Happy Holidays!

Merry Christmas everybody! And please don't despair, I haven't stopped, merely ran out of time getting ready for the main event! Note to all: don't attempt to decorate anything in the run up to a major holiday! However, the curtains are all finished and hanging, the dining room has been decorated, and the new blinds arrived before our guests did - perfect!

So, enjoy the 'holidays' and i will catch you up with all the goings on after I have finished digesting the turkey.

The Beaver Mystery

Finn had spent the afternoon playing at Jack's house. On the way home we had the following conversation.


"Mum, what's a beaver?"
"It's a large rodent that lives in the water, builds dams, gnaws down trees, you know...."
"Not that kind. A different beaver."
"A different beaver? No, don't know what that is."
"You do, Mummy. The human kind."
"Pardon?"
"The kind that humans have...."


At this point, the hackles on my neck started to rise - surely Jack's big sisters are not big enough to start corrupting my son? I turned the radio off.


"Whose been telling you this?"
"You, Mummy."
"I told you about the kind of beaver that humans have?"
"The beaver that humans get, you know, we bought something."
"We bought something for the kind of beaver that humans get? Where did we buy it?"
"At Wegman's."






Panic over and suspecting a mis-understanding, I pulled out the deerstalker and magnifying glass.


"Is it something to eat?"
"Yes. It's something to get rid of beavers. You bought it for me."
"I see. And have you eaten it already?"
"No. Not yet."
"Can you remember what it looks like?"
"No."
"is it still at home?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"In the cupboard with the medicine."


And the penny drops.


When I had stopped howling with laughter.....


"Finn, did you mean we bought something to get rid of 'FEVERS'?

There was a lawn here somewhere....

  

What were they thinking?

I innocently bought some bendy straws for the children the other day. I'm not sure they are all entirely suitable.

Oh, to be a Chunker!

If you've never heard of it before, it's sure time you checked out the world of pumpkin throwing. No, really, you should. To be fair, there's a little more to it  than just chucking pumpkins hither and thither. The idea is that you build a machine that chucks pumpkins. And they sure do chuck 'em, these machines. In the Air category, the World Record (yes, along with the Baseball World Series, the Americans have safely made sure they remain 'world champions' in another sport that no-one else plays), stands at over 4000 feet. Woo-hoo throw that pumpkin, baby!

It would appear that Punkin Chunkin was all started 26 years ago by a bloke who was a little bit bored so got together with some mates to build a Trebuchet -type device in his empty corn field and chucked a couple of pumpkins. Then, before you know it, 25 years later Mythbusters make a TV show about it and tens of thousands of people turn up to watch. These days there are 13 categories of machines and the mini-festie takes place over 3 days. This year, we went AND IT WAS AWESOME, DUDE!

Notice dude on bike - pedal power!

No-one could see how this one worked

We arrived for the final day of the Chunkin' and it was clear that there had been some serious fun had the night before - the empties littering the floor were numerous, to say the least, and there were even a couple of 'left over' cars in the as yet unfilled section of the car park. The Adult Human Power category was chunkin' as we arrived and we were soon caught up in the heckling and cheering going on behind each contraption. It was very exciting, with loud announcements of "Fire in the Hole" and "Eyes to the Skies" before each team fired their pumpkin. Some hurtled through the air with ease and grace, as much grace as a pumpkin can muster anyway, while others burst into tiny pieces upon launch and others still simply refused.



Forgive the 'tude - a matter of timing only.



We watched, we cheered, we ooh'ed and aaah'ed, and then Finn got bored and it was off to the concession stands. Of which there were plenty. I was in my element and managed to continue my quest to sample American carnival food in all its stomach turning glory. Having started with a simple yet utterly delicious pulled pork sandwich, I moved onto my most treasured find yet: Chocolate covered Cheesecake on a Stick. I know! Then, because they smelt so good and looked so revolting, a Funnell Cake. Sadly, no photographic proof of this one, but numny, numny. numny! as Meg would say. Picture, if you will, doughnut batter trickled into the fryer so it globulates into a bird's nest of oil-soaked deliciousness, about the size of a paper dinner plate. Scoop it out of the fat and straight into a tub of icing sugar, then slather it in apple pie filling and serve piping hot. Double numny.

Then it was back for some more chunkin'. Sadly, however there was a delay as one of the brave folk who hotfoot it after the flying pumpkins to measure their distance travelled, had overturned his ATV and was being CASEVACed to the nearest Emergency room. Heaven only knows where that was as this pumpkin fest goes on in the back end of nowhere in deepest, darkest Delaware, but our best wishes went with him.

When it was decided that the show would indeed go on, the Air category got underway. Now, these machines are impressive: absolutely gi-bungous and the product of some seriously clever designs and incredible amounts of hard work, not to mention dollars, invested. Their pumpkins are propelled by compressed air through immensely long barrels over vast distances. They make a substantial noise when fired, which managed to frighten me every time, but shoot the pumpkins out so fast that it is impossible to follow the trajectory of said missile. If it were not for the impressively fast feedback over the PA of the unofficial result of each shot, I fear this category would make a disappointing spectator sport.

Finn got itchy feet again, so off we traipsed for some more exploring. Along the way we discovered the Miss Punkin' Chunkin' pageant, two very impressive bands and the fact that the stalls selling official merchandise had RUN OUT. I kinda got the feeling that this event has grown a little faster than organisers anticipated; running out of official merchandise cannot be good for fund raising, surely. They certainly didn't make anything from us and we were in the market for T-shirts and an engraved tankard (they were nicer than they sound, honest!). All is not lost as T-shirts can still be bought online - phew! - but dreams of the tankard have to be let go, sorry Jodi.

We had fun. We will definitely go back and experience some more of these true-blue, red-neck-tastic shenanigans. We will again break out our flannel shirts and camouflage jackets, grow ZZ-Top beards and pull a cooler full of beer on a dolly. (This was a fab idea tho, as the cooler doubled as a step for seeing over crowds).

When I asked Finn if he had a good time, he replied, "Yes, I did. Except for all the standing about, watching them throw pumpkins."

Getting involved

A favourite

...and falling....

It's just a question of style

We have no curtains. It turns out that the tenant, repeat: tenant, who lived here deemed it his right to sell all the existing window dressings and rods when he moved out. Thus, naked windows.
I have  been investigating the world of custom made curtains, or drapes depending on where you come from, and have chanced upon a delightful little firm in Manlius who are just as keen as anything to do business with 'someone who has such exquisite taste'. That's me, by the way; exquisite. So exquisite is my taste that when we received the quote from the 'designer' it turned out that i had chosen fabric from the top of the very top end of fabric manufacturers.
If we go with her quote, it would cost us almost the same amount to curtain the kitchen, dining room and sun room as it would to REPLACE ALL THE WINDOWS DOWNSTAIRS.
Now there's something to think about.

From Polliwog to Guppy

Clever old Finn! No longer deemed a Polliwog, he is about to enter the uber-impressive world of the Guppy. Confused? Everybody is. Including, it would seem, the people who book children in for their swimming lessons, for it is those of which we speak: swimming lessons.

When we first joined the Community Centre, we joined Preschool Level something-hopeless, which soon proved unsuitable for my boy and he was soon moved to Preschool Level something-more-appropriate. Then the Community Centre was no more. Alas! Not really, it is still here but is now the YMCA, yes Brits, just like in the snigger-inducing song. Now we no longer have  'Levels' into which our children are entered, they are now launched headlong into the truly more aquatic sounding groups of Eels, Polliwogs. Guppies and the suchlike, all far less confusing. Or is it? For indeed, who can tell at a single glance whether a Polliwog precedes an Eel or otherwise? Does a Guppy out swim a Minnow or not? Who knows? No one. And that, friends, is the problem. No one knows. And it is with much consulting of notes and phone calls to the Aquatic Director that the answers are sought. And sometimes even found.

Anyway. The swim lessons have just come to the end of their 6 week block, and Finn has been passed! He has left the world of the Polliwog behind and will now be swimming with the Guppies, which answers one of my questions at least. Good Job Finnster.

But there is a slight hitch, as ever. Because, you see, in order to be a Guppy, you have to be 5. 'Coz that's how old Guppies are. Finn on the other hand......... Tomorrow I have to seek out the aforementioned Director of Aquatics and ask her permission for Finn to be promoted to the next group (shoal?) To be fair, she let him become a Polliwog before the prescribed age, but who knows how it will turn out this time. Will Finn have to cool his heels with the Polliwogs for another 6 months or will he be released into the deep blue yonder?

I'll keep you posted.

If you don't ask...



She was aiming for subtle but didn't feel she'd quite got it right.....



I popped into Endurance Monster, Skaneateles' new triathlon gear shop on Friday to have a butchers at their Fall running gear. Having selected a very attractive pair of fleece lined tights and a super warm dayglo-green long sleeved top (with hobo cuffs, a fashion must-have this season) I was ready to face the music at the cash register. I handed over my card and, bold as brass, I reassured the chap that it would be OK to give me a discount as it was my birthday (it actually was so no lying involved). When he stopped laughing, he handed me the slip to sign, and lo and behold, had knocked 10% off the total. It just goes to show, doesn't it? People, they're great.


To add to the Monster's utter greatness, these fab folks ran a series of mini-tris over the summer to help us poor deluded people train for the big event, and are now holding a series of runs and bike rides to keep us dellusionists in fine fettle over the winter. I am planning on running in the Monster Mash, a four mile race at the end of this month, and Finn may even try out the Monster Mash Dash, a short race for the kiddies. The money raised from these events will be donated to charity every year, going this year to the PARCS Playground Building Fund in memory of little Cameron Kenan who lost his life in the lake in July.

Good work, Monsters.

Mummy and Daddy by Finn

Falling........





It's that time of year again. The beautiful one. Or the beautifuller one, depending on your point of view. The leaves are changing, there are pumpkins everywhere and the thermostat is dipping and rising fit to give any Mother a headache trying to decide what the little ones should be wearing.

 

Finn is playing Soccer this Fall. (Not to be confused with football, please.) He has taken to it like a kid who has never so much as caught a glimpse of the game before, and is clambering up yet another impossibly steep learning curve with aplomb. Bless him. He hasn't as yet complained about being cold at practice, despite his Mother turning him out in shorts every week, rain or not, and has been given his first proper talking to by the coach for pushing another player. She wasn't on the ball but she was on the other team (and yes, she was a she!).

He is back at pre-school for five afternoons a week this year and, after being disappointed that many of his friends have moved up to kinder garden, is busy making new ones. He is having a go at learning to read. I'll let you know who tires of that game first!

 

Meg is walking and (having a go at) talking. She is starting to replace some of her signs with words and noises but still finds that smiling at people is generally enough. She's very cute and still quite tiny, so smiling in her special girly way works wonders with most. Failing that, shouting or pinching her brother gets the message across.

 

 As lovely as these things are, they are a reflection of the passage of time, which can mean only one thing.

Winter is coming. Be very afraid.

Too long, already!

As Finn and his sister were engaging in a pyjamed romp post-bath last night, I overheard him say these exact words:

"Get your butt out of my face! Hey Meg, enough with the butt already!"

Anybody else think we've been here too long, already?

Some details for the interested......

A Sprint distance Triathlon is the shortest of the recognised events.

It involves the three disciplines of swimming, biking and running in that order.

The time taken to change kit in between disciplines is included in your total time taken.

These are called Transitions, abbreviated to T1 and T2.

My race was made up of: 800 metre (1/2 mile) open water swim  22.5 kms (14 miles) bike, and a 5 km (3.1 mile) run.

My timings in minutes and seconds were:

Swim: 15:32
T1: 01:54

Bike: 47:56
T2: 01:05

Run: 25:35

Total: 1:32:02

TRI-tastic, baby!

 

I am a Tri-athlete.


I can say that now. I completed a sprint distance triathlon on September 3rd 2011. And to my surprise, very little had changed with the world when I got up on Sunday morning. The very fact that the world was still turning was surprise enough for me. I had been so focused on the race that I hadn't imagined any time after. So it was quite a relief really, the sun coming up and all.


And now I can't wait until next year!


BRING IT ON!


Needless to point out, I loved it! Every minute of it. Even those minutes when my legs hurt so much in the run that I could hardly breathe. It was awesome. And having my support crew on hand to cheer me through each transition and over the finish line made it even more awesome. Perfect, in fact.

Before the race was a different story. For a couple of weeks I had been having serious trouble NOT thinking about the TRI. Anxiety dreams abounded and I was convinced a flat tyre was going to ruin my chances of finishing. Just thinking about swimming in the lake made me breathless with fear and my speedwork got worse and worse. I tweaked my Achilles tendon so had to stop running completely for a crucial week.

But, I tried to remind myself on Saturday morning, I had been working towards the race for a long time. Yup, I started swimming, biking and running in January. And I had been amazed at how disastrously unfit I was. I could barely swim a length of the pool (all 25 metres of it) and biking 14 miles was well beyond reach. So I worked hard for what seemed like a very long time. When I got lost as to how to proceed I bought a book with a training plan and followed it religiously, training 6 mornings a week, plus a session with my personal trainer. All my training was done before the children got up until I reached a point when I realised that my being ready for bed by 11.00am every day was compromising our lives a little too much. Thank goodness for Nana and Pops, and Grandma and Grandpa, our house guests over the summer who were able to watch the children for me while I trained so I could give up some early morning starts. And a huge thank you to my Dad who traipsed down to the lake with me at 6.30am a couple of mornings a week to watch me swim up and down and finally get used to swimming in the lake, in a wetsuit, in some serious chop. I learned how to ride my new bike more effectively (still some work to do there though...) and started to remember what it feels like to run, struggle free.

So, on race day, I had no reason to panic. I told myself that I had to make this count, that this was the very last time I would HAVE to do any of the three triathlon disciplines. If that was what I wanted. If I didn't get bitten by the bug at least I would be able to say I finished a race and tried my hardest.

I went out full of trepidation but managed to come back with a smile. I'd had no idea how I was doing until I crossed the finish line and saw the clock: 1 hour 38 minutes 02 seconds. Wow, I thought, amazing, I finished quicker than I could ever have imagined. Well done!

But........

The swim started out in waves, 3 minutes apart and I was in wave 3 so that means.......an adjusted finish time of 1 hour 32 minutes 02 seconds. The 5th fastest finisher in my age group. Oh my.

So, kids, apologies in advance, but come January, Mummy might just start heading for the pool in the wee small hours all over again......