Freezer 5K

Sometimes, I think there must be something wrong with me.  Upstairs, you know.

You see, I have certain trigger words that will make me do things that otherwise, when I’m thinking clearly, I would realize are DUMB.  Such as, for instance, the words “long-sleeved t-shirt.”  If you promise me a long-sleeved t-shirt, evidently, I will check my sanity at the door and decide that it sounds perfectly reasonable, even fun, to run a 5K ten days before Christmas.  All I can say for myself is, I was seduced by the words “flat” and “fast” that the race organizers used to describe the course.  And, of course, the prospect of a long-sleeved t-shirt.  So, naturally, on a beautiful clear fall day, I decided this would be a good idea and signed up.

The word “misguided” comes to mind.  So does the word “idiot.”

Over the past few days, Mother Nature has dumped on us repeatedly.  I’m told that this isn’t even that bad and it will get worse.  But it was bad enough that hubby had me checking my email constantly for notification that the race was being cancelled.  No such notification came, though, so on Sunday I dressed in my warmest running clothes and my Smartwool socks and headed down to the Cobblestone District for the Freezer 5K.

I knew immediately that I was in for an interesting race.  The roads on the way downtown were covered in slush and I had to steer around several big piles of snow (and I was driving on a major thoroughfare).  This was no Turkey Trot – just a small, informal, laid-back local race – so I didn’t have any delusions about major efforts to clear the course.  I knew that the course would get the same treatment the other roads got, and we’d have to be content with that.  And it was going to be slick.  I arrived at the race hub – a downtown bar where the race organizers were coordinating packet pick-up and the start – grabbed my bib, my packet and my t-shirt, and headed back to the car to drop off my stuff.  Picking my way through the parking lot, I heard someone calling to me.  A couple sitting in their car to warm up (just what I was on my way to do) asked me if I knew anything about whether there would be chips.

“That’s an excellent question,” I said, realizing that I hadn’t gotten a chip for my shoe and that there was nothing on the back of my bib, and feeling pretty stupid for not even thinking about it while I was picking up my race packet.  “Maybe it’s gun time?”

We chatted for a few minutes and agreed to fill each other in if any of us got an answer (and if I found them again, or vice versa).  I headed to my car and sat with the heaters on full blast, reading blogs until it was time to head to the start.  On my way back into the race hub, I heard “That’s the girl!  Hey!”  Turning around, I saw my new friends from the parking lot, who told me that there were no chips and we were just supposed to hand in a tear-off segment of our bib at the finish.  Not sure how that was supposed to work, and wondering how we’d have official finishing times without chips, I shrugged, thanked them and wished them good luck, and headed off to wait for the start.  Just as I was getting ready to leave the comparative warmth of the bar and venture outside to the start line, the race organizers made a disconcerting announcement:

Part of the course was completely impassible, so there would be a course change.  We were supposed to run by the waterfront, but the area was so socked in with snow that we couldn’t get through.  Instead, we’d be running to a turnaround point and then making an extra lap around First Niagara Center (the local NHL team’s arena).  The course would be a little long as a result, but it was the best they could do.  It didn’t make much difference to me, since I had no time goals and was just there for fun (and obviously, for the t-shirt).  I joined the crowd of runners streaming to the start line, where I took this picture:

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That, in general, was what the course looked like.  There was one short stretch that was clear, and there were a few drifts that we had to run through, but pretty much, this was what we were going to be dealing with.  It got progressively slushier and slicker as the morning went on.  I steeled myself and reminded myself of my only goal for the day: not to break my ankle.  I really didn’t care if it took me 40 minutes – or longer – to finish.  Just as long as I finished without breaking any bones, I was going to consider the morning a wild success.  After all, I already had the t-shirt we’ve established I will go to ridiculous lengths to get.

The Abominable Snowman fired the gun, and we were off.  I followed the crowd and just tried to stay upright.  As we rounded the first corner, a guy shouted out, “It’s just like running on the beach in the Bahamas!  C’mon, gang!  Let’s have fun!”  He got a few cheers in response, and then we all buckled in for the ride.

After my first pass by First Niagara Center, I saw the leaders coming back from the turnaround.  They were hauling the mail, despite the slushy conditions.  I cheered for them inwardly, although I was still trying to focus most of my attention on not falling down.  (That’s also why there are no pictures from this race: I kept my phone in my pocket and my eyes on the road.)  I passed the finish line, noticing that it read just about 20 minutes, and headed out for my second loop around the arena, high-fiving the Abominable Snowman as I settled into the lap.  Before long, I realized my shoe was untied.  Ugh.  I knelt down, tied it, and continued on my way… for about two blocks, before it came untied again – the first and second times I’ve had to stop during a race to tie my shoe.

The Finish Line: Final Time 32:10

As we completed our second lap, I knew I had some gas left, so I made a play to pass a few people.  I hopped over to a relatively clear patch of pavement and just started running as fast as I could.  I pounded my way to the finish line and, just before I tore across, realized that the clock read 32:10.

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WHAT?  32:10 is fast for me, even under the best conditions.  My 5K PR is 32:04 – only six seconds faster than I ran this race, in the slush – and this was a long course (although I don’t know how much past the 3.1 miles it actually went).  I was absolutely shocked at my time.  I’d expected to run closer to 36 minutes and would have been thrilled with that time; the last time I ran a 5K race in the snow I finished in a frustrating 37 minutes (I was pregnant at the time, but didn’t know it yet).

Honestly, I’m not sure how I pulled out this race.  I’m well-conditioned, thanks to Turkey Trot training.  This was also a smaller race, so I didn’t really spend any time weaving around other runners.  But still.  To run 32:10, in the snow, on roads so slippery that I wasn’t sure I’d finish the race upright?  Yeah, I’m a little baffled by that, but also really proud.  Makes me wonder what I could have done under ideal racing conditions… guess I’ll have to look for a spring 5K to find out.

Will I run this race again?  Not sure.  It was fun, and I definitely admire the race organizers for being able to work with the snowy conditions.  But man alive, it was COLD.  Right now, still thawing out, I am inclined to ask hubby to chase me away from the computer if I try to sign up for another December race, long-sleeved t-shirt or no.  But ask me again in October, when I’ll probably think that a holiday race sounds “fun.”  Like I said, misguided.

Edited: The official results are up and it appears the course ended up being short, not long.  My time was 32:11 for 2.76 miles.  So, not a PR, or even close to one, but I still can’t complain – it was slushy and slick and I’m proud to have gotten out there, run in the muck and finished it!

A Winter Walk at Chestnut Ridge

Chestnut Ridge, I think, is one of the prettiest parks in Erie County.  I’ve been there a few times with hubby, my sisters-in-law, my mother-in-law, or some combination thereof, and always had a blast walking in the serene setting.  There are tall trees, stunning vistas, and broad lawns to enjoy… and there are always plenty of people enjoying them.

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This past weekend, I was there taking in the breathtaking winter beauty with hubby, Peanut, and some new friends: Zan of I Choose Buffalo and her new husband (!!!), Paul.  Zan and Paul got married on Thursday and decided that they most wanted to spend their first Saturday as a married couple hanging out with us nerds.  (Psst – Read Zan’s post about our walk here.)

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(They are the cutest couple ever, yes?)

I first found Zan’s blog, I Choose Buffalo, when we were contemplating our move.  Zan lived in D.C. and decided that she wanted to move to Buffalo, where Paul grew up.  She started her blog while still living in D.C. and planning her move, and now that they are here (Zan and Paul moved up to Buffalo about a month before our family did) she writes about cool experiences she’s had in the area, and shares interesting articles about the city and the region.  Zan and I connected through blog comments and Twitter and we’ve had a few “friend dates” since I moved up here.  She had met hubby briefly, but this weekend was the first time we got to meet Paul.  We had such a great time hanging out with this terrific couple, and hope to spend more time getting to know them.

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(Thanks to Zan for the family photo!)

Our first stop was the sledding hill, where we spent a few minutes watching some big kids ride their toboggans.  Chestnut Ridge is one of the best sledding spots around!  Can’t wait to take Peanut back when she’s a bit older.

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From there, we strolled into the woods a short ways.  The main road – where I’d hoped to walk – was closed because the park was hosting a winter festival and they were using it for open air rides to see Santa.  (We didn’t take one, because we thought it would probably take too much time and we wanted to explore on our own a little.)  Instead, we struck off on a path to one of the near shelters… or what would have been a path were it not covered in two feet of snow.  We waded a little, walked in snowmobile tracks, and drafted off one another.  I decided that it would be a good idea to walk in Paul’s footsteps, which necessitated some leaping on my part… he’s a tall guy.  And I am not.

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We only had time for a short walk before we had to turn around and take Peanut back to warm up in the lodge.  It’s a cute space that reminded me of an Alpine ski lodge.  (Note: I’ve never actually been to an Alpine ski lodge, so this is just what I imagine one would be like.)  They had a big Christmas tree with plenty of activities for the kids attending the winter festival – we passed, because Peanut is a little too small for face-painting or paper-gluing.  There was also a big, fabulous fireplace.

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Toasty!  After we warmed up, we realized that it was already 1:30 and our family had to head back into the city for Peanut’s afternoon nap.  Zan and Paul decided to stick around and explore the park some more.  (I felt bad to rush off, but when you’re a slave to naptime, you don’t have much choice!  Hopefully the next time we hang out with our new friends, we can spend a little more time getting to know each other.)

Zan and Paul, thanks again for the great afternoon!  You guys were such good sports to come out in the wind and ice to tramp through snow drifts TWO DAYS AFTER YOUR WEDDING!  (Seriously, how cool are they?)  We had an awesome time… but hopefully, the next time we venture to Chestnut Ridge, it will be just a little bit warmer.  Hey, a girl can dream.

#Middlemarch13 – Vol. III and IV

Middlemarch

Back for another installment of the Middlemarch readalong!  This week, we read through Volumes III and IV of George Eliot’s masterpiece.

Volume III – Waiting for Death

Volume III focuses on the health woes of two old dudes: Mr. Casaubon and another member of the country gentry, Mr. Peter Featherstone.  When Volume III opens, Mr. Casaubon suffers an attack of some sort; it’s unclear which, but it’s either a heart attack or a stroke.  Dorothea is beside herself, and Mr. Lydgate is called in to consult on the case.  Lydgate immediately recommends that Casaubon dial back the hours he spends in the library, and of course, that suggestion doesn’t go over well with Casaubon.  He withdraws further from Dorothea, who continues frustrated in her earnest wish to be helpful.  (Dorothea does get some good news in this volume: Sir James Chettam is going to be her brother-in-law after all!  Yay for a James-and-Celia marriage!)  Dorothea and Casaubon’s marriage is going from bad to worse when Will Ladislaw reappears as a guest of Dorothea’s Uncle Brooke.

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the locality, old grump Peter Featherstone is dying.  Featherstone is uncle to Fred and Rosamond Vincy and the popular supposition around Middlemarch is that Fred Vincy will inherit Featherstone’s estate and title, along with a good wad of money.  Fred himself believes this, and Featherstone has never disabused him of this notion, despite Fred’s (possible – he denies it and it’s never proven) use of his expectations as Featherstone’s heir to obtain loans for his gambling. Fred has had to borrow money from Caleb Garth, a local business man who hasn’t been entirely successful, and after a disaster with a horse, finds himself unable to pay Caleb back.  This is doubly uncomfortable because not only are the Garths old friends of the Vincy family, but Fred would very much like to marry Caleb’s daughter Mary.

Meanwhile, Rosamond continues to scheme for the purpose of winning Lydgate’s affections.  The town matrons start to put two and two together, and Rosamond’s Aunt Bulstrode rather forcibly reprimands her for throwing herself at Lydgate, and also gives her some tough love on the unsuitability of such a match (even if the intended groom actually wanted it).  Aunt Bulstrode’s efforts have the opposite effect of what she hoped, because Lydgate, who at first was induced to avoid the Vincys’ house, stops by one day (not realizing that Rosamond is alone in the house) and she’s so prettily distressed that, quite without intending to, he leaves the house an engaged man.

Featherstone dies at the last, in the presence of his employee Mary Garth.  With his dying breaths, he tells Mary that he has two wills, and he wants her to destroy one of them.  Mary, concerned about imputations being drawn against her if she agrees, refuses to do so.  The consequence is that when the wills are read, quite a few parties – including Fred Vincy – are left in a state of limbo and disappointment.  Meanwhile, the biggest bombshell from the will reading: Featherstone had an illegitimate son, and it is he who will inherit the land and title, although not the lion’s share of Featherstone’s riches.  Drama!

Volume IV – Three Love Problems

While Middlemarch is in upheaval over Mr. Featherstone’s will, several of the country gentry gather to discuss another problem: one of their own and his political ambitions.  Mr. Brooke is known to have reforming ideas and has recently purchased a newspaper and installed Will Ladislaw as editor.  Now, it seems, Mr. Brooke intends to run for office.  Sir James, the Cadwalladers, and Mr. Farebrother scheme to dissuade Mr. Brooke from standing for election.  Among the objections: Mr. Brooke’s seeming hypocrisy, preaching reform while his tenants live miserably.  Sir James decides to enlist Dorothea to help talk her uncle off the ledge – but even Dorothea isn’t successful.

Will is becoming more and more entranced by Dorothea, who for her part is starting to like the guy better and better.  He reports that Uncle Brooke has offered him a job; Dorothea passes the information along to Casaubon, who sends Will a pompous letter telling him that if he accepts the job he will no longer be welcome in the Casaubons’ home.  Will thumbs his nose and the old windbag (yeah!) and takes the job anyway.  Will isn’t the only one with a new job: Caleb Garth gets the good news that he is wanted as the manager of Sir James and Mr. Brooke’s estates (he had once managed Mr. Brooke’s estate, years before, but had been fired) and he can now afford the financial hit he took in lending Fred Vincy money.  Mary Garth, for her part, no longer has to look for another job… so it looks like she’ll be around for Fred to continue to pine after.

Money is causing problems elsewhere, too.  Mr. Vincy is beginning to regret his hasty blessing of the union of Rosamond and Lydgate, but Rosamond is making plans to take on and furnish a big house.  The wedding expenses are getting out of control, and Mr. Vincy – the mayor of Middlemarch, as it happens – is not as flush as he once was.  There are some good jokes at Rosamond’s expense – particularly Mary Garth’s remark that Rosamond would not be able to get married unless she had a round dozen handkerchiefs, “because then there would only be eleven.”  Lydgate has totally come around to the idea of marriage and wants to give his intended bride everything she wants, but methinks he doesn’t quite realize what an expensive proposition that will be.  Meanwhile, the new owner of Stone Court, Joshua Rigg Featherstone, is considering selling the property to Mr. Bulstrode when he receives a visit from his abusive stepfather who, unbeknownst to Joshua, takes away one of Mr. Bulstrode’s letters with him.

Book IV closes with Casaubon summoning Lydgate for a consultation.  He wants to know the truth about the attack he suffered back in Book III, and Lydgate reluctantly confirms that Casaubon has heart disease.  He might live another fifteen years or longer, or he might drop dead at any second.  Casaubon is distressed for two reasons: one, he fears he will never be able to finish his life’s work, The Key to All Mythologies, and two, he is convinced that once he’s gone, Will will lose no time in marrying Dorothea (now Casaubon’s heiress as well).  Such a marriage, according to Casaubon, would be “fatal” to Dorothea, although he never quite explains why.  (Team Will!)  Dorothea has already proven herself susceptible to Will’s words; after learning of his grandmother’s unjust disinheritance, she begs Casaubon to make Will his heir instead of herself.  Casaubon is jealous and pulls away further from his young wife, causing her to resent him even more.  Still, she’s not ready to give up on the marriage, and the book ends with her waiting up for her husband and sweetly holding his hand.

Thoughts Thus Far

In the first two volumes of Middlemarch, I was enjoying the story but was still getting into it.  There are a lot of characters to keep straight and it was a bit of a challenge to map out everyone’s relations to one another.  By Volume III, though, I had a handle on the main players and the overarching plot, and now I’m completely captivated.  George Eliot has created a whole world here.  There is texture and drama and one person’s life is connected to another in a myriad of ways, not all of which are apparent on the surface – just like reality.  I can sink into this story and not see or hear a thing for hours while I read, and that’s just what I love – a book that captures my imagination completely and immerses me in its universe.  I can’t believe my luck, that I’m only halfway through this reading experience!

One thing, though, that I think would have helped me enjoy this experience even more, would have been if I was better acquainted with the social and political issues of the era.  1830s England is not a place I know well.  I read the Introduction before beginning the book, but all it really taught me was that I was going to miss out on a lot of references that would have been clear as day to George Eliot’s contemporaries.  Reform, the economy, the “Catholic Question” – all these historical issues are at play in the characters’ lives throughout Middlemarch, and if I understood the history better, I know I’d get more out of the book.  I’m already anticipating a re-read, after I’ve had the chance to better acquaint myself with the overarching issues that drive Eliot’s story and inform this world.

Stay tuned, because Vols. V and VI are on deck for next Monday!

Are you reading along with Middlemarch?  Enjoying it as much as I am?  Have any information that might enlighten me about the socioeconomic and political references that are going clear over my head?

Virginia on my Tree

We may not live in Virginia anymore, but the state will always have a very special place in my heart.  It was my home for almost nine years (I spent two years living in D.C. before moving to the Commonwealth), and it was the site of so many special things that happened to me in that time.  I came home to my first married nest in Arlington.  I got the news that I was going to be a mother in Alexandria.  My baby’s first (scary, yes, but also magical) weeks were spent in Fairfax.  My years in Virginia were the happiest of my life, and I will always, always treasure the memories I have from that time.

My house is full of Virginia and always will be.  I have paintings by Virginia artists hanging on my walls.  I have photographs of special places – some personal, family photos and some professional – scattered about.  I sip tea from a handmade mug I bought at the Torpedo Factory, and I season my food with salts and spices from my favorite shop on King Street.  Before we left, while we were soaking in the magic that is northern Virginia, hubby and I went on a Christmas ornament-buying spree, because we knew that our Buffalo tree had to reflect our love for our adopted state.  Here are our new additions:

Starting with the top… can you believe that until now, we didn’t have a tree topper?  We just never found one that we liked.  But I wanted this one as soon as I saw it – almost a year before we actually picked it up.  This white dove is a replica of the tip of the weathervane atop Mount Vernon.  You’ll notice it isn’t actually sitting on the very tippy-top of the tree.  It’s so well-made (read: heavy) that the top branch droops if we try to place the tree topper on it.  So it’s nestled in the uppermost branches instead, and I think it looks pretty darn good there.

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If you’ve been to Mount Vernon at Christmas time, you know the story of the Christmas camel.  Every year, George Washington used to procure a camel to entertain his step-children and grandchildren at Christmas.  They still carry on the tradition today, and a camel lives on the Mount Vernon estate and entertains the visitors all through the Christmas season.  For the past few years, it’s been a spirited little guy named Aladdin.  Here’s our own Aladdin:

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Another Mount Vernon Christmas tradition is the rendering of a huge gingerbread mansion inside the visitors’ center.  All year, there is a tiny, perfect, scale dollhouse representing the mansion just where the guests enter the property, but at Christmas, it’s all about gingerbread!  The gingerbread mansion is so impressive and we always loved checking it out.  There were plenty of Mount Vernon ornaments to choose from, but I knew I wanted this one, which gives a nod to the gingerbread version:

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If you know me “IRL,” you have probably heard about my obsession with Presidential china.  (Someday, I’ll tell you all about the time I toured the White House and wowed the Secret Service with my vast knowledge of different administrations’ china patterns.)  The first time I actually saw most Presidential china in person, it was at a special exhibition at Mount Vernon.  (If it seems like we were there a lot, it’s because we lived two miles from the estate.)  Even without the special exhibition, though, Mount Vernon is a mecca for a Presidential china-loving gal.  I always loved checking out the various china patterns that George and Martha collected, including some “protest” china (you’ll see what I mean), their personal china, and finally the Washington Presidential china.  There’s plenty to see in the Museum and Education Center, and I knew I needed Washington china on my tree.  There were miniature plates and cups, but this tea lover wanted the tiny teapots:

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Finally, lest it seem like we only care about Mount Vernon, I have one more ornament to share.  Another one of our stops just before leaving was to the gift shop at Christ Church, our church in Old Town Alexandria, where we picked up a few items by which to remember that special place, where we spent many happy Sundays and where Peanut was baptized.  We grabbed a black and white photo of the historic building (George Washington was a member!) and a copy of the members’ cookbook, complete with little snippets of church history and members’ favorite graces.  And we grabbed this ornament, which I will probably hang up in my kitchen after the holiday season ends:

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And there we have it!  Our new ornaments for this year.  Every time I walk past the tree, one of them catches my eye and I smile, thinking of beautiful Alexandria, where my heart will always be at home.

Any special ornaments on your tree this year?  Any that weren’t there last year?

EXCELLENT WOMEN

Excellent Women

We all know them: those excellent women.  Churchgoing stalwarts, pillars of the community, hands in everyone else’s pies.  Mildred Lathbury is just one such excellent woman.  Mildred is a clergyman’s daughter in her early 30s, living in 1950s London.  Her neighborhood isn’t the best, but she’s found a niche in the All Souls parish, presided over by Father Julian Malory (with the help of his sister Winifred).  Mildred’s already-full plate becomes even more packed when new neighbors Helena and Rocky Napier move into her building and promptly involve her in their marital troubles.  Meanwhile, Father Malory has become engaged – just what he said he’d never do – and to a woman who rubs Mildred (and several of the other excellent women of All Souls) the wrong way.  And then there’s anthropologist Everard Bone, a new acquaintance through Helena, who seems at first to be stuffy and dull, but who might be more interested in Mildred than he seems.

At first, I thought of Mildred as something akin to a younger, urban Miss Read.  Mildred values her solitude and her routines, much like my favorite English schoolteacher.  And they share the same drily witty sense of humor.  (For instance, early on in the book, Mildred explains that she works part-time for a society to help aged gentlewomen who have come down in the world, a cause which is dear to her heart because she can see herself becoming one of them someday.)  But there are some key differences between Mildred and my beloved Miss Read.

For one thing, Mildred is much more of a joiner than Miss Read.  While Miss Read often finds herself pulled into church or community events, she often joins in reluctantly or restricts her participation to overseeing the children.  Miss Read does value her community and is happy to lend her considerable talents to projects as appropriate, but it’s not the be-all, end-all of her existence.  Mildred, however, defines herself based on her place in the hierarchy of excellent women.  She is constantly dashing off to church events or meetings with agendas like “decide about the Christmas bazaar.”  Miss Read would go slowly insane trying to keep Mildred’s schedule.

Another difference: Miss Read values not only her solitude, but also her singleness.  Over the course of twenty books, she is stalwart in her refusal to be drawn into any sort of matrimonial arrangements.  And not only does Miss Read not crave marriage for herself, but she loathes being involved in others’ marital disputes – most notably, those between the Garfields (better known as Amy and James) and the Mawnes.  Mildred, however, would not rule out marriage for herself, should the right man come along (although she’s remarkably dense about Everard, who seems pretty perfect for her) and even engages in some silly daydreaming about her married neighbor, Rocky Napier.  (And she’s a bit smug about her role as the comforter and tea-provider and general clearer-upper and letter-writer after Helena leaves Rocky.)  Mildred differs from Miss Read in that she does want to marry, and in the meantime, she almost gleefully adopts a role as local marriage-meddler.

Now, I don’t mean to compare Mildred with Miss Read either favorably or unfavorably, and nor do I intend to say that Excellent Women is better than the Fairacre books (or vice versa – although I think Fairacre seems a bit friendlier, not quite so catty, of a place).  I viewed Excellent Women through the lens of Fairacre because the writing styles are similar, the time setting is the same (at least for the early Fairacre books) and although the Fairacre folk are country-dwellers and Mildred and her compatriots live in London, I think these characters would find a great deal of familiarity in one another.  Anglophiles who enjoy fiction of a gentle persuasion, set in post-World War II England, will find plenty to smile over in Excellent Women.

Excellent Women, by Barbara Pym, available here (not an affiliate link) or support your local indie bookstore!

I read this book as part of the Classics Club’s Spin, and will be submitting my review for The Classics Challenge.

#Middlemarch13 – Vol. I and II

Middlemarch

It’s the mooooooooooost wonderful tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiime of the yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeear!

No, not Christmas.  Well, yes, Christmas, but also… READALONG TIME!  I can’t believe that before 2013, I’d never participated in a readalong, and now this one will be my third.  (Last spring, I read Villette along with Beth and Amal, and this fall I joined in Kerry’s readalong of Jane Eyre.)  Beth is ending 2013 on a high note, hosting a readalong of Middlemarch, and when she proposed the idea, I immediately knew I wanted in.  After all, Middlemarch has been on my to-read list for years, and how could I find a better reading buddy than Beth?

Here’s the plan for the readalong: Middlemarch is a gigantic tome, so we’re reading it all month long.  Today we’ll be talking about Vol. I (“Miss Brooke”) and Vol. II (“Old and Young”).  Next Monday I’ll recap Vols. III and IV, the week after that, Vols. V and VI, and finally, on December 30th, Vols. VII and VIII as well as the “Finale.”  If you want to join in and geek out over George Eliot in real time, there are several of us on Twitter discussing the book using the hashtag #middlemarch13.  (I’m @backyardyogini.)  So, them’s the rules, and now let’s get to the book chatter.

Volume I: Miss Brooke

Volume I of Middlemarch introduces the primary characters we’ll be following: intense, spiritual Dorothea Brooke; old grouch Edward Casaubon; young artist Will Ladislaw; idealistic doctor Tertius Lydgate; and blazing beauty Rosamond Vincy.  And, of course, there’s another character: the town of Middlemarch, itself.  Lydgate and Rosamond don’t appear much in this volume; as one might expect from the title, we’re more concerned with Dorothea.

When the novel opens, Dorothea is a young heiress living with her uncle Brooke and her younger sister Celia.  Dorothea is, as I noted above, incredibly intense and spiritual.  She’s highly intelligent and longs to live a life of intellectual rigor.  Dorothea, being well-born, beautiful, and an heiress, is considered quite the catch among the gentlemen of Middlemarch.  The baronet Sir James Chettam, in particular, is determined to make her Lady Chettam – but Dorothea has no interest in this sporting, affable chap.  (Poor Sir James.  As I tweeted, he seems like such a nice fella.  I’m rooting for him to end up with Celia, who I like rather a lot.)  Dorothea proves to be quite dense, believing Sir James to be interested only in her sister – and when Sir James proposes to take up Dorothea’s plan to build improved cottages for his tenants, she privately congratulates herself on having found such a sterling future brother-in-law.  Of course, Sir James doesn’t want to be Dorothea’s brother-in-law, and when Celia breaks the news that Sir James is actually courting Dorothea, our heroine is shocked and appalled.  Oh, Dorothea.

Of course, Dorothea does have her eye on someone: one Edward Casaubon.  Casaubon, an associate of Uncle Brooke’s, is a pompous clergyman who is working on a “Key to All Mythologies,” and Dorothea considers him to be the key to her future intellectual life.  She is convinced that Casaubon alone can usher her into the higher realms of thought.  He’s pushing fifty (and Dorothea herself is not quite twenty), but he’s rich, so Uncle Brooke doesn’t feel he has a leg to stand on when it comes to forbidding the match.  Nonetheless, most of Middlemarch is kind of grossed out when they learn of the upcoming wedding between the flower of local society and the crusty old clergyman.  Dorothea, however, can’t be dissuaded, and by the end of Vol. I she is Mrs. Pompous Casaubon.  Yuck.

Volume II: Old and Young

At the end of Volume I, the Casaubons leave for their honeymoon in Rome, and we turn our attention to the other main character: Tertius Lydgate.  Lydgate, who was introduced only briefly in Volume I, is a newcomer to the area.  A doctor bent on reform, he quickly falls in with the local banker, Mr. Bulstrode, who he considers to be a key ally in building an improved local fever hospital.  Bulstrode is as pompous, in his own way, as Casaubon is – as evidenced by his dealings with the Vincy family (relations through Bulstrode’s wife).  Lydgate, for his part, likes the Vincys – especially the daughter of the house, the stunningly gorgeous Rosamond.  Still, there’s a difference between admiring a decorative girl and wanting to get married, and Lydgate has too much to accomplish before he gets married.  He isn’t planning to walk down the aisle for at least five years.  Little does Lydgate know, Rosamond has plans for him.  Oh, does Rosamond ever have plans for him.

There’s an interesting interlude in Volume II, in which Lydgate gets to know the Rev. Mr. Farebrother, a friend of the Vincy family.  Farebrother has been the chaplain of the local hospital, but Bulstrode wants to replace him with a different clergyman, a Mr. Tyke, whose spiritual doctrine more closely matches Bulstrode’s own.  The general consensus among the hospital movers and shakers seems to be that Farebrother is a nice guy and everyone likes him better, and it seems unfair to pluck the position away from him right when it will begin carrying a salary, but Bulstrode has his way in the end – in part, because Lydgate votes with him.  Although Lydgate likes Farebrother very much, and although he personally scorns local politics, he feels he has no choice but to go along with Bulstrode if he wants his fever hospital – and Lydgate does want his fever hospital.  I can see Lydgate’s dealings with Bulstrode becoming a more important plot piece in the future, but in the meantime, it was interesting just to have a glimpse into the inner workings of the Middlemarch elders.  It was also rather ironic to see how quickly Lydgate, for all his wanting to stay above the fray, was dragged into the machinery of local politics and forced to get his hands dirty like everybody else.

Volume II ended with a quick glimpse of the new Mrs. Casaubon on her honeymoon… which she is very much not enjoying.  Casaubon is using his honeymoon as a research trip, leaving his young bride to fend for herself most of the day.  When they do spend time together, Casaubon and Dorothea argue as he misinterprets her well-intentioned questions to be harsh criticism of his work.  In Rome, Dorothea becomes better acquainted with Casaubon’s much-younger second cousin, Will Ladislaw, who she met briefly before her wedding.  Will, who had originally believed that anyone crazy enough to marry his cousin must be intensely unpleasant, soon revises his opinion of Dorothea and finds himself appalled that his cousin would, after having the good fortune to marry this “adorable creature,” leave her alone for long stretches, and on their honeymoon no less!  Will and Dorothea quickly become friendly, and Casaubon isn’t over-thrilled with this development – but he’s too full of himself to be really threatened by Will.

Two volumes in, I am really enjoying Middlemarch.  George Eliot is at her best in the dialogue, and it’s fun to be a fly on the wall as these characters all get to know one another.  Each of Eliot’s characters has a distinctive voice, distinctive, you know.  (See what I did there?  I’m Mr. Brooke!)  Even in the non-dialogue segments, there are so many nuggets of sentences that the whole book feels like digging in an exceptionally rich gold mine.  At first – like Will – I didn’t much care for Dorothea but already, only about a quarter of the way through the book, I find myself pitying her horrible marriage and wishing happiness for her.  (I still think she would have been better off marrying Sir James, but I’m hoping for a James-and-Celia union soon.  Please, George Eliot?)

Stay tuned for my next recap, of Volumes III and IV, coming next Monday!

Reading Round-Up: November 2013

Reading is my oldest and favorite hobby.  I literally can’t remember a time in my life when I didn’t love to curl up with a good book.  Here are my reads for November, 2013…

The Goldfinch, by Donna Tartt – Tartt’s highly anticipated, epic chunkster has been on my to-read list since before its release.  I was so excited to get it from the library, and it was just as fabulous as I expected it to be.  Theo Decker, Tartt’s protagonist, is a deeply troubled, flawed young man.  At the age of 13, Theo miraculously survived a terrorist attack that killed his mother in the Metropolitan Museum of Art.  Theo’s memories of his mother are tied to a small but ethereal Dutch master painting, The Goldfinch.  As Theo grows up, the painting draws him into a dangerous circle.  This was suspenseful, poignant and beautifully written.  My only criticism is that it was about 100 pages too long – but I didn’t even mind that, because I was so glad to spend more time in Theo’s dark, richly textured world.

The Pigeon Pie Mystery, by Julia Stuart – I loved Stuart’s previous book, The Tower, the Zoo and the Tortoise (see my review here), but I wasn’t as captivated by this one.  The characters were almost too quirky and the mystery – who poisoned a reviled member of the grace-and-favour community in Hampton Court Palace? – just didn’t grab me.  Still, it was a cute, fluffy read.

Sense and Sensibility, by Joanna Trollope – I keep reading Austen adaptations, hoping for something I’ll really enjoy, but I’ve never found it – until now.  Joanna Trollope’s adaptation of Sense and Sensibility is spot-on, modern and compelling yet true to the spirit of the original.  Elinor Dashwood is a practical architecture student, Marianne a dreamy guitarist, their mother an artist with a flair for drama.  Trollope masterfully fiddles with the elements of Austen’s original that wouldn’t quite work today (explaining away the sisters’ disinheritance, for example) and weaves contemporary elements into the classic story.  This is Austen with iPods and Facebook, and it’s a hoot.

The Thinking Woman’s Guide to Real Magic, by Emily Croy Barker – I had been waiting and waiting and itching to get my hands on this, and… I was pretty disappointed.  This is the story of one Nora Fischer, an anxiety-ridden graduate student who stumbles into an alternate world, where she quickly falls in love and is married to a prince who turns out to be a monster.  After a terrifying encounter with her husband, Nora is rescued by the magician Aruendiel, and she soon finds that if she wants to survive in this treacherous world, she must learn to do magic too – because her mother-in-law, the fearsome Ilissa, will stop at nothing to get Nora back.  I thought this book would be a blast to read, but mostly, I was just bored.  Nora spends pages and pages doing things like mucking out horse stalls, peeling potatoes, and magically mending broken bowls.  Yawn.  Even when the action picked up toward the end of the book, I had no trouble putting down the book and walking away from the climactic scene.  And worse: despite the title of the book, Nora didn’t do much, or any, thinking – she was just a pawn in the war between Aruendiel and Ilissa, and a dull one at that.  The book desperately needed an editor’s red pen – if it had been about 250-300 pages shorter, it might have held my attention.  As it was… blah.

Poet’s Pub, by Eric Linklater – Saturday Keith is a terrible poet, but a terrific publican, as he discovers when his Oxford chum’s mother, Lady Mercy Cotton, asks him to manage the newest acquisition in her brewing and pub business.  Originally called The Downish Helican, Lady Mercy’s new property has long been known as “The Downy Pelican,” and when word gets out of its new landlord, it becomes simply “Poet’s Pub.”  The first half of the book is a slow and ponderous introduction to the Pelican and its residents, told through a series of vignettes.  Things pick up, though, with a theft and a kidnapping and a hilarious car chase involving a charabanc.  I’ve heard Poet’s Pub compared to a P.G. Wodehouse novel, and it’s easy to see parallels, although they have their differences.  This little-known classic made for some fantastic reading.

Royal Blood (Her Royal Spyness Mysteries #4), by Rhys Bowen – This installment of Lady Georgie’s adventures finds our heroine suddenly beset by the most unwelcome houseguests – her wishy-washy brother Binky and his odious wife Fig, who is expecting a new little Rannoch.  Georgie escapes via a convenient request by Queen Mary: represent the British Royal Family at the Transylvania wedding of Princess Maria Theresa of Romania and Prince Nicholas of Bulgaria.  The bride – who turns out to have been Georgie’s old school chum Moony Matty – has specially requested Georgie as a bridesmaid.  Georgie is relieved at the excuse to depart London, but when she arrives at Bran Castle, all is not as it should be.  The castle is terrifyingly gloomy and forbidding – even to one who grew up in the chilly environment of Rannoch Castle.  Strange visitors are popping out of paintings in Georgie’s room at midnight, the bride might be a vampire, Georgie has accidentally become engaged to Prince Siegfried (a.k.a. Fish-Face) and a reviled wedding guest is poisoned!  Georgie is going to need all her wits about her to dodge the descendants of Vlad the Impaler and catch the murderer before someone else is bumped off and the wedding is ruined!  A fun romp, as always – I love Georgie more and more with each adventure.

November was kind of a slow month for me, reading-wise.  I’ve had my attention pulled in a number of directions lately and I spent most of the month still in a bit of a reading rut.  Some of the books I picked up this month disappointed me, more so because I thought I’d love them.  But I did have some good reading moments – the second half of Poet’s Pub, in particular, and of course I always love a visit with Lady Georgiana.  December promises to be plenty of fun, as I’ve joined up with another of Beth’s readalongs – this one of Middlemarch, which I’ve been wanting to read for a long time.  Stay tuned for plenty of book chatter next month!

Thanksgiving Weekend 2013

Ahhhhhhh.  That was quite a weekend!  Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays because not only does it include some of my most-anticipated food of the year (turkey! cranberry sauce with rings! mashed potatoes!), but it also kicks off a month or more of delicious pre-Christmas anticipation.

As promised, I’m back to give a full recap of our Thanksgiving weekend festivities – because this Thanksgiving did go on all weekend.

Thanksgiving Day

I’ve already told you about my morning – running the Buffalo Turkey Trot with my sisters-in-law Emma and Grace.  (By the way, here’s a cool article about the Turkey Trot, which I meant to share on Friday, found via my friend Zan’s blog I Choose Buffalo.)  So, picking up from there: amidst the finish line craziness, Emma and Grace and I reunited with my father-in-law, who was our chauffeur and spectator-in-chief for the morning.  Dad drove us back to my in-laws’ house where we all got cleaned up and pitched in with the final stages of meal preparation.

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Soon my little turkey arrived and Thanksgiving was complete.

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I even got the chance to take some “three generations” photos!

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Dinner was served around 1:30 and it was delish.

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My plate:

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Post-meal, we lounged around reading or napping and discussing the ridiculous view out the window.

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Friday

Our family Christmas traditions start on the Friday after Thanksgiving, when we decorate our tree.  (We have an artificial tree, so we can put it up as early as we like and leave it up as long as we want to.)  Some years, it’s just been hubby and me decorating.  Other years, if we’ve been hosting weekend guests for Thanksgiving, we include them in the festivities.  This year we invited my in-laws over to decorate and I can see that becoming our new tradition.  Everyone had such fun!  (And the tree was trimmed in record time with all those extra helping hands.)

Pre-trimming, all assembled and waiting for decorations:

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Snacks!  (That’s red and green bell peppers with a rosemary and white bean dip, and a port wine cheese log, which I must have for this particular gathering.)

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Post-trimming (look for a post coming soon about some new ornaments we acquired just before leaving Virginia):

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And a new part of the tradition: entertaining Peanut with Christmas book ’ems:

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Saturday and Sunday

Saturday was our second Thanksgiving, the big extended-family celebration at hubby’s aunt’s house.  It was a delicious meal – of course – and a great time.  I didn’t get any pictures, though, because I was on baby duty all evening while hubby caught up with family and friends he rarely sees.  My night was spent making loops of the house, holding Peanut’s hands while she toddled after the dog.  Yep – this weekend Peanut really started to get the hang of using two feet to get around, so long as she has someone’s hands to hold.  I spent most of Saturday and Sunday bent over at the waist, heh.

On Sunday we had a relaxing day at home, which we needed after all of that celebrating earlier in the weekend:

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Happy Thanksgiving (again), friends!  I hope you all had a wonderful weekend.

Buffalo-Niagara YMCA Turkey Trot 2013

Happy Thanksgiving to my American friends!  I hope you all had a fabulous day yesterday, filled with plenty of turkey and mashed potatoes and cranberry sauce (the Thanksgiving Trifecta, as I like to call it).  I did, and I’ll fill you in all about the whole weekend on Monday, but today I want to share how I started Thanksgiving Day: with 12,000 of my closest friends, running down Delaware Avenue in Buffalo.

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This was my third Turkey Trot, and it’s such a fun way to kick off the holiday season.  I ran the Buffalo Turkey Trot with my sister-in-law Grace back in 2010 and the Troy Turkey Trot with my dad and high school BFF in 2011.  (I didn’t trot in 2012, because I was still recovering from Hurricane Peanut.)  This year I had a big goal – I really, really wanted to PR (beat my personal record in the 8k distance).  I trained hard over the course of the fall and I was pretty confident that I’d get not only a PR, but a big one… until race day, when I woke up to this view:

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I’m all for a white Christmas, but a white Thanksgiving?  That’s real… unnatural.

Needless to say, I was pretty unhappy about the view out my window.  We live on a major, high-traffic road and the race was being run not too far from my neighborhood.  So I was just a leetle bit worried about the road conditions.  It looked as though the plough went through, but there was no salt on the road and there was an inch of slushy slop covering the entire surface.  If Delaware Avenue – on which 95% of the race is run – looked anything like this, I knew my PR was out the window.  I wanted to set a new record for myself, but not badly enough to break an ankle.  So I took a deep breath and tried to revise my goal to just have fun with my sisters-in-law and worry about a PR at the Shamrock 8k in March.

I grabbed an easy but filling breakfast (banana with pecan butter, Larabar and two cups of tea) and at 8:35 on the button, my father-in-law and sisters-in-law rang the doorbell.  I hopped in the car and my father-in-law dropped me, Emma and Grace off at the starting line.  We were almost late – thanks, snow and traffic – and had to run to the corrals, but we made it.

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Have I mentioned that it was COLD?  The temperature was in the high teens.  Brrrrrrrr.

I could tell immediately upon arriving at the start line that Delaware Avenue looked much better than my street.  Yay!  The city snow crews must have given my street a cursory effort because they were all busy getting Delaware into race shape.  (They obviously went back for a second pass at my street later, because it looks fine now.)  The road was a little wet, but otherwise perfectly fine.  I decided to go for my PR after all.  My A, B and C goals for the race were:

A – Beat my previous 8k PR of 56:19.
B – Run the entire race in under an hour.
C – Finish.  (This is always my C goal.  Heck, sometimes it’s my A goal!)

The loudspeakers played The Star-Spangled Banner, and we were off!

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(The start lines, viewed from the corrals just as we started to move.)

Miles 0-1

The first mile of the race was wall-to-wall people.  I tried to find some running room, but there wasn’t really much space to be had.  I waved to my father-in-law, who was cheering just past the start line and spent the rest of the mile fighting my way through the crowds.  The first mile does contain one of the most fun moments of the race – when you run under the “New York Central” bridge and everyone shouts “WOOOOOOO!” all at once.  Sorry for the crummy picture, but I was running:

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As expected, the first mile was my slowest – but I was so distracted by just trying to find an unoccupied patch of pavement to put my feet that it seemed like no time at all before I saw the flag marking Mile 1.

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Miles 1-2

Aside from the finish line, I was happiest and most excited during this stretch, because I knew that “my” spectators would be waiting for me.  Just as expected, right before the 1.5 mile mark, I saw my two favorite faces:

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Look how disgruntled Peanut is!  You can just see her thinking, “What new way have they come up with to torture me now?”  I took a quick detour to give her kisses all over her face, and she slapped me.  I laughed and headed back onto the road.

Miles 2-4

Somehow I missed the mile marker for Mile 3, and this felt like the longest mile of my life, until I realized… duh.  This was the stretch where I dug deep and focused on running a smart race.  There was one traffic circle and I carefully ran the tangents in an attempt to get down closer to the shortest legal distance.  (A smart strategy during any race, but especially a race like this, where the crowd never thinned out and I spent the entire time weaving between other runners – I knew that I was running much longer than the 8k distance.)  I dug into my bag of motivational tricks to keep my feet going: picking a spot on the pavement to stare at until I ran over it, and then another and another, and repeating my favorite mantras: “go mama go” and “strong legs, strong mind.”  I pulled out that second mantra when the lazy part of my brain started suggesting that I take a walk break – even though I knew that I didn’t need one.  My legs weren’t tired at all and the rest of me felt great too, so it was only my mind that wanted to slow down and walk.  I instructed my mind to get on board with my legs, and we kept running.

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Miles 4-4.97

Just before Mile 4, the road starts sloping noticeably downhill.  Yay!  (It’s pretty much all flat or downhill anyway, but the last major stretch is really downhill, and so much fun.)  My overall plan for the race had been to run at a comfortable pace for the first four miles and conserve plenty of energy, and then turn on the burners in the last mile.  So when I saw the flag marking Mile 4, I started to gradually pick up the pace.  By the time we entered Niagara Square, with just under half a mile left, I was flying.  (Or, flying as best I could while weaving in and out of the crowds of other runners.)  I turned two corners and saw the finish line looming up ahead.  Hooray!  Or maybe not…

The Finish Line

This was where my race experience soured.  I ran all out in the last short stretch and I felt like I was floating two feet above the road… until about five feet before the finish line, when I came to a screeching halt.  There was a bottleneck inside the finishers’ chute, caused by people crossing the line and coming to a dead stop (exactly what the pre-race email warned people not to do), and the bottleneck had spilled out of the finishers’ chute and was making it impossible to cross the finish line at all, let alone at a run.

I just barely managed to stop without mowing down the people in front of me and immediately screamed with frustration.  Was I really standing here, completely still, not moving at all, five feet before the finish line?  This had to be a joke.  Alas… nope.  Those last five feet took almost a full minute to travel.  I was incredibly frustrated because up to that point, I had run exactly the race I wanted to, I was feeling great about my training and the effort I’d put in, and I knew I was very close to my hoped-for PR.  I finally crossed the line, but instead of the huge smile I had worn for 99% of the race, I had a huge scowl.

Final time: 55:40.

So, despite the snag at the finish line, I did end up hitting my “A” goal for the day.  I PRed by 39 seconds.  I was happy to get the PR I wanted, of course, and I was proud of the effort I put into training and on race day… but it stinks to know that you could have finished faster, were it not for a circumstance outside your control, like bottlenecking at the finish line.  If I had missed out on a PR because of the weather, I’d have been bummed, but I wouldn’t have been too upset, because no one can control that.  But losing out on the chance to sprint across the finish line because of other people’s inconsiderate behavior – stopping in the finishers’ chute – really left a bad taste in my mouth.  I tried to reframe the experience in my mind to make it more positive: after all, if I hadn’t trained well, run smart, and poured it on in the last mile, I wouldn’t have hit my PR at all.  So the good work I did earlier in the race made it possible for me to have a good day and meet my “A” goal – my first PR in over three years! – despite hitting a snag at the finish line.

Still, I’m looking ahead to another chance to PR, and this time the way I want to, at the Shamrock 8k in March.  I’ll be crossing that finish line at speed, even if I have to sprout wings and fly.

If you trotted on Thursday, I hope you had a great race!  I’ll be back on Monday with a recap of the rest of our Thanksgiving festivities.

Peanut’s Gratitude List

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ADULTS!

LISTEN!

Do you know what is happening on Thursday?  Thursday is THANKSGIVING.  You might not know about this holiday but I am here to remind you not to be lazy and to go make me some pie.  (Seriously.  Now.  What are you waiting for?)  I will have apple pie thank you.  Hold the cinnamon because I’m allergic.

Anyway, on top of being a holiday about making food for me to eat (get to work) Thanksgiving is also supposedly about being thankful for things.  I know this because Mommy and I have been reading a book about Thanksgiving called Thanksgiving is for Giving Thanks.  If you don’t know this book, basically, it is about a bunch of kids who are sweeter than a pouch of applesauce talking about all of the things that make them happy.  (Bragging, most like.  That kid who is thankful for his teacher because she hangs his art on the wall and makes him feel special?  Can we say humblebrag?)

So Mommy says that we should spend time this week thinking of the things that we are thankful for.  Like, for example, Mommy is thankful for me.  (Well, obviously.  I’m stinking adorable and everybody loves me.)

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Mommy asked me what I am thankful for, so I made a list.

Peanut’s Gratitude List

1.  Cars.  Vroom vroom!

2.  Kitties.

3.  Doggies.  When are we getting one, Mommy?

4.  When Mommy and I go for runs in the stroller and she actually makes an effort to go fast.  Wheeeee!

5.  Wrapping paper.

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6.  Book ’ems.

7.  Doggies.

8.  Cheese.

9.  My stuffed tiger and my moose and my taggie blanket.

10.  Oh, okay, fine – Mommy and Daddy and my grandparents and my aunties and my uncle.

11.  Doggies.

Also, Mommy didn’t mention this part but there are some things that I could do without.  Vegetables come to mind, as does the pediatrician, and also footwear.  (Mommy, why do you continue putting sock ’ems and boots on my feet even though I rip them off and throw them across the room every single time?  Can you not take a hint?  Can we not learn from the episode where I threw my boot in Target and you didn’t notice and then we had to go all around the store looking for it?)  So, Mommy, if you could get to work on getting rid of these things and also everything else that annoys me I think I could be even more thankful next year.  Bye bye.