These last few days have been the sort of summer days that, although beautiful, remind you that fall is definately on its way. Perfectly sunny, warm during the day, cool at night, and no humidity (well, not NONE... 45% or so). Its like 9/11 was. 'an almost too perfect day' as Ani Difranco has said. Wonder if I'll ever be able to enjoy a late summer day without comparing it to that day.
When I woke up this morning, it was 54 degrees outside (you folks who aren't here in America will have to do your own calculations...). I put on fleece socks, jeans, a long sleeve shirt and a light weight but very fuzzy wool sweater. I was cold. It was beautiful.
There are flocks of Canada geese around too. I think its a little early for them to be migrating, but what do I know. I haven't seen many this summer and suddenly there a little packets of them in the fields where there were none last week.
The local orchard/farmstand opens today. I can't believe its that late in the year. They'll stay open until just after the Holidays, I think... although they might close after Thanksgiving. Soon I'll have to be dodging droves of weekend apple-pickers with their toddlers as the slowly cross the street...in a 45MPH zone. And I'll complain heavily, I'm sure.
Soon enough, though. Soon enough. 54 will feel WARM. I'll leave the heat turned all the way up to 60 and will tell K to get a sweater. The dogs & the cats will curl up together on the dog beds, huddling for warmth (and they'll suck me in). We'll be watching the thermometer drop, hear reports of black ice (which never apply to us since we live more or less in the middle of nowhere). There will be days where I'll refuse to leave the house, except maybe to shovel. Which reminds me- I need to get the snowblower repaired. Now.
This is why I love New England. No matter how BAD or how GOOD out it is, you know its going to change. It always changes. Something is always coming or going. It leads to a short attention span when it comes to weather. And scenery.
Foliage is coming. Frost in the morning. Big meaty stews, and buttenut squash ravioli's. Crunching leaves under foot and that fall smell. And lets not forget turkey (ahhhh thanksgiving, the one holiday I kind of like, as long as I don't think too hard about what it actually means- how horribly we treated the natives).
Life is short, and there is nothing like the cycle of the seasons in New England to remind us of that. It's coming.
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Saturday, August 05, 2006
The Pan Mass Challange (PMC)
So today was the Pan Mass Challange - aka the PMC. The PMC is a 1 or 2 day long bike ride from central Massachusetts to the cape, or to eastern Mass. Of course, its a fundraiser- in this case, a major fundraiser for the Jimmy Fund, which does a lot of work with cancer in children, and for the Dana Farber Cancer Institute which treats cancer patients of all ages, as well as performs cutting edge research on new cancer treatments.
We chose a one-day, 72-mile (in theory) route from Sturbridge to Wellesley. We got up at 3:30 in the morning, and drove to Sturbridge for the 6am start. We were done riding by about 1 pm. So it took us about 7 hours ride to 80 miles (this was the first year for this particular route, and it was very poorly marked once the different routes split up).
Today was one of the best days of my life.
Basically, I rode 80 miles, most of the time slapping the hands of little kids who were holding them out, waiting for just that gesture. There were a lot of people cheering, and saying 'thank you'. Entire families out cheering on their lawns at 6 o'clock in the morning on a Saturday. All 4000 riders, and 2000 volunteers, and all those countless supporters - all united for the hope for the future. The hope that a cure for cancer can be found. I helped raise $25 Million today. And it felt SO good to be a part of that, to feel empowered, and not feel so alone. Everyone there was there for a reason - either they are a survivor, or they know a survivor, or they have losted a loved one. We were all in it together, we all have that common thread, but we all had our own individual stories and reasons. And they are all painful to hear & think about (but, becuase of the hope we've helped raise, the atmosphere almost all day long was one of celebration).
I remembered over & over the day I signed K & I up for the ride- the day of the funeral for a friend of the family. I couldn't make it home for the funeral (we were on the road for K's job, and with such short notice, it wasn't possible), so I signed up for the PMC instead. I just remember how helpless and miserable I felt on that day, and today went a LONG way towards soothing that. It can't be fixed, but it can be turned around a little bit so that SOME good can come out of it.
There's a good chance that either my sister or I will be diagnosed with cancer at one point in our lives; our mother had cancer, and many relatives have had cancer. The PMC is one way to help our own personal fight on two levels: I can help raise funds for research that may one day directly benefit me & I can train for this event year after year, giving me a focus and a reason to maintain my physical fitness, which will likely reduce my risk for developing certain types of cancers, or at least, keep me stronger when it becomes my turn to fight it.
Of course, we, like many other people, have a long list of friends and loved ones that we have seen fight cancer; many have lost the fight, but many are also winning the fight. The ONLY way, really, I can help any of us is to help raise funds for research- so that we might all reap the benefits.
The ride is done for this year. But there is always next year, and next year will be bigger. and better.
We chose a one-day, 72-mile (in theory) route from Sturbridge to Wellesley. We got up at 3:30 in the morning, and drove to Sturbridge for the 6am start. We were done riding by about 1 pm. So it took us about 7 hours ride to 80 miles (this was the first year for this particular route, and it was very poorly marked once the different routes split up).
Today was one of the best days of my life.
Basically, I rode 80 miles, most of the time slapping the hands of little kids who were holding them out, waiting for just that gesture. There were a lot of people cheering, and saying 'thank you'. Entire families out cheering on their lawns at 6 o'clock in the morning on a Saturday. All 4000 riders, and 2000 volunteers, and all those countless supporters - all united for the hope for the future. The hope that a cure for cancer can be found. I helped raise $25 Million today. And it felt SO good to be a part of that, to feel empowered, and not feel so alone. Everyone there was there for a reason - either they are a survivor, or they know a survivor, or they have losted a loved one. We were all in it together, we all have that common thread, but we all had our own individual stories and reasons. And they are all painful to hear & think about (but, becuase of the hope we've helped raise, the atmosphere almost all day long was one of celebration).
I remembered over & over the day I signed K & I up for the ride- the day of the funeral for a friend of the family. I couldn't make it home for the funeral (we were on the road for K's job, and with such short notice, it wasn't possible), so I signed up for the PMC instead. I just remember how helpless and miserable I felt on that day, and today went a LONG way towards soothing that. It can't be fixed, but it can be turned around a little bit so that SOME good can come out of it.
There's a good chance that either my sister or I will be diagnosed with cancer at one point in our lives; our mother had cancer, and many relatives have had cancer. The PMC is one way to help our own personal fight on two levels: I can help raise funds for research that may one day directly benefit me & I can train for this event year after year, giving me a focus and a reason to maintain my physical fitness, which will likely reduce my risk for developing certain types of cancers, or at least, keep me stronger when it becomes my turn to fight it.
Of course, we, like many other people, have a long list of friends and loved ones that we have seen fight cancer; many have lost the fight, but many are also winning the fight. The ONLY way, really, I can help any of us is to help raise funds for research- so that we might all reap the benefits.
The ride is done for this year. But there is always next year, and next year will be bigger. and better.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Birthdays, in general, suck
This is my issue with birthdays: they never really work out. There is always SOMETHING negative that I can remember from every year- and then on my Bday, I add to the list, and remember them all at the same time. Its the one day a year where you can usually remember where you are, and it backfires in the worst way.
This year was pretty good, until the husband says he hoped to make up for all the crappy ones we've endured since we got married (and into the military). Then I remembered how bad it'd been in the past, and all the different places I'd been on my bday because of his job, and I just kind of realized how ridiculous and meaningless the last several years have been, and started wondering, what, exactly, am I going to do with myself now that I've started down this road and flushed my career down the toilet - and done so of my own free will. One thing just leads to another and it spirals out of control. And he meant well, and I know what he meant, and I appreciated the sentiment and it was WAY better than the ones in the past, except that I can't run away from my own memories, even just for a day.
And then my sister completely ignored the whole thing. I wasn't looking for a gift (I don't really understand why, except I don't like gifts from my own family- we have very different tasts and desisres, yet I always have to act happy and thankful, lest I be labelled 'ungrateful' - obviously I haven't TOLD them I have a BLOG. I don't tell them much, actually, out of self-preservation). But a phone call would have been nice. An email, even. I'm not even asking for a card :) My own sister. Who ever has these warm fuzzy feelings about sisters has apparently not spent any time with my sister & I.
I guess it boils down to this: Birthdays are just another one of those calander days that make you reflect on what you've accomplished in life, particularily in the past year, and I HATE days like that. I have nothing to show to myself, for myself. I feel very much like I am living in that Be Good Tanya's song "waiting around to die". It sounds a little harsher than intended, but basically its true. Another year has gone by, another tick on the wall, and I'm still waiting for....what? Life to start? life to hurry up and end? I imagine myself living to old age, and still trying to figure what is going on, what I want to do, and still having no answers at the age of 90.
Birthdays are just really emotionally packed days, where incindental things by other people get magnified & take on extra meaning (like my sister) and then you remember those things way longer than is healthy. Or I do :)
I'm tempted to stop celebrating all together, except I know deep down I'll still be thinking 'this used to me my birthday' and then nothing is really accomplished at all. I've tried that with Christmas, to no avail. The holidays suck too.
This year was pretty good, until the husband says he hoped to make up for all the crappy ones we've endured since we got married (and into the military). Then I remembered how bad it'd been in the past, and all the different places I'd been on my bday because of his job, and I just kind of realized how ridiculous and meaningless the last several years have been, and started wondering, what, exactly, am I going to do with myself now that I've started down this road and flushed my career down the toilet - and done so of my own free will. One thing just leads to another and it spirals out of control. And he meant well, and I know what he meant, and I appreciated the sentiment and it was WAY better than the ones in the past, except that I can't run away from my own memories, even just for a day.
And then my sister completely ignored the whole thing. I wasn't looking for a gift (I don't really understand why, except I don't like gifts from my own family- we have very different tasts and desisres, yet I always have to act happy and thankful, lest I be labelled 'ungrateful' - obviously I haven't TOLD them I have a BLOG. I don't tell them much, actually, out of self-preservation). But a phone call would have been nice. An email, even. I'm not even asking for a card :) My own sister. Who ever has these warm fuzzy feelings about sisters has apparently not spent any time with my sister & I.
I guess it boils down to this: Birthdays are just another one of those calander days that make you reflect on what you've accomplished in life, particularily in the past year, and I HATE days like that. I have nothing to show to myself, for myself. I feel very much like I am living in that Be Good Tanya's song "waiting around to die". It sounds a little harsher than intended, but basically its true. Another year has gone by, another tick on the wall, and I'm still waiting for....what? Life to start? life to hurry up and end? I imagine myself living to old age, and still trying to figure what is going on, what I want to do, and still having no answers at the age of 90.
Birthdays are just really emotionally packed days, where incindental things by other people get magnified & take on extra meaning (like my sister) and then you remember those things way longer than is healthy. Or I do :)
I'm tempted to stop celebrating all together, except I know deep down I'll still be thinking 'this used to me my birthday' and then nothing is really accomplished at all. I've tried that with Christmas, to no avail. The holidays suck too.
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