Charleston Distance Run Neophyte

This is at the 8 mile mark, on Virginia Street
Still smiling, but starting to tire.

And now, some photos to give voice to my obsession of the last 11 months.  I ran the 40th annual Charleston Distance Run, known locally as "America's 15 Miler" in 2:42:27 (official-started center pack and the individual timing chip doesn't "start" until I cross the timing mat at the beginning of the race).  I averaged a 10.5 minute per mile pace-just incredible for me.  I had never run more than ten miles up until race day but had trained on grass and gravel, on hills for months.

Up until the day of the race, I wasn't sure I could complete it, I knew I would have to power walk some of the steepest inclines in the South Hills portion of the course.  It was hot and humid, it even sprinkled rain a few times.  But this race has incredible energy.  I met some great folks along the way, special shout out to Amy Kline from around Ironton, OH who got me through miles 10-13 with wit, insight and friendship-hope we meet up again.

Now, the Marshall half marathon in November isn't quite as frightening.  But I'm still training.

Like crazy.  I did 8.5 miles on Sunday and 5 miles on Tuesday, 5 more are scheduled for tomorrow morning at 6 A.M.  Plus cross-fit classes Monday through Thursday.  It isn't fun but it is compelling to see what you are made of.

First ever CDR, so a personal best!  Crossing that finish line felt great!

Dear Sarah,

I know you and I have never met, and likely never will.  Geographically, we're well over 3,000 miles apart, you up in Alaska, me in the lower 48 here in West Virginia.  I was a big Hillary supporter, still am, although disappointed in the compromises that were made.  I'm old enough to understand the need and value in compromise but still idealistic enough to not want my heroines to make them.  I want them to be a little bit better than me in their ability to stick to their convictions, go after what they want and take no prisoners along the way.  I admire strong women.  I volunteered to do the phones for her Charleston campaign headquarters and proudly put up signs in my yard in a very conservative neighborhood.  Hillary was finally going to break the glass ceiling in 2008 and I was going to be there, a part of it, no matter how small.  I was not going to miss my chance to participate in history.  Having been a women's studies major in the 80s, (which immediately was proof, along with my military service, that I was a lesbian) was going to make Hillary's victory that much sweeter.  Screw everyone who ridiculed my "feminism is not a dirty word" T-shirt.  To hell with those who told me I was too "crunchy granola" when I breastfed my kids and used cloth diapers (although I confess it was to save money, not the planet, we were broke and trying to get through college-with 3 kids).  Those who said you couldn't be smart and a good mother and have a career could kiss my ass.  Hillary was going to fix it all, right the wrongs and be the woman who made the final step-who closed the gap and shattered the glass ceiling once and for all.

Then some upstart punk out of Illinois showed up and arsed up the whole shebang.  And Hillary's victory lap turned into a vicious bout of infighting where, once again, the Democrats ended up doing the wrong thing where women are concerned.  They backed Barack and threw out Florida's votes-handing him the primary.  The campaign of "Hope" made we want to vomit, all I could hear was "hope we don't elect a woman for president."  She had it all, the experience, the brains, the connections, the drive, and she had paid her dues.  Didn't matter, it wasn't enough.  WV went 70% for Hillary.  Yep, the redneck, hillbillies voted a chick in the top spot.  We get  a lot of things wrong here, but for a few glorious days, WV had done right by me and my beliefs.

And then, out of nowhere, comes a very pretty, very accomplished unknown woman from Alaska as the Senator from Arizona's running mate on the other side.  I was absolutely tickled to see a woman in the race.  I also had a deep respect for McCain and his service to our country both in the military and in the senate.  Up until then, I'd never even considered voting for a Republican, but with Hillary off the ballot my vote was up for grabs and the only one I saw who looked like he could earn it was John.  And John came with Sarah.  As I dug into who the media let me know, I was amazed.  Almost simultaneously, I was sickened by the way she was immediately thrown under the hooves of my so-called liberal feminist sisters. Whoa!  Girls, girls, before you write her off as an emptyheaded stereotype, while also ridiculing her clothes and shoes, remember how pissed you were when all the press could comment on was our girl's headband du jour and penchant for pantsuits.  We cried foul then, and rightly so, but Sarah's long hair and penchant for heels was now fodder for blogs and newscasts with blood on their fangs.  Criticism about your appearance became a national sport, your hairdo, how much your glasses cost, who was paying for your campaign wardrobe, how high your heels were, what color your suit was, designed by whom?   It pissed me off.  And it pissed me off twice as much when it was being served up by women. 

I'll tell you what I saw.  I saw competence.  I saw merit.  I saw achievement.  I saw tenacity.  I saw shows-up-and-does-the-work.  How?  Not from your political achievements up there in Alaska from small town mayor to freaking governor, upsetting the old boy status quo single handedly.  Nope, I saw it in a twenty plus year marriage, a woman who gave birth to five children (one while governor), an unapologetic christian committed to her faith, a distance runner who competes in and finishes marathons, a woman who put herself through college on scholarships, and a mother who watched her child join the military during wartime.  This proves to me you are a woman of great strength, honor, integrity, tenacity, courage, discipline with plenty of common sense.  

I decided to do a little comparison of you and I, and the results-well-I thought I would do better than I did.  It wasn't even close.  I know my first person, third person thing is all screwed up, but I think you'll understand.  And it makes more sense that way (to me).

1.  Marriage.  Sarah wins, zero divorces.  Me?  not zero.

2.  Childeren.  Sarah wins, FIVE live births (one while in governor's mansion).  Me?  THREE live births (one while in law school).  I had mine naturally, but I'll bet Sarah did too.  (I get to shout numbers of births, we earned a shout out).

3.  Education.  I win.  College, Law School.  Sarah?  College

4. Work.  Sarah wins, governor! mayor! fox news correspondent! television personality! vice presidential candidate!  Me?  government lawyer.

5. Athleticism.  Sarah wins.  She trains for and competes in marathons.  Me?  I've run a 10k race once in my life and have never, ever run 10 miles much less 26.2, although I am training for my first half marathon in November in Huntington (Whew! There, I said it, made a public announcement to make me meet my goal).

6.  Hobbies.  I bet I win.  I knit, sew, bookbind and rubberstamp.  Sarah?  I don't know, I don't even know if she likes to craft, but I bet her grade school aged childern had access to glitter, glue and crayons at her house, just like mine did.

7.  Faith.  Sarah wins.  She professes devout Christianity and I believe her.  Me?  I'm a very quiet Christian who chafes at most of the teachings I disagree with, plus the divorces are not exactly putting me in grace.

8.  Patriotism.  A draw.  I served in the Army during peacetime and Sarah watched her son enlist during war.  

So.... final score.  Sarah-5   Me -2    with 1 draw

So this woman my friends scorn, ridicule and continue to write off as meritless, as a caricature of the far right, easily dismissed as something of a bimbo?  It's not even close.  Sarah kicked my ass 5-2 and I'm not even weighting the categories!   I can't equate my passion for my hobbies to the value/weight of her faith or her strong marriage.  Of course, these are the same friends who will look at me and say, "I don't know how you do it!" as they shake their heads at my heavy single-mother-of-3 load.  I'll confess, I sometimes get a lift from that admiration.  Meanwhile, back to reality, I can't really even carry Sarah's gym bag to the locker room so she can get in a 10 or 15 mile training run in.  

When all of who Sarah is comes through to me, I find that I really don't care what her politics are, even if they are wildly opposed to mine (which they are, polar opposites) I already like her.  I like her if she's opposed to abortion (I'm strongly in favor of a woman's right to choose), in favor of war (I joined Patriot for Peace and publicly opposed the war in Iraq) and I like her if she takes other stances I don't agree with.  Lots of my friends do not hold my same political views, but they have a lot of other qualities I do like.  So do you.  I think that you and I would be friends if the circumstances (and the fact that we shall never meet) were different.  You stood by your convictions and you didn't compromise, even when it would have helped vote wise.  I guess what I'm saying, and taking a long time to get to, is, I think you got treated unfairly in the media, by the Democrats and most of all by other women who should have stood by a sister who was finally rising to the top, shattering the last glass ceiling in this country (you understand I'm talking about the White House and not the Augusta Clubhouse) cheering her on, political affiliation be damned.  I mean it.  In 2008 I voted for an exceptional woman and a soldier, hardened by war with a lifetime of wisdom.  I voted for a mother of 5, a marathoner, a scholarship student, a christian and a public office holder.  A prisoner of war, a Senator, a decorated veteran.  I'm tired of not speaking up when folks talk about that last election as this next approaches.  I'm tired of saying "I voted for Hillary" when asked, rather than admitting that I did not vote for Barack and Joe, I voted for John and Sarah.  I did.  I admit it.  I did not vote for a political party, I voted for who I thought would make the best president.  Sarah, I dislike and disagree with nearly all of your political positions but I know you are a high quality person that will do a hell of a job at whatever you decide to tackle.  I guess I just wanted you to know I voted gender over platform because most of the ways my life is different from men you already understand.  We need a woman in the white house.  When I lost my dream of Hillary, I turned to you.  I voted for you.  If you run, I'll probably vote for you again, unless Hillary is running.

Sincerely, 

A Reluctant Fan

Washington D.C.

Yesterday was the 101st observation of International Women's Day.  Two days earlier I had the untellable pleasure of meeting United Supreme Court Justice Sonia Sotomayor.  I was so touched by her graciousness and friendliness.  Words about the encounter still fail me so the pictures will have to speak my story to you.

Cashmere Bliss

I've been dabbling in recycling sweaters made of luxury yarns from sweater back to yarn for a few years now.  I've found alpaca, merino, silk, cashmere, even yak.  Cashmere is my favorite.  It comes from the cashmere (kashmir) goat that lives in some seriously mountainous, cold and rugged terrain.  It has outer guard hairs, but it is the soft downy undercoat that is the prize, it is what the luscious yarn is made of-super fine and extremely warm.  It is also very spendy - just the yarn for a sweater would be about $250.  I have frequently found and reclaimed cashmere sweaters in the past, and it is such a pleasure to knit with, but the yarn is very, very fine and can be difficult to unravel, I usually think the extra effort is worth it.

It is rare to find a 100% cashmere sweater made up in anything other than a laceweight or fine gauge yarn.  A dk or worsted weight is sort of the holy grail for cashmere loving sweater recycling yarn junkies such as myself.  After years of searching (and five dollars at the thrift store) I've finally found one, and it is mine, all mine!

This lavender cabled turtleneck is going to be transformed into about 1200 yards of scrumptiousness.  I wanted to get the photos taken first before I deconstruct it.  I don't know if I'll keep it lavender or if I'll dye it, but I know I want to make a wrap/shawl out of it-sort of an adult blankie to wrap around me when things get chilly, or hard, or I just need a hug.

This stuff is sooooo thick and sooooo soft.  It will be a treat to transform it into something I'll love forever (that would not be a too tight turtleneck sweater).

My best guess, before disassembling, is that it is worsted weight.  That's a nickel there, about an inch across, and it is measuring about 4.5 to 5 stitches per inch.

I don't drink the Kool-aid

I dye with it.  I learned that protein fibers (fibers that come from animals and silkworms) will take up food dyes easily and with the addition of a bit of acid, like vinegar or citric acid (the stuff in Kool-aid) the dye becomes colorfast.  It doesn't work on plant fibers such as cotton, linen, tencel, ramie and nettle nearly as well.  I've tried it on wool before and it's like magic-it works and doesn't wash out.  Depending on the color of yarn you start out with, you can end up with very different color even using the same dye recipe.

About a week ago I started working on disassembling a handknit sweater made with what I believe is handspun alpaca.  There were several colors used in the intarsia patterns but the main color is a sort of grayed lavender.  I skeined up the top front portion (maybe 50 0r 60 yards) and tied it loosely in 4 places with waste yarn so it wouldn't turn into a tangled mess while dyeing.  I then presoaked the skein in warm water.  You can dye it dry, but the effects seem to be very uneven and mottled, and I wanted something more consistent.

I used a packet of cherry Kool-aid to start-I got a saucepan, filled it 2/3 of the way with hot water, and emptied in one unsweetened packet of Kool-aid.  Over medium heat, I stirred the pot until all the powder was dissolved, I added the presoaked and squeezed-so-it-wasn't-wringing-wet alpaca skein and gently stirred it to distribute the color and immerse the yarn.  I turned the heat to simmer and let the dye soak into the yarn, gently stirring it occasionally, paying special attention to the areas that were loosely tied with the waste yarn-I wanted to make sure the color permeated those areas too, sort of the opposite of tie-dyeing where you don't want the dye to get into the parts you tie off.

I pulled the skein out with a wooden spoon when the water in the pot was nearly clear.  I thought the color was too candy colored and wanted a more nuanced tone, so I dug around in my cake decorating supplies and came up with Wilton's food dye.  I added a bit of red and a bit of burgundy to deepen the color.  Before adding the food colors, I mixed them with some hot water and added the mixture to the saucepan, while holding the dripping yarn out of the water.  I was afraid that if I added the color into the pot with the yarn in it I would end up with a few dark spots and that's it (can you tell I've done that before?  because I have).  After stirring in the new color, I also added a glug of white vinegar to set the color.  There may have been enough citiric acid in the Kool-aid to act as a mordant, but I didn't want to take the chance.  Next, I lowered the wet yarn into the new dyebath and gently stirred, letting it soak up the color.  Still not satisified, I added the burgundy in the same manner.

In the end, the alpaca absorbed all the dye, and I was happy with the end result-it always lightens as it drys.  This kind of dyeing is also very safe.  You can use your regular cooling utensils and pots.  This is not the case with other dyes-those should be used with only dedicated equipment, far away from food preparation areas.  Because we ingest food safe dyes, they are safe to use in your kitchen.

So... without further adieu, this part of the garment was used

From this sweater:

To transform into this beautiful rosey-coral yarn.

Here's a closer shot:

and even closer:

I was pleased with the results.  I'm not sure I can replicate the color, even though I wrote down my recipe, because I wasn't at all scientific about the amounts I used, just a third of a tiny spoon of each of the Wilton's food colors.  I love that little spoon, it's got a hand hammered steel curlicue handle.  I used to have 4 of them, but we are now down to just the one.  Where in the heck have the other three spoons gone?  Three non standard sized spoons?  I'd like to think I've at least cleaned the entire house once between the time of their disappearance several years ago and now, but none of the others have ever showed up.  One of those mysteries of parenting that make you believe that The Littles aren't make believe!

Head Hunted

I've always read about people getting calls from head hunters, with lucrative offers of employment with six figure (and up) salaries.  But the only head hunters I've ever encountered are the cannibals I've read about in books.  Until two days ago, when an actual head hunter gave me a call-out of the blue-and asked me if I'd be interested in a senior environmental attorney position.  I don't know if I am or not, but I am definitely going to explore this!  It's exciting, and makes me feel flattered.

For over a year I looked for work with no leads, finally (and gratefully) landing the position I have today.  I love my job now, the flexibility is incredible, and my safety net insured.  But. While direct compensation was not discussed, I think it is safe to say that it will be significantly more than current levels.  But the job flexibility will go with it.  You know how everyone says they have a price?  If I even make it past round one (much less two or three...) I wonder what my price will be?

In knitting content, I'm working on the light blue fingerless mitts. I've used the white handspun Bolivian alpaca from the stupid cows in the sweater I'm raveling to embroider little leaf designs at the wrist.  I can't say enough good things about the Knitpicks dpns (US3) I'm using, smooth and pointy.  I'm knitting these tightly and am experiencing no problems at all.  The yarn is from a recycled Express sweater (wool, angora, nylon, viscose blend) and is very soft.


I'm also finishing up the matching mittens to my red and orange beret.  I'm using the same yarn I used for the beret (a Gap recycled wool sweater) but added two strands of red 2 ply cashmere from a recycled sweater for a bit more warmth and softness.  The cashmere ups the squish factor considerably.

Not content with the number of project I have in progress, I have officially started my first ever toe-up sock-I have to admit that not having to kitchner is a big draw-it will also be my first short row heel, so lots of firsts in this sock.  I'm using Opal self patterning yarn and loving the stripes of purple that are magically revealing themselves.  Photos when I have enough done to have something to show for it besides newly invented curse words.  I'm using "Judy's Magic Cast On" with the help of You Tube videos.


I think this final fridge photo says it all, I made the tiles by getting small magnets and adhering them to the back.  We've had a lot of fun with them, although it is clear that their charm has worn off for all members of the family except moi.  That's okay, I know I am easily amused.  Sticks, string, scrabble tiles and a cup cups of coffee can keep me occupied for hours.

Tribute

Mary with her older brothers, Gene and Henry "Chub"

Mary Connolly was a remarkable woman, she was born on May 23, 1941 to Henry Callan and Catherine Callan nee Zwack in Dubuque, Iowa.  She had 2 older brothers, Gene and Henry, a younger sister Molly and a baby brother, John.

Mary and her father Henry - first holy communion.

Mary with her mother, Catherine

Mary in high school.

Popular in school, she went on a double date one day with a friend of her older brother (she told me there was no way she was going to go out with an older man on her own-she was 17, he 20).  Fast forward to their marriage in August.  Baby number one came, and then two, both boys.  They were fast outgrowing the small place they rented.

Mary and Baby #1

Mary had her hands full wrangling two fiesty boys, while pregnant with her third-her husband worked at the packing plant - working all the extra hours he could get - and came home to rock babies.

Mary got her little girl and soon added another son.  As the child count hit four, so did sorrow, as the newest addition struggled with a heart defect that later claimed his young life.  Heart broken though she must have been, Mary had little time to give into grief, because during all the hospital visits and juggling four little ones, baby number five made her appearance.  The count was now 3 boys (one in angel status) and 2 girls.

A move was inevitable, there was literally no more room, so they weighed their options and that city girl followed her husband to the country to raise up the children and offer them a safe place to run and play and get dirty and grow.  St. Donatus, Iowa, population?  Less than 200.  She was 26 when the doctor told her her next pregnancy held a surprise-twins!

I'm on the left, Heidi on the right.

Growing up (that's me with the hammer) circa 1968.

My sister and I were born in October, 1966, after what certainly had to be a wretchedly hot summer. No air conditioning, only a fan and screen doors-constantly banging while kids ran in and out.  Think of it:  three babies in diapers (cloth diapers folks, hung on the line to dry) and the house they put a down payment on gutted, room by room, waiting for evenings and weekends when Dad could renovate.  Mom cheated death at age 29 when surgery removed uterine cancer-but the same life saving surgery also took away any more pregnancies.

Folks think country life is all daisies and lemonade, but that's only on television.  There were all kinds of obstacles-a party telephone line for one, and a long distance toll charge anytime she called her mother.  Living in the city, Mom had never learned to drive-she was stuck out in the country until Dad got home from work, or fishing, or hunting, or...

Dad ordered Mom's birthday cakes, she made ours.

Think of the housework!  She finally got an electric washing machine in 1966 when we twins made our appearance, before that it was the laundromat or a wringer washer.  Laundry for eight, three meals a day plus a hearty lunch packed for Dad, and six pairs of sticky hands, dirty faces, and constant refrains of "Mooooommmmmm!"  We kids were no saints either, we fought and played and got hurt, needed stitches, rough housed our pets, rode bikes on gravel roads, got in trouble at school, traded childhood illnesses and generally must have drove her nuts.  Money was always tight.  Mom didn't work outside the home until her children were nearly adults.

Mary and her wheels.

Every birthday Mom made us our favorite cake and let the birthday kid pick the dinner meal.  We always made a wish before blowing out the candles.

Holiday tables groaned with her cooking.  Mom learned to drive when my sister and I started kindergarten, she was 31.  With keys in hand, she started her next career as chauffeur, a vocation that was kicked into high gear as school extra-curricular activities piled up on top of the endless grocery trips.

Mary at the lake on a summer camping trip.

Speaking of school, we all knew how to read before kindergarten.  We played "school" with my oldest sister as the teacher if it wasn't nice enough to go outside.  We were allowed to play outside nearly year round "until the lights came on" (if by 'lights' you understand I mean the one street light on our side of town), so there were pick up games of catch and baseball, endless bike rides and lots of stomping in the nearby creek.

Mom and Dad took all of us camping, for weeks, every summer, in Wisconsin where it was cooler.  We could doggy paddle in the lake (so long as we didn't go deeper than our belly buttons) get dirty, roast marshmallows over a campfire, ride our bikes over endless trails and soak up the sun, wild as natives.  Without fanfare or complaint, Mom did all the work getting us ready to go and packing up for the trip back home.

Mom made every one of her children feel special, loved and wanted.  She crocheted afghans to keep us warm, sewed halloween costumes and easter dresses.  Mom taught me to sew, a hobby I still love.  She taught us all to cook, and by her example I learned how to run a household.  She always had a book in her hand, reading nearly every day.  Mom made sure we were all present and accounted for in church every Sunday morning-she could quell unacceptable behavior in church with just a glance of her "mean" look.  Our Christmas trees sparkled with tinsel and homemade ornaments, hundreds of holiday cookies were baked each year, with gifts piled up-and she gave Santa all the credit.

Mom eventually saw all those little ones grow up, move away, marry and start families of their own.  Engineer,  plant supervisor, computer programmer, nurse, manager, lawyer... we all grew up and gave her grandbaby after grandbaby.

Grandma Mary's first wave of grandbabies, 1989

Grandma Mary & Baby K

Now Grandma Mary, she took every phone call, never offered unsolicited advice, stocked her house with dolls for the girls and trucks for the boys.  She stitched doll clothes and colorful, coveted quilts.  She painted beautiful ceramics and gave each of her (now grown up) children a hand painted nativity scene.  She worked at the ceramic shop, took classes to become a certified nursing assistant, and began taking care of aging Catholic nuns at the facility in town.

Mom and Dad

Mom loved to travel, and went as often as she could, usually with her brother and his wife.  New York, Montreal, Mexico (where she smuggled out 2 small switchblades as souvenirs for her teenage boys) and more. She and Dad moved to northern Arkansas in the mid 90s, escaping the harsh Iowa winters.  Fishing and hunting for Dad, swimming, walking, quilting and time to read for Mom.  Her flower garden flourished, quilts were made in her studio, and her children came to visit year after year-for reunions, for love, for comfort & solace.

Family reunion, 1999.

Mom picked up smoking as a girl in high school, a way to lose weight she told me.  She quit smoking in 1986, kicking the addiction by sheer will power alone.  But, the cigarettes had taken their toll and in December of 2000, at age 59, she was diagnosed with aggressive lung cancer.  Mom held on until every one of her children, by now scattered all over the country, made it to her hospital bedside.  We all were able to hold her, hug her, tell her we loved her, and hear her tell us she loved us too.

 Mary Catherine Callan Connolly died on January 26, 2001.  She is survived by my Dad, her sister Molly, her brother John, six children, 14 grandchildren and 2 great grandchildren.  My Mother was the most beautiful, the kindest, sweetest, most perfect lady I ever knew.  I've never met her match.  She, no doubt, is with the angels, with her baby Todd, her Mom and Dad, and her brothers, Gene and Chub.  I still miss her so much every single day.  I still can't believe she's gone.  My mother is why I believe there is a God and a heaven.  I have to believe I can be with her again.

I love you Mom,

-Heather