A walk in the woods
I am not running right now. My last attempt was a week and a half ago, a long weekend run of 15.5km on a bitterly cold and windy afternoon. The light was thin. My hip cried the entire time. That necessitated a frank assessment of my physical limitations, and a visit to my family doctor, and his request that I refrain from running. For now. I see a sports medicine doctor on Friday and the truth is that I’m holding out hope that his opinion will be otherwise: Go ahead and run! It can’t do any harm! (Hope hurts.)
Meantime, I am getting by with extra yoga classes, which seem to be helping. At the very least, I am strengthening and stretching and practicing my breathing. I am also continuing to swim, though not quite to the distances I’m used to: I stop when it starts to hurt rather than pushing on (the opposite of my usual style). And there’s spin class once a week.
But as mentioned in a previous post, none of those activities gets me outside. I’m missing not just the endorphin magic of a good run. I’m missing the bitter cold, the snow, the wind, the purposeful entry into the elements, even (and maybe especially) into the unpleasant elements. I’ve gone for runs in the dark, in cold rain, in hail, in blazing sunshine, in humidity. I also run in less extreme conditions, but it’s those more adventurous outings that stick with me, that please me most, that seem like tests of will and determination; there is a thrill to just sticking with it, hanging in there, going on. I could see how that sounds psychologically revealing; and not everyone’s cup of tea. And I accept that this injury may teach me many good things that I couldn’t learn otherwise: such as the value of stopping rather than pushing through; and patience. That too.
On Sunday, I went to my daughter’s soccer practice. It was a clear sunshiny afternoon, bright with snow on the ground. I could not run. But I decided not to sit by the sidelines indoors. Instead, I dressed for the weather, took my camera, and went for a hike in the woods. The trails were so familiar, trails I ran on all last summer and fall. And I was able to walk briskly without pain. It wasn’t like a good run, no, but it’s not fair to compare. It was exactly what it was: a walk in the woods.
Many of the photos came out with a melancholy feel (as above; do you agree?). I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s the wintry landscape, the bare trees. Or maybe it’s the eye that was seeing the wintry landscape and bare trees. Whatever was captured, melancholy was not what I felt upon returning home. I felt better. Just plain better.
The week in suppers: rush, rush, rush
Cooking with kids: Fooey’s turn
**Monday’s menu: Falafels, pitas, hummus, and tabbouleh.
**Woot for Dad: All freshly made by Kevin (with the exception of the pitas). I was in Toronto, so he said he’d take care of supper. And he did.
**Must remember: Very popular meal. I added hot sauce to my stuffed pita.
**Tuesday’s menu: Chili in the crockpot. Leftover rice and lentils. Leftover tabbouleh salad.
**Because: Brief turnaround time between swim lessons and soccer.
**Must remember: People are getting tired of Mom’s chili. Sorry, people.
**Wednesday’s menu: Pasta with pesto. Pan-fried shrimp. Turkey broth noodle soup. Cabbage salad.
**Happily: Used frozen pesto made last summer, but only had enough pasta to make half the portion I usually do for our family. Therefore, added the noodle soup to the mix. Used turkey broth frozen from Christmas, added some leftover pesto for flavour. Threw this meal together in under half an hour.
**Thursday’s menu: Leek and potato soup. Roasted squash. Cornbread. Leftover cabbage salad.
**Tuber time: I have 50 pounds of potatoes in the cold cellar, so we brainstormed uses, such as this potato soup. It really could hardly be better. CJ devoured it. So did Albus. So did I! But we also thought up: oven fries and mashed potatoes. There must be more of a variety, right? Send suggestions.
**Friday’s menu: Baked potato bar at church.
**Because: Community-building. And I don’t have to cook or do dishes.
**Also: Speaking of other uses for the potato.
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**Weekend kitchen accomplishments: Four loaves of bread. Four loaves of banana bread (baked at 7:30pm on Saturday night, just before heading out poetry book club; they were still in the oven when I left, so Kev had to finish the task.)
**Cooking with kids: Sunday supper. Fooey’s turn. Indian theme.
**Menu: Saag paneer. Tandoori shrimp. Homemade samosas. Basmati rice. Raita. Cabbage salad. Take-out naan bread and pakoras. Tropical fruit salad and banana bread for dessert.
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**One last thing: A friend I’ve made through this blog (a poet and writer and mother who lives on the other side of this country) asked whether I’d mind if she posted her own spin-off of The Week in Suppers. Of course I said yes! Check out her first installment. I was interested to see what her fall-back meals were. And I want the recipe for her lentil loaf!
**One more one last thing: My TNQ giveaway open until Friday!
Around the house
Around the house, today …
**The phone has rung about 16 times today for one child or another. The busy social lives of the ten-and-under crowd. CJ wanted in on the action and has been looking for a friend to come over. Problem is, he’s three and so are his friends; so far we’ve struck out. “Would you be scared to go by yourself to [friend’s name] house?” “Yes.” “Well, he probably feels the same way.” “But he’s not scared at nursery school.”
**I can’t go for my long run due to injury (see my triathlon blog for the painful details). In fact, I can’t even go for a short run just to blow off steam. This has made for a jumpy grumpy woman. Alternatives? What would you do if you couldn’t run? Running has become such a huge part of my life, a major tool in my mental health kit; it isn’t easy to replace, even temporarily. I’m planning to hit a yoga class this afternoon. But yoga lacks the adventure of running. Yoga happens indoors, as does swimming and spinning. Running outside in all weathers has changed my experience of the outdoor world and made winter a friendly place, for me.
**I am baking bread, doing laundry, picking up toys, and vacuuming. None of these activities are helping with my restlessness.
**It’s a beautiful, cold, sunny winter’s day. I am trying to convince my two youngest to go outside and build something in the snow. Hey — looks like the promise of hot chocolate afterward did the trick!
**While vacuuming I finally swept up all of the white feathers on AppleApple’s floor. When questioned about the provenance of the feathers, she posited that they were coming from her duvet. So I checked. And discovered a hole that had been patched with a scrap of cloth and pink thread. The child had attempted to fix the problem herself! Without ever mentioning it to me! I felt both proud and dismayed. What else is she attempting to fix by herself, without telling me? I had to rip out the stitches and sew the torn cloth together; no patch job was going to fix the problem. Oh dear, I am seeing nothing but metaphor.
**Speaking of metaphor, my poetry book club meets tonight. And now I can’t even find the book. Last seen a week ago at soccer practice where, unable to go for my usual run, I was attempting to read and take notes by the side of the field; and failing pretty miserably. It all circles back to the running!
**Finally, if you haven’t signed up for The New Quarterly giveaway, please consider it. My goal right now is to get at least ten people’s names in the hat.
Friday giveaway: The New Quarterly, winter, 2012
The latest issue of The New Quarterly (winter, 2012) featuring one of the chapters from The Juliet Stories. ie. your chance to get a sneak preview
Okay, friends, let’s give the giveaway a shot. So, I’ll offer up a prize, interested readers comment below, and a week from today (Jan. 27) we’ll have a draw and announce a winner. Sound like a plan?
Yesterday I visited The New Quarterly’s office and picked up copies of their latest issue. The New Quarterly is a local literary magazine with pedigree and staying power. They’ve published award-winning Canadian talent like Annabel Lyon, Erin Noteboom Bow, Douglas Glover, Stephen Heighton, Russell Smith, Diane Schoemperlen, Rebecca Rosenblum, and Andrew Pyper, to name just a few. A recent issue offered an interview with one of my favourite writers, ever, Alice Munro. Their issues frequently sell out.
Over the years, I’ve been blessed to be a part of the magazine, starting in 1991 when they published two poems that I wrote as a sixteen-year-old angst-ridden word-happy big-dreaming high school student. That kind of encouragement makes a huge difference in a developing writer’s life, let me tell you. It was the beginning of a long relationship. And their winter 2012 issue, freshly mailed and on its way to bookstores, includes a chapter from The Juliet Stories. Here is your chance to get a sneak preview of the book, which won’t be available until March.
The New Quarterly has offered me a copy of this latest issue to give away on my blog. Now, I’m a newbie at giving things away, but I like the idea. Heck, I’ll throw in a copy of my first book Hair Hat for good measure. Why not.
(Speaking of giveaways, Goodreads is giving away ten advance reading copies of The Juliet Stories. And my husband has launched a website called “Help Make Carrie’s Book a Bestseller,” (hey, we can hope!), which will also be giving away prizes to participants. Consider joining.)
Aaaaand. Enough with the giveaways. To sum up: Prizes — The New Quarterly’s winter 2012 issue and a signed copy of Hair Hat. Comment below to enter. Deadline Friday, January 27th, noon.
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It’s Friday, the kids are home from school, the sun is shining, there is snow on the ground, and here I am. Wondering: will I write more of The Big Fat Juicy Belly Worm today? My kids are wondering too. AppleApple keeps asking for chapter four. Truth is, it’s been a scrambled week crammed with conversations and variety and plans and a whole lot of dashing thoughts and activities. Amidst the scramble I’ve yet to find a way to settle and sit and focus my mind and find words. But I still have all afternoon.
This is today’s happy post
My brother Los in his studio
Today was a good day. I want to remember that despite the grousing contained my previous post. Sometimes I need a grumble — just get it out of my system.
But today was a good day.
Today I recorded two new songs. And for the second song, I played the French horn. My brother just happened to have a horn sitting there in his studio (you can see the case on the couch behind him). A loan from a friend’s parents. It’s a nice horn, too, a double horn in good working condition. I haven’t played horn since I was 18. That was, oh, awhile ago. Could I still make it make music? Well, yes and no. I’m no professional musician and never was. But the fingering came right back and I was playing a scale before I knew it. It didn’t sound half bad.
I was fooling around on the horn while Karl (“Los” is his nickname) was playing back my piano for the second song, and the horn was well-suited to the key I’d used, so I started playing along. Then we thought we’d record a bit and see if any could be used. So that was really fun. Really out of the ordinary. A treat. Music is sweet.
Also sweet: it looks like two or three of these songs are going to be made available on The Juliet Stories e-book, or as part of the e-book purchase. But that means we’ve got a deadline. Hence, today’s studio session, smack-dab in the middle of a whirling snowstorm.