Happy Birthday to My Sis

Today my little sister turned 27 years old. Though I have a number of friends who are a few years younger than her it always strikes me as funny since she's always sort of been a little girl to me (don't worry, Kell - I regard you much more highly than that, but I think you know what I mean). Though I didn't get to see her today, I know she rung in her 28th year with lots of sweet tots by her side.

Hope to see you soon after we get back to Pittsburgh, Boot!

Going 'Round the Bend?

To use a phrase favored by my mother, I swunny. Today I finally started feeling like the walls were closing in on me. Though I was able to make it out the door to work this morning without having to call in the S.W.A.T. team to locate my car keys or forgetting to bring something critical like the cash drawer with me to the market, things are beginning to pile up and go awry. I honestly don't know how my sister does it. It's not like my job is all that taxing, but it does involve some take-home business for me wherein I utilize my never-impressive mathematics skills to balance the earnings of not one but two booths (I know, I know. Woe is me for having to count cash and bottles of olive oil when some folks' work consists of circumventing the intricate network of arteries to perform life-saving surgery). I left work early to be home in time for Rob to get to his overnight educator job at the zoo. While walking to the car Olive's full bottle (that we'd just found under the couch not thirty minutes prior) fell out of the diaper bag and landed with a heartbreaking shatter on the cement. We'd done remarkably well with our two Dr. Brown's glass bottles over the last year, so it was really the loss of milk that pained me most. Olive and I dropped him off then headed back down to the market because I'd not brought in the correct key for the zippered envelope for making bank deposits so I needed to go back to take care of that, only I couldn't find those keys while I was home (where were they?, you ask. Oh, just right on the shelf where they always are, just hiding behind a box of batteries).

I think my biggest problem is that our apartment is trashed and I can't live here with a clear head so I'm constantly going around in an addled fog. This must be how a drug addict must feel, I think sometimes. I can easily see why people hire housekeepers - because they simply cannot maintain their spaces themselves. I fear that I am one of those people, and it's really starting to drive me batty. I work all the time, Rob works quite a bit, too, and I have a hard time tearing myself away from those sweet moments together with my family to give the place the thorough reorganizing it needs. It may be time to hire a professional.

Oh, What a Glorious Day!

After being thwarted numerous times by unfavorable weather, sick children, or scheduling conflicts, our plans to visit the zoo with the Ryans finally came to pass. As Iris had never been there outside of the womb - their last trip was made just three days before she was born last May - I'd say it was high time. While Olive and I waited for them to arrive we took in the gorillas to see what sort of hijinks our old pals were up to. We browsed the grounds more once Kellie and her brood arrived and I was once again amused by how worked up Jack becomes over the small things; while standing by the fence surrounding the giraffe and elephant enclosure, it was the school of fiery orange koi that had his rapt attention. "Momma, I've never seen a fish before!" Because wildlife of the African savanna is commonplace in his world but fish...well, fish are the epitome of exotic.

Because we got to the zoo right about the time Olive would normally have been bedding down for second nap, she was contemplative, quiet, and a little bit irritable, so we departed as the Ryans were setting up for lunch near the sea lions. She dozed sweetly in the stroller (it was a little warm for the Ergo) on the 30-minute walk home and transitioned easily to her crib once we arrived back home. After a day spent in the sunshine that's been pretty rare this month, I would've gladly done the same.

Sweetiedoll Iris
Jack and Gail. Little did they know they'd get to see fish at the zoo!
The new African painted dog puppies. Ridiculously cute little mongrels.

Another cute mongrel

Running Thoughts

After another day of somber, miserable, raw April weather, the evening miraculously brought clear, sunny skies and more springlike temperatures. And so I ran. My back's been feeling better, though I've yet to take much precautionary action (namely yoga, which lots of friends with back troubles have prescribed). In the last week I've run only one other time - the first ever Cramer family run - and I took it very easy with only a mile. Tonight I did five around the neighborhood and park and thoroughly enjoyed the stream of thought that accompanied my outing.

Something about running around the northern edge of Highland Park overlooking the Allegheny River reminds me of my runs in Nashville during the summer and autumn of 2006 when I was training for my first marathon with the Cumberland River serving as the aquatic backdrop through the Shelby Bottoms Greenway where I'd usually run. Boy, did I love living there, though I could've trained more diligently. The problem, like here, is that I was spending too much time living life and not enough time hitting the pavement. My training regimen for my second marathon in 2008 was far more successful, but the difference was that I was living in Maine, had a grand total of two friends in the state, neither of whom monopolized too much of my time. I also (to my knowledge) had zero children. Running nine miles nearly every day was not a problem for me. I'm not really sorry that I haven't made training my top priority these past few months. My days are busy enough, and by the time I'm free to run I don't really want to be out for longer than an hour, and not because my muscles, joints, and energy level protest, but my desire to spend time with Rob. I don't know how some couples do it, barely able to snatch a few moments over coffee in the mornings, and that isn't for me. I was spoiled for the first year of our marriage getting to spend all of my time away from work with him, so it's been more difficult with him working normal hours now (though good for him, career-wise, and I'm happy for and proud of him for doing what he loves to do).

Another thing I was considering on my run this evening was the incorporation of music with the running. I've rarely used a portable music-listening device while running, and really only employed one in 2008 and 2009 (playing a very limited mix of R.E.M., Deer Tick, and Blitzen Trapper tunes that will forever remind me of my regular 9-mile course through the back roads of Pembroke, Maine along Cobscook Bay during the winter of '09). Though I love music and it's always played a major role in my life, I have less of a taste for it while I'm running. Strange, especially given the fact that most people I know or see who are running or working out in some capacity have the ubiquitous earbuds and tendrils of wires connecting to their iPods that are no doubt pumping out high energy aerobic jams to motivate them to keep moving. Me, though, I liked to run to whatever music I normally listened to, regardless of tempo. To combat the boredom of treadmill running - what little bit of it I did this winter - I found a cheap little mp3 player that I still haven't used on my runs. I don't know if it's because I have such difficulty getting those pesky little nodules to stay in my ears or what (I don't think I have ear hole openings shaped much differently than most people, so why is it that I see countless people bounding along like gazelles with ear buds firmly in place while I can't make it from the couch to the kitchen without having to cram them further down my ear canal? Giving up, I've found that I really savor the time I have to simply think and take in my surroundings - a sort of moving meditation. Music can be distracting, and as chaotic as my days can be, a little time spent taking in smaller details is really appreciated.

I am constantly reminded that (and I can say this with confidence after having lived here for almost eight months) Highland Park is the best neighborhood in Pittsburgh, in my opinion.

Fruit trees have amazing shapes. They're bent, craggy, twisted, perfect in their imperfection, and they bear fruit. And who doesn't love that?

When I run up around the reservoir and reach the top of the flight of stone steps, I'm humbled by the stillness of the water, reminded of how water, when still, is perfectly level. Being in Pittsburgh with all of its many hills makes me that much more aware of a patch of perfectly flat, and it's wonderfully settling.

The sunset this evening - that there was a sun to see at all, with the way the day started! - was inspiring, and I wish that you could see it. The sun, passing down through the not-yet-leafy trees, was topped by a flourish of some of the wispiest, most expressive clouds I've seen in a long time. It was as if the contents of the sky had been tossed into a blender and had been set into frenzied motion, the funnel of it suspended in time. I just think I might have missed appreciating these things if my mind was focused on the lyrics of an R.E.M. tune playing in my ears.

Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Second Child

Because I'm in desperate need of things to fill my days to maximum capacity (HA!), I took on another child to watch in my pre-Khorey time (9-4). Luca is a 2 year-old, the daughter of Josiah, the Khorey's landscaper (he solicited my services last week while I was by dropping off some laundry and it seemed like a good idea at the time). Usually I'll be watching her on the rainy days when her dad will be less likely to be working in the field, which was why today was a bit of a surprise (rainy and yuck). He brought her by and she, Olive, and I were housebound save for five minutes when I took Luca out into the rain to knock on the door of the vacant house next to ours, imagining who might live inside - this was to give Olive some quiet time to fall asleep, but it was all in vain. She's been spoiled living with Rob and me, being allowed near silence during her nap times, so the incessant and irrepressible babbling of a tot was making falling asleep for her impossible. Not a comforting thought. It was interesting, though, the way having Luca over today was making me think. Not that I feel like I could or should be loving my own child more, but having someone else's in my home all day elicited an even stronger affection and attachment to my sweet Goon. Maybe it was the fact that Luca, newly in the throes of the Terrible Twos, according to her dad, made Olive seem all the more dear in comparison. When having to tend to Luca's needs I was feeling some pangs of guilt when Olive would look at my quizzically, possibly wondering about this new child with whom she was sharing me (and who was napping in her bedroom behind the closed door). I couldn't blame Luca, really, but she was bossy, not a good listener, defiant, selfish with Olive's toys, and a little short-tempered with her, to boot. At one point she was kicking her feet in close proximity to Olive and I could see that she would easily kick her if she wasn't careful. I warned her, Olive was kicked, Olive cried, then I explained to Luca that that was why I'd asked her not to kick, though I knew she didn't mean to. I asked her again to reinforce my no kicking rule, and she kicked again just to test my limits. I sat her in time out in the darker corner of the hallway, then went to get her and asked if she knew why she was there. "For kicking," she quietly replied. "Good. I'm glad you understand, " I said. "Are you going to kick again?" "Yes." Hmm. I have some work to do.

All in all, though, it was an okay day. I'm still picking up bits of apple that she spit out or offered to Ché, but it's not so bad. I've just been used to having Olive, and though I've heard that two is not much different than one, I'm begging to differ. I am seeing this as an opportunity to learn about a child this age and to gain more patience for when Olive begins to test me. So far she's given me us a pretty easy ride and we love her for it.

Note: I need to locate my camera battery charger; in the meantime readers will have to be content with being just that: readers.

Picnickers

To cap off a glorious, warm spring day (dig the 79 degrees!), Rob, Olive, and I joined our new friends, Katrina and Shauna, for a picnic down the street. There's an open space on the grounds of the King Estate, a privately-owned historic manor seven blocks from our home, that has sort of been turned into a dog park. Tall trees encircle a grassy bowl of lawn - perfect for spreading out a blanket and enjoying a light dinner on a sunny Sunday evening...

The Goon happily explored her surroundings, becoming more adept at navigating the unpredictable grassy terrain, though not the puddles. At one point, she ventured off the sidewalk and aimed to walk through a puddle whose depth was deceiving; down she went and waddled about in muddy shoes and britches for a while afterward, till Rob stripped her of her overalls and we were left with my favorite: a pantsless Goon (my camera battery died before I could capture footage of those darling bare legs). She was fearless as she independently wandered down the hill to the base of the bowl. Rob went to snatch her before she rounded a corner, never to be seen again, and brought her back to join the party. We dined on local turkey-spinach-and-cheese sandwiches, apples, celery and peanut butter, Shauna's maple walnuts (wow), and oranges, and Katrina and I learned how to play Hearts on the lovely floral playing cards Shauna brought. It should be noted that Katrina and Shauna are fellow market employees who work across from me at the Clarion River Organics stand, and happen to live three or four blocks away. Both are delightful, interesting and fun gals (and Shauna's husband, Cornelius, is a dear, too, but is usually working at a men's shelter in the evenings when we're all getting together), and we've been taking advantage of our proximity to each other by playing games, cooking dinners, biking to and from work, and visiting art galleries as often as we can. Katrina's going to babysit Olive in a few weeks when Rob and I go to a concert, and I'm glad we've got someone who she knows and likes (and whose name she can pronounce: Kat!). It's great to know people who enrich your lives the way they do, and I'm feeling pretty fortunate to have fallen in with them.

Bad Back

I'm starting to get a little apprehensive about this race I'll be running next month, and not because my training regimen has been less than impressive, but because of my back. A month or two ago I started experiencing a little pain in my lower back following longer runs but I - perhaps unwisely - ignored it since it only happened on a few occasions. Today, however, while at the park with Olive and a few friends, I bent over to pick her up after one of many falls onto the grass, and felt a stabbing pain that hasn't much subsided in the last ten hours. As it turned out, I'd not disposed of the bottles of Percocet and ibuprofen that were prescribed to me after I'd had Olive, so popped a few of the latter (I'll resort to the former come race time if need be), which made the discomfort more tolerable if not completely unnoticeable. I'm just not really sure of what to do at this point. I imagine I'll go to sleep, wake up and feel nothing at all as I've done when my back has acted up in the past, but now I know that this will undoubtedly happen again and I don't want to run the risk of the ol' back throwing me under the bus when I run the marathon (or have running that distance do even more damage; I'll just walk the whole thing if I have to). I feel like I'm too young for this to be happening to me. Do I see a chiropractor now? I'm thinking it might not be a bad idea at this point. It's either that or battle a pain killer addiction, and that's really not my scene.