Garden Blooms

The lavendar is blooming, and the coreopsus are just awakening. The green on the right are day lillies, and the green behind the coreopsus is a combination of bell flower (campanula) and balloon flower (platycodon).
This picture makes it look like we have a huge yard. What isn't obvious is the road that runs between our yard and the large trees and our neighbor's houses just out of frame to the left and right.

Closeup of the English lavendar.

The coreopsus with the lavendar behind. The pale stems between them are Russian sage which is not yet blooming.

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PhotoHunters: Sweet

Local strawberries from a small market near our house. They smell as good as they look and taste even better.

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Thursday Challenge: Weather

Hot, sticky weather is making me wish for snow.

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Moody Monday: Horny

Rhino statue at the San Diego Wild Animal Park

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PhotoHunters: Shiny

Polar Bear Statue at the San Diego Zoo

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PTO Paddle

I took yesterday and today off from work (PTO paid time off). I spent yesterday loafing and doing a little work in the woodshop (first step of finishing the foot stools), and I finished up the day umpiring a fast-pitch softball game - very one sided, not a lot of fun to umpire.

Today after going to an 8am doctor's appointment I loafed some more, worked in the wood shop for a couple of hours (finishing the nightlight and working on a jig). And then it was time to hit the river, Charles that is.

I put in at the Elm Bank Reservation in Wellesley. This was the first tryout for the kayak trailer I got for Christmas. The trailer has a cradle for the back end of the boat and two straps one which secures the back. The other strap runs through a large hook. The hook is hooked to the cockpit and the straps are tightened to secure it. It works like a dream and makes moving the kayak more than a couple of feet a lot easier.

I put in under a large tree at the edge of the river. This put in is quite steep. My everlasting thanks to the woman, there playing with her dogs, who pointed out the gradual sloped launch site 20 feet away.

From there I headed upriver toward the dam in South Natick. I haven't paddled much of this stretch before. Like much of the Charles it is a mellow stretch of water that winds past park land (Elm Bank) and houses. Many of the houses had canoes resting by the water. And one had a great tree house right at the edge of the river. I got as close as I could to the dam. I had to turn around not because of the current, but because the water was too shallow. I did get within about 50 feet of the dam. Then it was back down river. Because I had time I continued about a mile or so beyond Elm Bank before I headed back to the car.

As I paddled my mind wandered around a bit. I composed haiku in my head, or I should say part of a haiku. I've got the first two lines. I thought about what to write about the paddle. I thought about the last time I paddled part of this stretch back in November. And I thought about things I've forgotten.

Total paddle time: 1 hour 45 minutes. Total distance ~ 3 1/2 miles. Turtle sightings - 1; heron sightings - 2; goose sightings - too many to count; plastic dog sightings - 3 (designed to counteract goose sightings). Human sightings were few - the woman with the dogs, 2 little boys who'd been fishing and their grandmother (I think), 2 couples reading in the sun, one adult rollerblader, two women on horseback, and two other kayakers.

Take a careful look at the picture below. Do you see the fish?


The other kayakers were not wearing life vests, and based on a short conversation I had with them were not clear on which direction was upriver and which was down. While the Charles, particularly in this section, is a fairly easy paddle I still don't think it's smart to paddle without life vests; and it's always smart to know where you're paddling.

A note on my own paddling practices. I do frequently paddle alone. When I do I always let Amy know where I'm putting in, where I'm planning to paddle and how long I expect to be gone and I call her when I'm out of the river. I also leave a note in the car with the time I'm putting in, the expected return and where I'm going. I always wear my life vest, which has an emergency whistle attached to it, and I always have identification (in the form of my medic alert bracelet) with me. I also do my homework. Before I try a new route I check guidebooks and maps so I know what to expect.

PhotoHunters: Hair

I wasn't happy about the haircut I'd just had.

Fifth grade - I was happier about this haircut.

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I scanned these but they were taken by my mother.
I'm a little early with this, but we're going away for the weekend.

Rejoicing in Massachusetts

I didn't hold a sign,
I didn't chant slogans,
I wasn't in the crowd.

I did release a sigh of relief,
I did call my wife,
I did smile broadly.

Three years ago I said I do,
Three years she said I do,
Three years as wife and wife.

Voting on rights is wrong,
the legislature agrees,
Our marriage will not be challenged.

At this point it's really not news, but today the Massachusetts legislature voted down a proposed ballot question that would have put the question of whether same-sex marriage should be legal on the ballot in 2008. I'm not naive enough to think the battle is over. The battle will continue both here and across the country. The haters will still hate. But for today it's time to rejoice because love has won out.

LensDay: Sports

I couldn't resist sharing one more Wellesley Softball picture.

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Paddle Season Begins

I finally got my kayak into the water Sunday afternoon. I can't believe I waited this long!

Sunday was a hot steamy day with crisp clear blue skies. In short the perfect day to put paddle to water.

Since this was the first outing I chose a familiar stretch of the Charles for my trip. I put in just off route 30 near route 128 in Newton. (For those who know the area the put in is across the river from the Charles River Canoe & Kayak rental shop. From there I headed upriver towards Weston and Wellesley.

Moving upriver on this section of the river you first make your way under route 30, then the turnpike before entering a quieter stretch that passes by Riverside Park. Next up are the route 128 bridges, before passing through the relative quiet of the Leo J. Martin golf course.

This is not the most remote section of the river, and even late on a Sunday afternoon there was quite a bit of company on the river. I'd expected that since the rental shop does a pretty brisk business and it was such a gorgeous day. Once I got to the golf course I was basically alone. I explored a little further than I ever have before, going well beyond the golf cart bridge.

As is typical when I get out on the river, I didn't want to turn around. I have a watch that hangs on my life vest, and before I put in I decide how long I can paddle. But as I get near and beyond the time to turn around I'm forever making deals with myself - "I'll turn around when I get to that big tree" or "I really need to turn around at that rock". It's a lot easier when there is a natural impediment to continuing - a dam, low water level or the like. Responsibility did win out and I turned around and headed back downriver.

It's always fun to begin a trip heading upriver and end it heading downriver. By approaching a trip that way the end of the trip is an easier paddle. The river is high enough, and I was close enough to a water fall that the current was fairly strong and pushed me back downriver.

All in all it was an auspicious, if late, beginning to the paddle season.

Sunday Scribblings: Spicy

I'm wrote most of this while sitting under a tree on the campus of the college from which I graduated. As I sat there enjoying the bright sunny day, I was thinking about the chapel service this morning. It's reunion weekend and since the class I graduated with is back I stopped by for a couple of events including chapel. (I took a year off halfway through college and usually attend reunion with the class with which I started. But it's a *big* reunion, and I only live a couple of miles away...)

The college I attended was a fairly white bread place when I was there. There were students of color and international students but they didn't make up a very large percentage of the student body. Similarly the chapel services were decidedly Protestant.

I didn't attend very many chapel services as a student, but as a member of the college choir attendance was mandatory at a few every year. Those services had a comforting similarity to the Presbyterian and Congregationalist services I had attended (sporadically) before college. The order of service, the hymnal, the prayers all were familiar.

Partway through my college life the college hired a new chaplain who was decidedly feminist. I have fond memories of our choir director, an older man with roots in the Episcopalian church, complaining because this new chaplain was insisting that the wording of the hymns being sung have the wording changed to reflect here feminist bent. There is a certain absurdity to his annoyance given that I attended a women's college. Our director was a dear sweet man who just didn't want his beloved hymns messed with.

Things have changed quite a bit since then. The student body is decidedly more ethnically diverse and formerly marginalized communities are an integral part of the campus. The religious life of the college has changed as well. A number of years ago a new chaplain was brought in and charged with developing ways to embrace the religious diversity on the campus. The chaplain embraced this challenge with an evangelical passion. College wide chapel services now incorporate elements of a wide range of religions.

As I sat under the tree earlier today it was the sounds of the service which were running through my mind. The low ringing of the bell which is the Buddhist call to worship; the chattering of birds outside the open door, the lilt of a Hindu prayer, the blending of women's voices as they sang a round in Hebrew, the words of the Koran, and the more familiar words of the Protestant and Catholic traditions.

After the horrid attacks of September 11, 2001 the college scheduled a special all college chapel service. At a time when the unfamiliar was cause for anxiety, this service provided healing in sharing the range of religious observance. I particularly remember the end of the service when we were directed to the lawn outside the chapel. Once gathered in a circle there we shared a native American prayer. It was one more element toward bringing understanding about how our differences can enrich us.

Where the services of my college life were white bread, the services now are a lovely spicy stew and everyone who is fortunate enough to attend one is enriched.

This week's prompt at Sunday Scribblings is spicy. You can see more here. And thanks to Shelley for inspiration on this one.

Anniversaries

I love being able to introduce Amy as "my wife". It's only a word, but it holds a lot of power. Introducing the person you share your life with as "my partner" frequently results in a follow-up question of "Oh, you work together?" Followed by the now necessary explanation that no you don't work together (although we do which is a story for another day) but rather that you live together as life partners. When you introduce the same person as "my wife" you may get some interesting double-takes, and occasionally lengthy pauses while the person on the other side of the conversation processes the information and realigns their world view, but there is recognition and understanding. The word wife fits into a classification category in our society and brings common understanding.

Amy and I celebrated our third anniversary yesterday. Well actually we didn't so much celebrate as acknowledge that it was in fact our third anniversary. Why, you may ask, was this not an occasion for great rejoicing and leather (the traditional third anniversary gift)? This is one of three anniversaries we have. Yes, three.

Anniversary number one is the date we have celebrated for 24 years. It's in February and is the important anniversary.

Anniversary number two is the legal wedding date, yesterday. It's the day when we gathered with a couple of friends, my aunt and a justice-of-the-peace in our living room to make it legal.

Anniversary number three is the date of our "re-wedding" in October. That's the day when our friends and family gathered to celebrate our wedding. Vows, flowers, photographer (If you're in the greater Boston area and need a really good wedding photographer let me know and I'll pass on her contact info.), cake, and a bar tender who was only too happy to keep one ear on the first game of the 2004 World Series and relay the scores to the friends and family who gave up the opportunity to spend the night screaming at the tv to be with us. We do have one friend who had to leave early to get back to her job in the Red Sox ticket office (thanks Sarah!).

The legal wedding happened because I panicked. There is an image burned into my memory from the coverage of San Francisco's foray into issuing marriage licenses to same-sex couples. It is of a slightly older woman standing in the hall after being informed that the state had stepped in to halt the issuing of licenses. She looks devasted, but rather than the string of profanities which might have issued from my mouth, all she is saying is "Oh darn, .. darn, darn, darn." I didn't want to be that woman, I didn't want to miss the opportunity to be Amy's wife.

Amy would have been happy to wait. She didn't feel the same urgency that I did. But she does love me. So we found a JP, called two of our closest friends, called my parents (who wanted to be there but couldn't rearrange previous obligations, and my aunt. The day before the wedding we prepared the entree for the wedding feast (greek meatballs), made cupcakes, and made sure the living room was presentable. Tuesday, June 8th rolled around and we headed to work. Yup, that's right we worked the day of our wedding. We left work early. We'd planned what to wear, but a sudden heat wave, 98º that day, changed those plans. But we did dress up.

We didn't have bouquets but we did have flowers. Amy had picked out some - to make sure we had flowers at our wedding. My parents sent a gorgeous bouquet of cream colored roses. Our friend Karen brought red roses, and my aunt bought a beautifully colorful mixed bouquet.

Karen was the first to arrive and we put her to work as photographer. We took a couple of pictures of the two of us using the neighbors yard as backdrop. She also took pictures throughout the ceremony and during the celebration afterwards.

Our friend Katy, not to be confused with my aunt Katie, brought her children R and A. Katy and R were dressed for the weather in simple dresses. A, however, had insisted on wearing his tuxedo complete with bow tie and cummerbund. (We'd even gotten email earlier in the week asking which bowtie he should wear - we chose the purple one.) I thought the poor kid was going to melt. He stayed in full regalia until we started dinner.

The ceremony was uneventful. There was some levity when Karen made us kiss a second time because she'd missed the first. It was sort of surreal to be saying those words. It didn't sink in until later that it was real.

We popped open a bottle of champagne, took some more pictures - including one that R took for our college alumnae magazine (all of the adults except the JP went to the same college), and had a great dinner. The next day we went to work. We hadn't told anyone there that we were getting married, but word got out and we received lots of warm wishes. We sent out announcements. And then life went on much as it had.

Being married hasn't changed the day-to-day of our life, although it has complicated our taxes (The feds don't recognize the marriage. The state return uses numbers from the federal return. We have to file state as married and federal as single. So we complete three federal returns - two (one each) to mail along with a letter explaining why we are submitting a return that says we're single when we're married and one to get the numbers for the state return.) What being married has done is given us a great sense of security. We have a license that gives us legal status in each other's lives. We don't have to rely on luck and geography to live our lives.

So we didn't celebrate our anniversary yesterday. But we celebrate being married everyday.

And finally, one more anniversary to make note of. Today is my parent's 51st anniversary. Their idea of celebration - watching the Yankee's win and babysitting my nephew so his parents can go to tomorrow's Yankees game.

Softball Season

The third week of the softball season ended yesterday. So far it's been a good year and every indication is that it's going to continue.

Once again this year we have scheduling issues, for which I have no responsibility. The athletic department (this league is a community league at the university with which my place of employment is associated) is planning to resod 4 of the 10 fields so those aren't available until early July. They have let us use the outfield of the baseball diamond. We have 73 teams in 13 divisions so this presented a challenge for the schedulers. Extending the season and scheduling double-headers solved this.

Our fields are with one exception not designed to be softball fields. We do use the intercollegiate softball field, but the other fields are just open grass. We do use one soccer/field hockey/frisbee/lacrosse field which is covered with what is essentially carpet - fake grass without blades. We use rubber bases which the umpires set out before the game and pick up after the game. Most nights we have games going on at least 4 fields at once. When the season really gets going we'll have 7 games going at once.

I've umpired one fast-pitch and on slow-pitch game, and played 2 slow-pitch games so far. The umpiring is going really well this year. I attribute that to all the softball I watched in March, April and May. Of course the fact that I've been doing this for 8 years might have something to do with it. I hadn't planned to umpire the slow-pitch game I did on Thursday but one of my umpires (I am the umpire-in-chief fo the league) called with a work conflict too late to get a sub.

My softball stuff is all in residence in my car so I grabbed the couple of things I needed and headed for the field. I did rearrange that night's umpires so I could do the game on the softball diamond, which has permanent bases so I didn't have to lug bases. Game time is 5:30. I had woodworking class at 7 so I let the captains (no coaches in our league) know that I was going to keep the game moving. An hour and 5 minutes later the 7 inning game was done, and I was headed to class. It was a relatively low scoring game (12 -7) and the teams did their best not to waste time. I was only 15 minutes late for class, which isn't an issue since it's an open shop class.

Our team is now 3-0. I've only played in two of the games. I missed last week because Amy had a concert. I'm playing second (no kneeling, not much running). I've only been involved in a couple of plays. First game I took a throw from short for a force out - and almost got taken out by the runner. Last night I fielded a ground ball cleanly and flipped it to the shortstop for the force. In the first game I walked twice and grounded out once. Last night I grounded out to the pitcher and hit a deep grounder to the shortstop. My courtesy runner beat out the throw on the second and came around to score later in the inning.

We're off to a good start, and I can't wait for more.

Literary Meme

While looking at other entries for Thursday Challenge I came across this on the Brew*Crew's blog. Usually I don't invite myself to play along with things like this, but this was quick so I decided to see what it would unearth.

The rules are:

• grab the book closest to you
• open it to page 161
• find the fifth full sentence
• post the text of the sentence to your blog
• don't search around for the coolest book you have, use the one that is really next to you.

I'm at work, and I've got lots of manuals around but the closest book is the mystery I'm reading. The fifth full sentence on page 161:

"I don't remember what being forty looks like," Judith admitted.

Just for the record, I do remember what being forty looks like.

Thursday Challenge: Texture

What do you think this is?

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One Deep Breath: Architecture

lines intersecting
instruction for construction
vision of new space

More haiku at One Deep Breath.

LensDay: Pink

Pink umbrella.

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Woodworking Project Completed

I couldn't resist posting this here, you can find details on my woodworking blog. I finished this Thursday night. We haven't figured out, yet, where it'll live.

Sunday Scribblings: Town or Country

Each summer as the highway fades in the rear view mirror as we head into the mountains I relax. Certainly the fact that exiting the highway represents the beginning of two weeks of swimming, kayaking, reading, puzzles and relaxing has a lot to do with it. But it is also that our place in the mountains feels like home.

Our cabin in the woods is less than 70 miles, by road from where I was born. My family didn't stay in that little town for long. By the time I was 4 we lived in a small city several hours southeast. But our place in the country holds an honored place in our family history, and it has a hold on me.

In my life I have lived in a small city, the suburbs, and in a small town. I am happiest where trees, and water are the views out my window. I have both of those things in my suburban home - trees in the woods behind the house and a pond just beyond our next door neighbor's back yard. The view from the cabin in the woods is of the trees that surround it and the lake just down the path.

While the view from my house is nearly perfect the sounds are not. We live within a mile of 2 major highways and can hear traffic sounds when they are not drowned out by lawnmowers. In our cabin in the woods the sounds are perfect. Loons call in the night, and the breeze rustles the leaves. The silence is broken occasionally by a power boat, but on this lake those are few and far between.

I am at heart a country girl. The lights and noise of the city don't appeal to me. The twinkling of the stars in the sky far from city lights is one of my favorite sites. I love to lie on the dock, or float in the lake, and look up at the stars, and it's even better when I can talk Amy into joining me.

The picture is me and my brother in the front yard of my family's house in the country.

More: Sunday Scribblings

Poetry Thursday: Rivers

River Haiku

river of knowledge
hereditary bequest
enriching my life


Charles River at Elm Bank in Wellesley

Ode to the Charles
meandering river
exploring towns along the way
trees bend as if to
dip a branch into the water
herons prowl the banks
in search of lunch
kayaker paddles your water
in search of exercise
turtle basks on rock
in search of warmth
reader sits on shore
in search of solitude
artist sits to sketch
in search of beauty
river flows on
in search of ocean

Charles River in Waltham

More Poetry Thursday
More river pictures in my flickr account

Thursday Challenge: Peaceful

Early morning at Wakanda.

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Sunday Scribblings: Simple

A little late to the party...

I'm in the midst of building a table for a woodworking challenge (details here). The deadline is Thursday. As per usual I'm going to be cutting it close (no pun intended). My goal for the weekend is to complete the construction of the table so I'll have time to put finish on it before I have to post pictures of the completed table.

On the to-do list were:

• dovetailing the drawer parts
• adding dadoes to the stretcher for the shelf
• finishing the jig I designed to cut plugs with
• adding dadoes to the sides of the drawer
• attaching the drawer front
• easing all the edges (rounding over or chamfering the edges so they aren't sharp)

I figured the dovetails would be simple. Several years ago I purchased a dovetail jig. I figured that having a jig would make cutting dovetails easier. I'd pulled out the jig earlier in the week and though the instructions were somewhat lacking it looked simple enough.

When I cut the drawer parts I made a bunch of extra pieces so I would have test pieces with which to set the jig up. Six hours later I had a lot of sawdust, and a pile of much smaller test pieces. What I didn't have was a completed drawer. I just couldn't get a precise enough fit using the jig.

After much deliberation I decided to cut my losses and put the skills I have to work. You see last year in a workshop class at the North Bennett Street School I learned to cut dovetails by hand. I haven't mastered them yet, but I can make a pretty serviceable dovetail. I considered other joints, but dovetails are what I wanted. So I pulled out the drawer parts and started marking out the dovetails. After 4 hours (last night and today) of hand sawing and chisel work I had completed the drawer joints.

Here's one corner. A nice simple dovetail.

The moral of the story - don't overcomplicate situations. Keep it simple.

More Sunday Scribblings.

My woodworking blog.

Shutterday: Moon

Looking up in the Great Hall at the Wild Center (aka Natural History Museum of the Adirondacks). The image on the ceiling cycles from sunrise to moonrise and back.

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PhotoHunters: Colorful

Skylight at Xcaret a park in the Yucatan of Mexico.
The butterflies pictured represent the species which you can interact with in the nearby butterfly house. Directly below the skylight is the underground river, which you can swim/float through. This was taken from the balcony. This shot was taken during our honeymoon in 2004.

Click on the picture for a larger version.
More PhotoHunters here.

PhotoFriday: Futuristic

The Stata Center at MIT designed by Frank Gehry.
This photo is a couple of years old, there is _definitely_ no snow there now (it was 92+ today).

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My Oak Forest

The squirrels were clearly busy last fall, planting acorns in our yard. I pulled about twenty little tiny oak trees last night. There are still plenty for anyone who'd like to join in the fun.

Poetry Thursday: Conversation

#1
It’s hard to talk to you
makes my heart ache
and my eyes fill with tears.

I’ve imagined you countless times
the feel of your hand in mine
the sound of your laughter

I’m sorry we never got to meet
never got to know each other
never got to explore the world together

We meant to, later
After we’d had time to settle
But time was not on our side

So I sit and imagine who you would have been
And who I would have been
And try not to have conversations that bring tears to my eyes.


#2
Skunk cabbage is not a good snack.
I’ve never eaten it,
but once when we lived in the big brown house
next to the deep gully
some bullies made your mom eat it.

Usually the gully was a fun place to be,
full of trees and rocks,
and unexplored possibility.

The gully could be a deep dark jungle,
or a planet far away in the galaxy.
You could hide in the gully,
Behind a tree, under a branch,
where no one could find you,
until you wanted to be found.

But always up on the hill
was the big brown house,
the one your grandmother loved,
and still loves.

In the big brown house was
warmth, and love,
cookies and hugs,
all just waiting for you
when the adventure was over.

For more Poetry Thursday conversations go here.

PhotoSharks: Silver

fish tail outside sea food restaurant

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Wednesday Morning Poetry

For unknown reasons on the way into work this morning, poetry kept popping into my head. I even had to pull over to write some of it down. These are almost haiku, but they don't fit the syllable patterns.

looking at his lawn
grass surrounding ankles
neighbor stands forlorn

********************************

morning commute
river beckons
eager for paddles dip

One Deep Breath: Viewpoint

Wabasha Street Bridge, St Paul, Minnesota

Pausing on the bridge
water glows in setting sun
signaling night fall

This week's prompt at One Deep Breath is to take a "position of observation" and share what you see from your own unique viewpoint. It was hard to pick one picture to write about. This picture was taken in November 2006.

Looking Out

Looking out the window at my office. It was a gorgeous day, and the colors of this city scape appealed to me.

Larger view here.

Sunday Scribblings: Masks

Many years ago I worked at an art college. Each year the entering students were given an assignment to create a spirit mask and bring it with them to orientation. The mask had several purposes - it was an opportunity for the entering students to show their artistic talents and to reveal a bit of themselves.

The primary means of feedback from faculty to students in the college was through critiques. At various points in the course of the year the students would present their work to their fellow students, their professors, and sometimes to visiting artists. In most departments the critique was an interactive process with the student there to explain the techniques, and thought processes which went into their work. The spirit masks also provided the new students with their first taste of the critique process. In small groups the students presented their masks beginning the dialogue which would carry them through their college career and on into their life as artists.

Orientation ended with an exhibit of the spirit masks with a reception for the college community. It was always interesting to see the work of the incoming students and to try to figure out what they were trying to say with those masks. And I've wondered what those masks would look like at graduation time - what changes would be revealed.

I've never made a spirit mask, but because of my exposure to them during those years, I have thought about it. I don't easily reveal myself - I hesitate before "coming out" (although marriage has made that easier), I don't reveal my innermost thoughts. I worry too much about what others think of me. I wear a mask every day. What would I reveal if I made a spirit mask? How would I explain it? What would people think of me then?

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PhotoHunters: Cooking

One of the great pleasures of our summer vacations at Wakanda is having the time to bake bread. Several summers ago our pal, Kama (now an almost 16 year old) joined us for an afternoon of bread baking and board games.

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PhotoFriday: Large

This is Nipper, the RCA dog. He appears on the label of old RCA records, and on the top of this building in downtown Albany, New York. When I was a child I loved seeing him sitting up there. I hadn't been to that part of Albany in years until I attended a conference downtown last fall. When I realized that Nipper was just down the street I made a special trip to take some shots of him.

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Thursday Challenge: Movement

D making his getaway.

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PhotoSharks: Delicate

My garden last summer.

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Happy Mother's Day, Mommy

Me on my sister's first birthday which makes me not quite 3.

PhotoHunters: Five

There were many ways I could have gone with this prompt - numeral 5s from uniforms, or class banners (85 and 55), my 5 year old nephew (who would insist that he is in fact 5 3/4), and then I stumbled upon this picture. It's the same little boy - I think he was about 1 1/2 at the time. I don't know what he was saying although I can fast forward to now and here him saying "well actually" with just that expression on his face.

More: PhotoHunters

Sunday Scribbling: Second Chance

The Wellesley College softball team is playing in the NCAA Division III New England Regional tournament this weekend. They got off to a great start yesterday, blanking College Misericordia 8-0.

Today's match-up against the women from Tufts University was tougher. Wellesley's pitching was not as precise as in the last few games (two no-hitters and a one-hitter). And today the breaks weren't going Wellesley's way. Catcher Kara Wong got picked off second base and later in the game was thrown out at the plate trying to score the tying run. Tufts got help with two excellent plays from their right fielder - an over the head catch of a deep fly ball off the bat of Beej Grundlock, and a diving catch, the kind that makes the highlight reels on ESPN, on the next play.

It was an exciting, if disappointing game. As one of the players said after the game "losing sucks, but losing and having to study sucks more" (Wellesley finals start next week.)

What, I'm sure you're asking, does this have to do with second chances? Well, this tournament is a double-elimination tournament. What this means, is that to be eliminated a team has to lose twice. So, Wellesley has a second chance. They'll take on Keene State tomorrow. After all the work that has gone into getting here it is nice to know that all the teams get to play at least two games. And their family, friends, and random fans get to cheer them on a little longer.

I think this concept of double-elimination could be useful in other areas of life. I know I could use a second chance every now and then.

Update: Wellesley held off Keene State 2-1 in a game that started nearly 2 hours late because the previous game went to 11 innings. Beej Grundlock pitched a great game, and Jenna Harvey came in in the bottom of the 7th with the bases loaded and 1 out to save the win. Wellesley then took on Emerson in the nightcap (scheduled for 4pm the game started at 6:45). Wellesley's bats came alive and they won 5-1. Kara Wong had 2 - yes 2 - out of the park home runs, and took out a loud speaker with a foul ball.

Tomorrow (Sunday) Wellesley takes on Tufts at noon with the winner of that game facing Rhode Island College for the championship.

Sunday Update: Tufts eliminated Wellesley from the tournament 5-0. It was a sad way to end the season, but what a season it's been. Three cheers for the women in blue!!!

LensDay: Modern

Marriott Hotel & Marina, San Diego

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Haiku: Sleep

hotel sounds disturb
toss and turn, sleep elusive
my own bed calling





Inspired by One Deep Breath, and Monday night in a hotel.

See It Sunday: Red

Amy's well loved red sneakers.

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Sunday Scribblings: Ocean

When I was about 7 my parents gave my aunt, who lived in the heart of Kenmore Square in Boston, a couple of cots. My aunt was visiting my parents but the cots wouldn't fit in her VW bug so my mother loaded them into the back of our station wagon, and then loaded my sister, brother and I into the front and drove them to my aunt's house. I distinctly remember that this was explained to us as a quick trip - drop off the cots and head home.

We arrived in Boston in early evening to, as I remember it, the hubbub that is Kenmore Square when the Red Sox are playing at home. Since it was dinner time, the adults decided that we needed dinner. I don't remember what we ate or where. Just when I expected that we were about to be packed into the car for the ride home it was announced that it was too late for us to go home and we would have to stay the night.

This was quite a surprise, particularly since my aunt lived in a very small one bedroom apartment. But she did have those cots which were the reason for the trip. So the living room was lined with cots, and from some secret stash my mother produced pajamas for us all.

I don't remember much about the morning, but the overnight was not the last surprise. We loaded back into the car with my aunt and headed not home, but to Gloucester and the sea shore. We ended up at Good Harbor beach and from her secret stash my mother produced bathing suits and towels. Having grown up more than 100 miles from the nearest ocean beach, I'd never seen the ocean let alone put so much as a finger into it.

I was also deathly afraid of water (I realize that comes as a complete shock to anyone who knows me now). Wading was my limit. Even the best efforts of numerous swimming teachers, and the swim coach colleague of my father's, who wielded a heavy metal boat to try and coax my face into the water hadn't convinced me that swimming was a good thing. The swim coach used a heavy metal boat which he told me was Popeye's boat. He would drop the boat a little farther from shore each time in an effort to get me to put my face into the water. I became adept at contorting my body so I could pick the boat up without getting even my ear wet, but still would not put my face in.

When faced with the tumbling waves, the likes of which I had never seen before, I became enchanted. I didn't worry about getting knocked head over tea kettle by a wave, or about being dragged out to sea by the receding waves. No, for an afternoon I reveled in the beauty, and power of waves crashing on the shore. I leapt over waves, and let them break across my feet. I had to be dragged from the waves, lips blue with cold. For an afternoon I made peace with water.

It would be several more years before I made a permanent peace with water. I was ten when I learned to swim, but once I learned there was no stopping me. The only thing that kept me from a Life Saving certificate is that I am uncomfortable diving more than a couple of feet below the surface.

I don't spend much time in the ocean these days. I'd much rather spend my water time in fresh water. But I do remember that first ocean adventure. And to this day if I head for the Gloucester sea shore I end up at Good Harbor no matter where I intended to go and no matter how clear the directions. I don't usually get lost. I have a very good sense of direction. My psyche just insists that The Beach is Good Harbor.

More: Sunday Scribblings

It is entertaining to me that there is a pulse in the blogosphere which leads to similar prompts from a variety of meme sites. One Deep Breath's prompt this week was Sea and now Sunday Scribblings has served up Ocean. And the photo I picked in response to LensDay's Smooth prompt was of an ocean beach. Makes me wonder what we'll all be thinking about next.

Tanka: Sea

nestled in the sand
unaware of my presence
no secrets you tell
what adventures brought you here
beautiful ocean treasure

The prompt at One Deep Breath this week is sea. Despite living less than 20 miles from the ocean, I do not spend much time there. So, I had to dig into the pictures from my trip to California for inspiration. This shell was on the beach on Coronado Island. We left it where it lay.

See American Tanka for an explanation of the tanka.
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Thursday Challenge: Noisy

Action shot of an MBTA train.

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Lensday: Smooth

surf smoothed sand
Coronado Island, California

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Moody Monday: Light

The view from inside a small grotto at Xcaret in the Yucatan. Taken during our honeymoon.

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Sunday Scribblings: Wings

Sports have always been a part of my life. My father coached college football, and baseball so I attended my first game as an infant. Fall Saturdays during my childhood meant dressing up to go to Dad's games. Many winter nights were spent at hockey games. And spring meant baseball. I learned to score at a fairly young age, and served as bat girl for several of the teams my Dad coached.

The college I went to is not what I'd call sports crazy. As a women's college it doesn't have a football team for people to rally around, and attendance at sports events is usually limited to other athletes and families. When I was a student I attended only a couple sports events - the Head of the Charles (crew races) and one field hockey game. Oh, and a Harvard-Dartmouth football game, and the Harvard-Yale game my freshman year. The Harvard-Dartmouth game was mostly about the party after, and the Harvard-Yale game was with my mother, brother (a Yale student) and a couple of my cousins. My wife grew up in a family that didn't follow sports so we haven't spent a lot of time watching sports.

I have remained a great fan of softball and baseball. I umpire and coach during the summer. I'll watch softball on TV when it's there, and have spent many an hour watching the Little League world series.

The sports facilities at my alma mater are a whole lot better now than when I was there. Like many sports related events in my life I'm too old to have taken advantage of them although I do swim in the pool there regularly.

Several years ago Wellesley undertook the cleanup of a toxic waste dump at the edge of the campus. (The toxic waste was dumped by the factory which used to be on the site.) Once the cleanup was done the College converted some of the land to new sports fields. The rest is reclaimed wetlands. Among the new fields is a softball stadium which makes me drool every time I drive by, and I drive by frequently since I live nearby.

I've thought about going to a softball game there many times. Finally in March I took the leap and went to a game. And I got hooked. A friend asked recently what my connection was. I don't think I would have been asked that if I'd gone to Penn State and the sport was football.

I've attended almost every home game since then (The picture above was taken just over a week ago at a game there.), and one away game - conveniently held at the university where I work. Which brings us to this weekend. With a pair of wins last weekend my college's softball team qualified for the playoffs for their athletic conference. They won their first and second games on Wednesday. The semi-finals were more than an hour away, but I couldn't stay away. So with Amy's blessing off I went yesterday.

In yesterday's outing the team outhit Springfield College to qualify for today's finals. I had other plans for today, but just couldn't miss this game. So I canceled those plans and got back in the car this morning.

The day was grey and cold. There was occasional precipitation. But it was a glorious day. I reached the tournament early enough to watch the end of the last semi-final game. The final game was a pitcher's duel. A beautiful diving, sliding catch by Wellesley's left fielder, Megan Wood, in the top of the 4th saved a no-hitter for pitcher Jenna Harvey. And in the end it was Megan's solid single to right in the bottom of the 7th with 2 on that led to Wellesley's win and the championship.

Mid-afternoon a bus load of ecstatic young women left Springfield headed east. I'd hazard a guess that they didn't really need the bus. Those women, the ones with the great big grins pictured below, could have flown back on wings of happiness buoyed by the knowledge that their hard work, dedication and teamwork helped them achieve this first.














































Thanks to Sunday Scribblings for the inspiration to write.

The official press release on the game is here.

Thursday Challenge: Fun

What could be more fun than sharing an early morning giggle with your cousin?

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