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Last summer my husband, Rich, and I spent five days on the Isle of Jersey, one of the Channel Islands in the English Channel. Although they belong to Britain, they are much closer to the coast of France and are … Continue reading
Mothers’ Day is still nearly a week away, but I already have my Mothers’ Day presents – time with each of my children. It was just coincidence that it happened this way, but it was a lovely confluence of events. At this point in my life, there is nothing more meaningful than spending time with people and creating memories. And I just stored up a week’s worth of the best of both.
It started with my middle son, Carl. 
Despite having moved to DC and started a new job, the arrival of a new niece was reason enough for him to make a special trip home. So a week ago, he inhabited our extra bedroom once again, and we spent a weekend hanging out as a family and doing some of our favorite activities together – enjoying a meal, going out for coffee after church, playing cards and of course cuddling the new arrival and playing with 2 year old Ben. It was a low key and relaxing weekend, with time enough to talk and just be.
Immediately afterwards, my 
daughter, Karen, and I spent three days together in Duluth. We took advantage of her being home on maternity leave for some special time together, along with the grand-kids. Just tending to the kids took most of our time – how quickly one forgets just how all consuming that can be! But it was joyful time with the freedom from other tasks on our plates, with plenty of opportunity to talk and share. The weather even obliged by gifting us with a beautiful day to sit at the water’s edge at Brighton Beach and throw the endless supply of rocks into the lake.
My next visit required a bit of travel. Armed with audio books and podcasts, I made the drive out to Indiana for Moms’ Weekend with my youngest son, Erik, at Rose-Hulman. Even though I knew we’d be back in less than three weeks for graduation, I wanted this last Mom’s time with him. He got up early to share the decadent B&B breakfasts with me, we went for a long bike ride and rewarded ourselves at Dairy Queen, and he demonstrated the robot he programmed for his Senior Design project. Walks in the park and seeing the college production of Phantom of the Opera rounded out our weekend.
It is such a blessing to have adult children with whom it is such a pleasure to spend time. I am a very lucky Mom.
It started with my husband. During his senior year of college, he spent a week in Antigua with his parents. Not with his brothers, just him and his parents. It made a big impression on him, and he felt it was a special time shared with his parents before he left school and started his first job. At his suggestion we decided to replicate it.
Even when they were young, we told our children about this plan. When they graduated from college, we would take them – not their siblings – on a trip, to a destination of their choosing. Over the years, it became my favorite dinner time probe. Where do you think you will go for your graduation trip?
Our first trip was to Jamaica. Our daughter, Karen, wanted a beach vacation, and a place to relax and soak up the sun after a hectic senior year. We found a wonderful small resort, Catcha Falling Star, perched 
on the cliffs south of Negril. We loved our round air-cooled cottage, jumping into the deep blue waters off the rocks, reading by the waterside, and sampling the local fare for dinner. It was a week of pure relaxation and slow pace. It was on that trip that Karen shared with us the depth of her love for her now-husband. Truly a special time!
The next trip took us to Alaska. Our son, Carl, was looking for adventure and wilderness. Traveling around the southern portion of the state our favorite venue was Bowman’s Bear Creek Lodge on the Kenai Peninsula. From there we experienced sea kayaking in Resurrection Bay, fishing for salmon, 
hiking on glaciers, and enjoyed the best weather of the trip. The rustic log cabins at Bowman’s and delicious dinner savored on the porch were the perfect complement to our outdoor experience. We especially relished that week with Carl, as soon afterwards he left for a year’s study abroad as part of his master’s degree program in International Relations.
And now the third and final trip. Erik will graduate this spring and has selected Banff and Jasper in the Canadian Rockies for his trip. Hiking and mountains were the key ingredients for him. The tickets are purchased, lodging reservations in the making, and anticipation is growing. Now all he has to do is get his diploma.
That will be the end for this generation. Will they continue the tradition?
For almost two months now, I have been diligently training. Cycling 3-4 days a week, with at least one and more often two long rides. I’m up to 40 miles at a stretch now. I’ve even worked in some hill training. It has felt good. I can feel my strength increasing, my endurance improving and the early pain in my knees has melted away. I really feel like I’m making progress! Bring on the Trans-Superior Cycling Tour – I’m going to be good and ready!
Just for fun, I thought I’d check on my overall mileage. My favorite tracking software, SportTracks, calculates cumulative mileage for my equipment. So a quick check after today’s ride gave me the answer. 598 miles. Seriously? That’s all? Working the math backwards through my recent rides, I figured out that I hit 500 miles some time during last Tuesday’s ride. It took me 1.5 months to cycle what we’re planning on doing on a 9-day Tour… What a blow.
Good thing that Tour isn’t until August. I think I have more training to do.
It was our last day in the French countryside. Staying in a 200-year-old farmhouse in a village of 100 people, my husband, Rich, and I had spent the week in our preferred style of travel – visiting small, out of the way places and savoring the local flavor.
Our destination for that afternoon was Lucon, chosen for its nice Cathedral and formal gardens. When we arrived, it was clear that we’d stumbled upon an event of some kind. It turned out to be the start of a running race. As runners ourselves, it was with a pang of envy that we watched the racers pass. Being spectators has never been our strong point. Returning our attention to the “sights” of the town, we found a sign listing the afternoon’s events. We had just witnessed the start of the 5500m race, and the 10k was yet to come in an hour. An instantaneous moment of insanity gripped us, as we considered entering the race. But our running gear was an hour’s drive away, too far to make it back in time. Practicality ruled, and we continued our way through the town center. Browsing in shop windows and taking in the town’s architecture consumed 45 minutes, but not our minds…they were still back on that race. So with 15 minutes to the start, we entered in our own race against time – getting outfitted and into that race!
Our first destination was a shoe store, where we rushed in and tried to explain in our best high school French (now decades past) that we needed shoes to run in that race! We managed to find two pair that would do, but did not want to commit to buying them unless we could complete the outfit with shorts. Struggling to get our point across, we acquired directions to the sporting goods store, where we found and changed into new running shorts. While I completed the transaction for the shoes, Rich made a dash for the starting line. When I joined him there, he was explaining our plight to the officials – we wanted to race, but alas were not registered. All this with moments to go before the starting time. The response, “C’est ne pas grave!” (that’s not serious) and an invitation to join the race was all it took. Soon we were off with the starting gun!
Somehow we managed to understand that the race would be three loops through town. We both ran on adrenaline, not being in our best racing condition, and were cheered on by the officials at the starting line each time we passed. A couple of times we were spotted for running without racing numbers, but a quick shout “Je suis le Americaine!” was all it took – the return look was understanding and forgiveness. We were steered away from the official chutes at the finish, but the words “Etats Unis” ringing out over the loud speakers recognized our finish in a unique way.
Our friend from the starting line soon sought us out, along with a woman who turned out to be a local reporter covering the race. Learning the tale of how we entered the race, she entreated us to stay for the awards ceremony. In the meantime, we took a quick loop through town to return to the shops where we had made our purchases. Miming our success, we joyfully thanked the merchants amidst exchanges of congratulations and laughter. We returned to find an Olympic-style podium where local dignitaries presented trophies and large bouquets of flowers to the winners of the various races. The next thing we knew, we heard them announcing our names!
The journalist woman ushered us up to the front, where they asked us to take our places on the #1 and #2 stands! Our French served us well enough to understand the Consular General’s description for the 
audience of how we had come to visit their town, patronized their local shops and joined in the race. He then turned to us and thanked us in his best English. Thinking we were done, we were about to depart when he presented us each with a trophy cup, accompanied by a kiss on each cheek for me, 1-2-3 times, as is the custom in Lucon! We felt quite the celebrities!
We never did see that Cathedral, nor the formal gardens. But there is no doubt we took in the local flavor.
This gallery contains 6 photos.
I’m a creature of habit. On our annual cross-country ski weekends, I clamber out of bed at an absurd hour to get in a brisk morning ski before indulging in our sumptuous B&B breakfast. My friend, Susan, prefers to nourish … Continue reading
When my children were very little, I 
took up running to stay in shape. As in most things I do, I jumped into it wholeheartedly, and was soon hooked on running and entering local races. When I could, I’d bring the kids along and enter them in the kids’ Fun Runs. They even humored me when they got older, and joined me in some 10k races.
Time marches on. Kids grow up and become 
more independent, and parents have more time. I moved up to half-marathons and then marathons. It was Mom’s running obsession, but they were always there to cheer me on. That was the extent of their involvement, or so I thought.
It wasn’t until they got into college that the seeds started to grow. One by one, they took up running or cycling. It wasn’t long before they too were reaching for extreme goals. My daughter joined my husband and me running Grandma’s Marathon. Two years later we added my youngest son as well! Our middle son – always the independent thinker, no running for him, thank you – did the MS150 bike ride and the week-long RAGBRAI bike ride across Iowa. And that was just the beginning – we have shared numerous races and events since then.
How did we become such an athletic family? Those seeds must have germinated.
What’s your definition of a perfect cookie? Mine would include words like chewy, thick and substantial. I like a cookie that you can bite into and feel its heft, but not experience a crunch. It wou
ld include lots of chocolate chips, probably oatmeal, and sometimes peanut butter. So how come it’s so hard to get them to turn out right? What makes a cookie dribble out into flatness, or turn crisp when you give it just a few more seconds in the oven? How do you find that fine line between doughy and overdone? Over the years, I have tried innumerable recipes in search of that perfect cookie. I even lured over my elderly former-cateress neighbor to give me baking lessons, as her cookies always defined perfection. But once back on my own, even her recipe failed to achieve.
I do have one secret remedy. Those overly-crisp cookies? Just sneak a piece of bread into the cookie jar with them – and voila, soft cookies! Works every time, and infuriates my son who happily devours my trials and happens to prefer crispy cookies. But still, I persist. I’m determined to get it right. And there are far worse endeavors and by-products!
Living near the big lake, one can’t help but be interested in protecting this unique body of water. Fortunately, there just happens to be an organization devoted to that specific purpose.
We stumbled on the Lake Superior Binational Forum while planning our cycling tour. To be honest, it was their logo that attracted our attention as we thought it would look cool on our cycling jerseys. But looking more closely at their website, we discovered a lot of great material on protecting Lake Superior.
The Forum was started in 1991 and consists of volunteer representatives from Canada and the US states that border Lake Superior. Their purpose is to provide input to agencies and governments on managing the lake, and educate local residents about ways to protect and restore the lake’s natural resources. Their vision statement is “Water is Life…and the quality of water determines the quality of life.” That resonated with us.
It’s easy to get involved by being a Lake Superior Steward. All they ask is that you make simple wise choices in areas of conservation, recycling, and use of natural resources – which you may already be doing. In return, you will be connected with people who care about the lake, and have the opportunity to receive an informational e-newsletter or provide input on programs to protect the lake and its environment. Another option is to attend or participate in the many programs which are part of Lake Superior Day, July 15, 2012.
By the way, they readily agreed to let us use their logo. It is already emblazoned on our jerseys along with their web address, and we are hoping it generates interest on our cycling tour. And we’ve already signed up to be Lake Superior Stewards.
This gallery contains 6 photos.
I am no photographer. My pocket sized Canon PowerShot is always within reach, and my job is to document family events and special moments in pictures. But there are times when Mother Nature begs to be captured as well. Today … Continue reading
Superior Footprints 