The original batteries in my Korg tuner just now expired. (It is well over 5 years old) Wish I could say it’s because I never need it to tune up on the bassoon. Or tune down, if it’s the mid to upper register, for that matter.
My commentary and connections to the wide variety of things of interest in the world. Likely recurring themes are meditation and spirituality, travel, politics, and education. And a host of others.
Ask me anything
January 21, 2012
October 21, 2011
September 20, 2011
A Shambhala Sort of Wordle
Messing about with bytes again. Thinking about a project my World Religions class will be doing. Found this distraction.
September 12, 2011
September 4, 2011
Still Riding
For the last few weeks, nearly a month now since the Pan Mass Challenge, people have been asking me if I am still riding. The answer to this is yes — although I can no longer justify eating Nutella particularly and my weekends have been spent thinking about being a teacher more than usual. I have discovered a great new sport, I think. Plus my experience on longer rides from a fitness standpoint is greatly altered. I am much faster, which I really wasn’t going for particularly, although to maintain a good aerobic benefit-type heart rate, I need to be. I also cannot believe I am even writing about this in any detail.
I am also still actively looking for people to consider making a donation to the PMC so that I can meet my goal when they officially close out the books on October 1.
It is really hard to ask, to be truthful, but the PMC is not about my heart rate or fitness or more peanut butter sandwiches than I ever thought I would ever see much less consume in two days. It is about funds needed to fight cancer.
Yesterday, I sat in an imaging center for a routine screening process with a variety of other women. (Trying to avoid TMI here; I bet you can figure this out.) For me, as a woman of a certain age, it was a routine appointment, but who knows why others are there. One woman across from me, also ignoring the “Self” magazines and “Us” and whatever it is people think women read in waiting rooms (I brought the NY Times) smiled at me and shrugged saying, “You just say a little prayer.” Really, I thought. For yourself, but, I thought immediately of several women in particular this time who should also be included.
So many people — you maybe— have been more than generous in supporting this important cause and in your moral support of me as a rider. Currently, however, to be very straightforward about it, I am just about $300 short of my goal. Folks have donated a wide variety of amounts in cash, checks, and payments through the handy link provided. And some of you have asked for the link again. Here it is! ANY amount goes towards this important cause and is so appreciated by me personally as well as people we don’t know. Thank you so much.
http://www.pmc.org/profile/JB0520
August 31, 2011
July 13, 2011
On the Fourth of July this year, we were in France, and as part of my birthday gift, Ruthie treated me to a D-Day tour. We both wanted to do this, and we did think it was kind of cool that it was July 4th, even though we are not traditionally patriotic.
All day, we had been riding around in a mini van with some fellow Americans and some New Zealanders, being given a truly excellent and highly informative tour of Omaha Beach, Utah Beach, some key bridges and other sites by our British guide. No one mentioned that it was July 4th, actually. We looked at gun placements, barbed wire, bomb craters, 11th century churches and the American Cemetery. The weather was beautiful, and I looked out at Omaha Beach and tried to imagine what had happened on June 6, 1944. We all did, I think.
I pay more attention professionally and personally to international history and politics than I do domestic, but I have been thinking about World War II and the military differently since that day. “The beaches at Normandy” are no longer from a far away time or place for me any more. “We” (I have never thought of myself as a “we” in the context of being an American before) were fighting a real enemy, Hitler, who was dead a year later. There is no gray area there for me.The Nazis had to be stopped. It couldn’t be about diplomacy.So, American troops came in and became part of the Allied Forces who manifested that. Guys came in to northern France on that terrible Tuesday and died on those beaches and the fields and marshes nearby. But more survived and went on to reclaim France and the rest is well, history.
In Saint-Mere Eglise, we encountered this group of self-identified Wounded Warriors: young vets who were riding 40Ks plus a day around European battle sites. They were fit, female and male, various races, and some of them were missing their original limbs, arms, legs, feet, hands or some combination of these. And they were riding beautiful bicycles and having one hell of a good time it looked like.These shots were taken when the mayor of the town came out with a case of beer and offered them some.
I was impressed and surprisingly touched by this whole thing. It is not a small feat to ride 40ks on a bike day after day in the sun, never mind if you have all of your limbs or a mind that has not experienced trauma. I couldn’t even imagine what their experience was like, really, and I dithered about taking any pictures. I tried to be discreet.
I don’t know what I think about the conflicts that injured these soldiers. WWII seems not the least bit theoretical to me. I don’t know that it is that clear for me with regard to Iraq, Afghanistan, the mess of Vietnam, the war I watched on TV as a kid. I know the military is a viable profession for some people (personally I could never do it) and I totally and truly respect that. A kid I had in fifth and 10th grade came back to school in his Marine uniform last year and I was really proud of him.There was no other word for my reaction.
But, I do imagine that these soldiers believe in what they were fighting for — I hope that they did, because they have sacrificed things the rest of us can only guess at. I think it is foolish not to have a military at this point in time. Unless everyone simultaneously agrees to stop fighting…right…NOW!
June 24, 2011
June 1, 2011
Some Who Wander, Get Lost
..or hoisted by my own petard. This past Memorial Day weekend, R and I were talking about bike rides we took as kids. Both of us had the experience where you just got on your bike one Saturday morning - maybe with friends, maybe not — and started riding. No helmet, no water, maybe no money, no backpack. And maybe you were between 9 and 11 years old. After 11, you started hanging around in the mall.
Ruthie had a story about how she got lost and had to call her parents likely tearfully from a gas station somewhere in the Rochester area. Once, I rode all the way to Bethpage NY from Massapequa, NY and back as a kid. Alone. I was really maybe 10 or something. And I did not get lost. (I thought to myself, a tad smugly. Oh my ego.) Once, I was allowed to take my mother’s sunfish sailboat out with a friend onto Great South Bay. We got caught in a current and couldn’t sail our way out of one of the big canals somewhere around Copaigue. We got a tow down the river, and I made a phone call from a gas station, I think. But that wasn’t MY fault, of course.It was the lack of wind and a strong current.
Well, yesterday (cue Gilligan’s Island theme music), I set out from Sharon High after getting the bike to school in the back of my Honda Fit and changing into the Bike Suit after the kids left. I intended to do a little 7 mile loop around the lake. But nooooo.
I rode past the lake and practiced shifting the gears a bunch of times to get used to the front derailleur. The chain came loose and I dismounted in order to put it back on. No problem! I was In Control! (ego watch ego watch warning warning) I rode to the end of Massapoag Avenue since I was feeling so good— a little beyond my turn around goal. And then I took a right. Into Easton? Mansfield? At some point, I realized that this route wasn’t turning back towards Sharon and I was on a road going west. Towards California. I thought I should stop and try and figure out what to do. But, I had no money and I did not want to ask for directions. I did have a GPS in my phone though, which, dramatically enough, was running out of power. So, I checked it and double checked it and clipped it the front of my bike. I was only about 9 miles away. I had 3 centimeters of orange Gatorade in the bottom of my bottle and some water left. It was past my suppertime. I could feel glycogen leaving my leg muscles. No kidding, I think.
I pedaled back, finally, getting passed by one speedy woman (“On your left!” I nearly fell sideways in shock — I had no idea she was there.) and seeing another with those fancy handlebars you can lean on whiz by going the opposite direction. This did prompt me to increase my speed for a strong finish. (ego ego — I am seeing a pattern) I drove home uneventfully, thinking about how to make sure I am adequately fueled.
I am officially fatigued today. I was planning to do a rest day today for sure, but unsure what to do tomorrow. Maybe yoga and weights and just make SURE I am not overtrained. Then back at it.
Learning all the time.
May 30, 2011
First of all, thank you to all my recent new sponsors! It is not possible for me to meet this Challenge without you. Really. All in, this has been a great breakthrough weekend cycling wise. I have actually figured out how to clip in and out of the pedals with these very cool shoes (they’re not called “Specialized” for nothin’) Basically you stomp on the pedals (a little like getting into cross country ski bindings) to get in and twist your foot (NOT ankle) to get out. Paul at Anderson Cycling set me up. Again. Gave me helpful advice. Again. Made adjustments right then and there. Again. Another one of the many in the village who are making this possible.
The shoes/pedals really just let you forget about your feet and mindmeld your legs and effort to the pedals and crank. My tempo has picked up considerably.
Two Long Rides this weekend, one on Saturday, one on Sunday; 30 miles and then 20 miles. I also field tested some Gatorade for the first time ever. Oh, I get it. I should have tried that when I was hiking in the White Mountains last summer. And two summers before that. And the year before. I thought it was just for, well, never mind. I bought a case of orange flavored at Lowes (??Lowes?? Yep.)
I will be taking the bicycle to work tomorrow to cycle around the Naturally Beautiful Sharon, MA after school. New pedals, spandex suit, sunglasses. A disguise.
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