Me Write Pretty One Day

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I am one of the millions of people who are making cursive the endangered species of writing.  As The New York Times observed over a year ago, for many Americans especially those currently in school, cursive is less than common, it can be a downright mysterious. Let’s face it, more and more we like to print. And if cursive is dwindling in popularity, then calligraphy (a style of highly decorative handwriting with many flourishes) is truly a lost art.

I walked into a calligraphy lesson with the lovely and talented Mindy Barber not realizing how much of an art calligraphy actually is. Mindy has always loved handwriting and had a calligraphy set as a child. She taught herself some techniques, and then, as an adult, built upon that foundation through lessons with accomplished calligraphers, including a “Master Penman” (how’s that for a title?). Mindy now practices for her own enjoyment, and also creates beautiful wedding invitations and envelopes for family, friends and those lucky enough to fit into her busy schedule (she has a wildly successful full-time career as well). Her calligraphy has appeared in Town & Country Weddings and the wedding website The Knot.

Mindy hard at work

First Mindy introduced me to all the tools we would use during our afternoon of practicing calligraphy, including the pen holder; the long cylinder that a calligrapher holds in their hand (and that the rest of us would likely think was the actual pen). On the tip of the holder is the pen, which is removable and holds the ink until it is pressed to paper and the ink is released from the tip of the pen, or the nib. For our lesson we used an oblique pen, which Mindy said would allow me to better see the letters I was writing.

Oblique pen holder and pen

Mindy patiently explained the two basics of calligraphy: thick and thin lines. The downstrokes should be thick and the upstrokes thin. Lines are made thick by pressing down hard with the nib. A lighter touch will result in thinner lines. Sounds simple enough, right? Weeeeellllll, easier said that done.

Before we got started, Mindy’s wisely suggested we warm up. Just like stretching before a run, this would get us ready for our activity…or at least it was supposed to. We started by drawing circles over and over again; this would form the basis for many letters and their embellishments. Mindy’s circles were perfectly circular. Mine were irregular and lopsided. This exercise proved to be my first hint that this was not going to be as easy as I first thought. Then, as if ripped from the aforementioned Times article, I had to review cursive letters after I forgot how to form an “f” and struggled with a “b.”

Working very hard at drawing beautiful letters

My light-bulb moment came when Mindy explained that many master penmen consider calligraphy an art form; in this vein we would be drawing letters, not writing them. This made me feel much better about struggling with an act that I do every day of my life. If calligraphy is an art, then it’s only logical that it requires instruction, talent and a great deal of practice. I watched Mindy elegantly move her pen across the paper. She briefly picked it up off the paper over parts of certain letters that serve as contact points of multiple pen strokes (like the middle of an “f”) so that there would not be a blob of extra ink to mar the letter. This is just one example of the subtle skill needed to draw beautiful letters. Mindy has been practicing for years, making me feel silly to think I would be able to succeed after just one lesson.

But luckily I did not succeed at all, so I didn’t have to ruminate on that for long. Proof can be found in my alphabet, doodles, wobbly circles and name below.

And here’s Mindy’s beautiful version of her name (notice the thickness and thinness of the pen strokes):

While I may not have gained a great deal of calligraphy skill during my afternoon with Mindy, I did gain a new and powerful appreciation for the art of calligraphy and for calligraphers, like my dear friend. Like a painting hanging in a museum, calligraphy should be appreciated as the art that it is. So next time you receive a wedding invitation in the mail, after you rip it open, take a moment to pause and appreciate the effort and skill that it took to draw such beautiful letters. I know I will.

Many thanks to my friend, Mindy Barber, not only for taking the time to try to teach me the art of calligraphy, but also for creating the beautiful header at the top of this post. Her patience and good humor are always appreciated. I was not compensated in any way for this post.

Critical Admission (Review of “Breaking Dawn Part II”)

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I have a secret. While I don’t have Bieber fever, nor do I have posters of One Direction on my bedroom walls, I have something in common with millions of tween and teen girls around the world. My name is Emily, and I am a “Twihard.”

That’s right, while it’s difficult to admit out loud (let alone on this blog), and despite being a writer at heart in addition to a consumer of actual literature, I have also devoured all the Twilight books. I admit that the writing isn’t of the highest quality; but when asked, I cite the “powerful narrative,” of Stephenie Meyer’s series as the reason for my passion, while trying to retain my high-brow authority. In the past, when I have not been able to find a companion to see one of the movies, I have gone to the theater by myself. Sitting in the darkness I am filled with self-loathing, yet completely content at the same time.

Courtesy of Summit Entertainment

When I was graciously offered a ticket to an advance screening of the last installment of the movie franchise, inside I jumped for joy while attempting to stay cool and indifferent on the outside. To leverage this experience; and make it slightly less shameful, I am using this opportunity to see if being a movie critic could be my next career. I am a writer after all, I do love movies and I did learn from a famed movie critic, so I figure this could indeed be my next passion.

To help in this endeavor, I spoke with John Black, who reviews movies for Boston Event Guide. He provided some sage advice, particularly for my situation, “It’s not about you, it’s about the movie.” I would have to leave my fandom at the door and be objective about what I was seeing. While I did bring a notebook with me to the theater, he suggested that taking notes wasn’t the only way to go. He suggested letting the movie sink in.

While I did not know it while we were speaking, the most critical advice proved to be about the much overused “spoiler alert.” “You can tell when you are spoiling it,” John advised. Armed with this advice I settled into my seat for the film. Unlike my other adventures, this one you can judge. Please, be kind in your comments. And now, without further ado, my review of “Twilight, Breaking Dawn Part 2.”

Courtesy of Summit Entertainment

Devoted fans of the “Twilight” franchise will never be disappointed in any of the film adaptations of the wildly popular book series, and the last installment will likely be no different. But for those movie-goers who have not read the books, they too may enjoy “Breaking Dawn Part 2,” because it strays from the book’s storyline in an unexpected and thrilling way.

The movie picks up with Bella, played by Kristen Stewart, in what may be her most impressive performance to date. As the clumsy, awkward Bella Swan is transformed into an elegant and agile vampire, Stewart rises to the occasion and leaves her own awkward screen persona at home. In a majority of Stewart’s roles she has seemingly played her angst-ridden self. In this film she is more confident than audiences have ever seen her.

Courtesy of Summit Entertainment

The love story between Bella and Edward, played by Stewart’s real-life main squeeze (as of this writing), Robert Pattinson (who unlike Stewart, doesn’t seemed to have grown his Edward since the first Twilight film release nearly five years ago), picks up with Bella waking from the transformative coma we left her in at the end of the last film. Bella is not only adjusting to life as a vampire, but also to life as a mother to her half-human, half-vampire daughter, Renesmee. Director Bill Condon was given a tall order: the book dictates that the child is beautiful even as a toddler. Although Renesmee, played by newcomer Mackenzie Foy, does have an elegance about her rare for a nine-year-old, the SGI used to put her likeness on the face of an infant isn’t effective. Baby Renesmee shares a likeness with those scary E-Trade Babies.

Just as the Cullen clan settles in with their new member, who as it happens was imprinted upon by the hunky werewolf who once vied for her mother’s affections (a dynamic which when brought to life with actors seems even more creepy than when read), danger finds them…again. The powerful equivalent of corrupt vampire law enforcement — the Volturi — learn of Renesmee’s existence, but mistakenly think she’ s a dangerous “immortal child,” instead if the 50/50 split that she actually is. This sets off a chain of events that diverge from Stephanie Meyer’s book, which if you have been living under a rock are what the movie franchise is based upon.

The plot change comes in two electrifying doses, both of which will leave fans of the books, and newbies to the series, gasping with surprise. Condon takes a chance and it pays-off, elevating the film — which up until that point seemed to be going through the motions set in place by its predecessors — to a new level.

Courtesy of Summit Entertainment

As with the films that came before it, “Breaking Dawn Part 2” has an air of self-parody; at times you don’t know if you are laughing with the movie, or at it. But in this last hoorah for “Twilight,” it seems to accept and revel in its cheesiness, saved by its surprising and dynamic twists and turns, until it delivers you to a happy ending audiences would be outraged without.

This is the best “Twilight” film yet. That may not be saying all that much, but it will certainly satisfy and surprise long-time fans, as well as those who got roped in to going along with them.

I would like to thank Rachel Pope and Jen Mathews for helping to make this all possible. Thanks also go out to John Black for his guidance. I was not compensated in any way for this post.

Today’s The Day

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Today’s adventure is a repeat. I have done it before, but it’s so important to me — and should be to all of us — that it’s worth doing as often as legally possible. It’s exhilarating, sometimes nerve-racking and always important — and I hope you all have a lot of experience with it. It’s voting!

It’s a simple act that has momentous consequences. We toss the phrase around to the point of triviality, but thanks to the 537 votes that decided the 2000 presidential race in Florida, we have evidence that every vote does indeed count.

There was a long line at my polling place, but my fellow citizens seemed happy to wait

To prepare for this adventure in the voting booth I have been following the various races closely over the past several months (more like years), I researched the issues and read-up on the ballot questions I would be asked to weigh-in on. I have heard people, friends of mine even, say that they don’t vote because they don’t know enough about the issues. Huh? What kind of lazy excuse is that? Have you heard of this little genius-maker they call Google? It can educate anyone, and fast!

Early this morning I was reminded what a privilege it is to vote. After being a duel Canadian and British citizen all her life and living in the U.S. since the age of 4, my friend Rachna voted for the first time as an American citizen this morning. When I saw her in line at her polling place her smile was wide and she had her husband in tow to take pictures of this special day. We, who have had this right since we were 18 yet fail to exercise it, should think about the excitement that our fellow citizens like Rachna feel today.

Rachna exercising her constitutional right for the first time

I’m not going to guilt trip you by saying that generations of people sacrificed a great deal so that we — not matter our skin color or gender — could execute this right of ours. Nor am I going to tell you that if you don’t vote today, you really lose the right to complain about what happens over the next four years. I don’t even care who you vote for (well, that’s not exactly true, I feel passionately about the choice that this election represents, but as I have said over and over again, this is blog is not political – but my twitter handle is) just as long as you do it.

Vote! Find your polling place and go…right now. If you need help getting there Uber, my new favorite car service, is offering free rides to or from polling places for first time customers. So leave your computer and run, don’t walk, or take a black car. I will be waiting here when you get back.

Done and done

Love Letter to my Old Life

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This week was a devastating one for millions of people up and down the east coast, especially in New York City and New Jersey. It’s been painful to watch all the destruction, to see my former home left a shell of its former self.  To think that my old apartment in SoHo was just feet from the waters of the Hudson at the height of the floods is baffling to me. My neighborhood is still in the dark tonight. The desperation in peoples’ faces and voices is truly heartbreaking.

In addition to the pain I feel watching all these images on TV, is the odd feeling I have been getting because I am not helping to put those images on TV. I have been watching my friends and former colleagues from WNBC-TV do amazing work – Emmy-worthy work, in my opinion — and I am a little sad not to be a part of it. I have been watching their live coverage online (I am still a news junky at heart) and I am in awe of the public service they are providing. Not only are they informing residents of New York, New Jersey, Long Island and Connecticut, but they are welcoming them to their trucks if they need to charge their phones.

My friend Pei-Sze rocking it

The adrenalin rush of breaking news, the indescribable feeling you get bearing witness to history and the warm fuzzy feeling from doing a service to your community; these are just some of the emotions I felt being a journalist.

I admit, I now look back on my old career through rose-colored glasses. There were crappy shifts and the loss of nights, weekends and holidays with my family and friends. I walked out of the world of news with my eyes open. I knew that whatever came next would not be the same, not be as exciting, but I was trading all that excitement for a more normal life. I was trading night shifts for a 9-5 (mostly) job and the ability to carve out a semblance of a work-life balance for myself; something I found impossible in news.  Now, when a natural disaster threatens my city I get to curl up on the couch instead of racing to work without knowing when I would be able to go home.

New York will come back, better than ever. I have seen it before, 11 years ago. We have heard this a great deal in the last week, but it is true, there is a unique resilience that only New Yorkers possess. I was lucky to call myself one for seven years. I was equally lucky to call myself a journalist. And now I’m just me. And that’s no bad either.

Residents of the affected area need a lot of help. The President has encouraged Americans to donate to the Red Cross. Mayor Bloomberg has encouraged New Yorkers to donate blood. I will be doing both.

Carving up a Storm

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I hope all of you on the East Coast are safe and sound following Sandy! I rode out the storm working from home and getting into the Halloween spirit by carving a pumpkin. That’s right, Halloween waits for no hurricane. I am sure you stocked up on candy, in addition to your pre-Sandy supplies. I certainly did. Sunday night while many people were buying water, bread and batteries, I was at Target buying a pumpkin, and yes, I did get some odd looks in the check-out line.

My “Hurricane Sandy Survival Kit”

I was inspired to get into the holiday spirit by a recent visit to the Jack-O-Lantern Spectacular at Providence’s Roger Williams Zoo, and it certainly earns its “spectacular” moniker. This year’s theme was “All the World’s a Stage,” with scenes and characters from iconic movies, plays and TV shows coming to life through 5,000 jack-o-lanterns. Some are carved in a traditional way, and others with intricate scenes on the surface of the pumpkins, and illuminated from within. My prose cannot do these gourds justice, you really have to see it to believe it.

There is a pumpkin inside this pumpkin

I was lucky enough to get an expertly guided tour from the man behind the pumpkins, Travis Reckner. The seeds of the pumpkin spectacular (pun intended) were planted years ago when Travis was 15-years-old and he and his father organized a much smaller show to raise money for a local school. Their pumpkin displays gradually grew, year by year, from hundreds of pumpkins to thousands. The Roger Williams Zoo had been the home of the spectacular from 2001-2004, and it returned in 2009. With one more week left in the season, there have already been more than 90,000 visitors who have streamed through the zoo to get a peek at the creations that Travis and his team of 20 create and refresh on a weekly basis. They work around the clock, and their hard work is evident when you see the results.

As an huge fan of “The A-Team,” I loved this Mr. T pumpkin

Travis – a chef, and alum of Cambridge’s Rialto — uses special tools to create this pumpkin wonderland, including vacuums and instruments that are designed to cut linoleum. He unabashedly admits that pumpkins are his passion. He says he and his team even get a little depressed this time each year, during the waning days of the spectacular. Travis’ story is an inspiring one, in that he found his passion in a non-traditional area, pumpkins, and he has carved out (again, pun intended, I am on a roll) a job that allows him to do what he loves. Sometimes the thing that makes us happiest doesn’t come in a neat, easy package. But if we listen to our hearts, and don’t give up, we can find a way to follow our passions!

Travis, hard at work

So many pumpkins

There’s no place like home

And, here is my jack-o-lanter, inspired by Travis, and made possible by some forced down-time courtesy of Hurricane Sandy. I was prepared in case the lights went out! Obviously, I need some serious practice if I want to be able to help Travis out next year.

 Thanks to Travis Reckner for taking the time to share his passion with me. The Jack-O-Lantern Spectacular is not to be missed. After going toe to toe with Sandy, it will reopen on Halloween and will be open through Saturday, November 3th. Thank you as well to Whitney Dayton Brunet, it would have been depressing to carve alone.

Farm to Blog

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There is a chill in the air, and fall is officially here! I really love this time of year, when the leaves are changing color and all you need a blazer or cape. I got my first taste of fall (literally) on Wednesday when I was lucky enough to be a guest at Rosa Mexicano’s Fall Harvest Dinner. Although the restaurant is new to Boston, I have had a long love affair with Rosa. It has been one of my favorite spots dating back to my early days in New York. The Lincoln Center location has been the destination of choice for me and two girlfriends for years. During J School we would complain about deadlines over their famous pomegranate margarita. Today, we rendezvous over their delicious guacamole to chat about boyfriends, weddings and full-fledged careers.

Wednesday night’s feast was celebrating Rosa Mexicano’s commitment to utilizing hyper-local ingredients for a yummy farm-to-table expereince. The four-course meal was out of this world; the kind that made me wish I owned more pairs of pants with elastic waistbands. The menu included guacamole with toasted hazelnuts and pomegranate seeds, oyster tartar, grilled lobster and scallop tacos, wild mushroom and chorizo salad, and two kinds of duck.  Is your moth watering just reading this?

Lobster and scallop tacos

But I’m really not satisfied just with gobbling up this farm fresh fare, I want to go to the farm. Here is where you come in: are you a farmer? Do you know one? If you can answer yes to either of these questions please let me know: leave a comment, email me or tweet. Hook this girl up and you could have a supporting role in an upcoming adventure.

Thanks in advance!

Ceviche of razor clams, bay scallops, pink grapefruit and mint

Oyster tartar with shaved coconut, lime, guava and chili infused sea water

For desert habanero-cinnamon candy glazed apples

Pumpkin cheesecake with ancho chile and churros

the centerpiece of kale and corn. Kale is trending this fall

Thanks to Rosa Mexicano as well as my dinner date Molly Galler for inviting me to this delicious dinner. I was not compensated in any way for this post.

The Family Way

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I mention my family from time to time on this blog. Whether it’s learning about my forbears while trying out life as a genealogist, or tagging along as my mother tends to wounded birds, you have gotten a taste of my family. Now you will get a slightly more literal “taste” of them. We’ll start at the beginning:

In 1939, my great-uncle Tom Kinnealey had just moved home to Boston after graduating from Notre Dame. At that time his brother, my grandfather Arthur, had a produce business in a stall at the Faneuil Hall Market Place. Arthur brokered an introduction for Tom with one of the nearby butchers. Tom apprenticed with this butcher, but soon realized he could do things better. With an investment from Arthur ($500, quite a sum in those days), Tom started T.F. Kinnealey Company. In the years to come, his brothers Joe, Frank and Bill joined him. The company grew from that small operation in Faneuil Hall, to supplying the Army with corned beef during World War II, and eventually providing the best quality meat to restaurants and hotels across New England.  The company outgrew Faneuil Hall, and then a series of other locations around Boston.

My great-uncles Tom and Joe ran the business throughout my childhood, and they have been succeeded by their sons. Tom and Joe were two of my favorites: Tom hosted and played in our annual Thanksgiving football game well into his 80’s, usually without gloves, despite freezing temperatures. I can remember him darting inside between plays to run his hands under hot water, before dashing back out as to not miss more than a few plays. After my own grandparents passed away Joe and his wife Harriet were like surrogate grandparents to me. To this day my holidays and family birthday dinners are spent with their children and grandchildren. I am a very lucky girl.

Today, located in Brockton, MA, T.F. Kinnealey’s serves some of the finest restaurants from Northern Connecticut to Maine and out to Nantucket and Martha’s Vineyard.  Some of my very favorites spots in my South End neighborhood are Kinnealey customers. Cousins now run and work at the company (even more during vacations and breaks from college). I am not one of them, so when my cousin Joe suggested I “get bloody” for this blog, I jumped at the chance to get a first-hand look at what generations of my family have done. Besides, I suspected that I would look ravishing in a hairnet!

I arrived early one morning, although not as early as Joe who is up and at work well before the sun comes up. I had not been to the Brockton plant before, which they moved into in 2008 (although I remember my uncle Joe letting me play in the meat lockers on visits to the old plant on Mass Ave.), so cousin Joe gave me a tour and briefed me on the safety and health procedures before I got started. While keeping my coat on (it was chilly in there), I was outfitted in a white jacket, apron, gloves, plastic sleeves, and yes…that hair net I so badly wanted.

Katie Kinnealey, my mentor for the day

I joined my cousin Katie on the floor and was immediately grateful that I would be learning from someone I knew — and someone who couldn’t get that mad at me if I was really bad at this. Katie and I were working on vacuum packing meat that was headed out the door and would likely be on someone’s dinner plate that night or the next. This took some serious attention to detail in terms of setting all the meat in the machine correctly, and I also had to arrange that meat quickly as to not back up all the orders that were in line. Plus, while the machine was doing it’s thing (sealing) I was packing up more orders. Katie was so patient with me.  And I must admit, I felt a little bit like I got stuck in that chocolate factory episode of “I Love Lucy.” Please note, I did not eat any raw meat, nor did I stuff it down my shirt like Lucy did.

I also spent some time loading pieces of meat into a tenderizer, which uses tons of needles to tenderize meat all at once. After several minutes of layering the meat on a belt that took it into the machine, a kind cohort came gave me a very important tip: I didn’t have to be so careful. These truly are words (for me) to live by. I guess I had been taking a lot of time situating the meat on the belt just so to allow for equal surface area per piece. Who me? Imagine that.  After receiving that sage advice, I picked-up the pace and put the meat on the belt in a slightly less precious way.

Katie packing before we vacuum pack

Halfway though my day I realized that I was in the middle of my first day of real physical work. Ever. There was that one summer at The Top of the Hill Farmers Market, but carrying watermelons (and making a lot of “Dirty Dancing” jokes) does not a hard day of work make. All my jobs have been pretty cerebral, demanding mental push-ups, not physical ones. This was an interesting perspective to gain at this (relatively late) point in my life. It seems that a “hard day’s work” is often judged differently depending on where you’re coming from. My day working at Kinnealey’s was one of the most exhausting days I have ever had; demanding not only physical stamina, but also mental. The proof was in the pudding: the next day I was sore all over especially my back and arms.

Joe had wanted me to try all the aspects of the process, but I stayed with Katie the entire day because a piece of equipment was not working well, so I was actually useful. This made me feel amazing. Instead of being the weak link (well, let’s be honest, under any circumstances I was bound to be the weak link), I was a help. I was also working with a certain zeal because I was genuinely happy and excited to be there. Towards the end of the day, Wayne, the production manager, said he liked my work ethic. I took this as an extreme compliment seeing that I was doing something I had never done before and was taking a great deal of pride in it. He then asked me if I would be with them all week. I said that, sadly, I had to go back to my normal job the next day, but I told him I would come back. And I will, Theo still has to teach me how to cut!

After being elbow-deep in meat all day you would think I would want anything but steak for dinner, but as I drove back to Boston, that was exactly what I was craving. I stopped at the East Milton Market and picked up the makings for a perfect dinner: a Kinnealey steak.

Many thanks to my cousins Joe and John Kinnealey for letting me “get bloody,” with all the wonderful people at Kinnealey’s. Thanks also go out to Katie Kinnealey who showed me the ropes during my day in the meat locker. It’s likely that many of your favorite Boston-area restaurants serve Kinnealey Meats, but you can also visit their retail locations and cook up your own feast at home.  I was not compensated in any way for this post.

Theo, one of my new friends

Annie and Francis

Katie hard at work

Run like the Wind…or a Gentle Breeze

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Today I ran the Amica Half Marathon in Newport, Rhode Island with three very dear friends. I don’t consider this one of my adventures, and had not planned to write about it. I have run this exact race before as well as many other half marathons, and I have even run the whole kit and caboodle of 26.2 miles once before. No, this was not a stretch for me, but there were several aspects of how I prepared for, and ran this race that may be proof of me mellowing from my former Type A self…or maybe I am just getting old. You be the judge:

I have always been a pretty competitive person. I’m not so much trying to keep up with the Joneses, as I am keeping up with Emily. I set very lofty goals for myself, work hard to reach them, and am painfully disappointed if I do not. I have a very high-tech running watch that allows me to track my pace, distance, heart rate…it could probably tell me my horoscope, but I don’t know what all the buttons do. But I didn’t wear it for this race. I told myself that I was running for the fun of it, and it seems that I just about convinced myself that it was true.

Secondly, I have a lucky race headband. Here it is:

Image

I bought it the day before I ran the Philadelphia Marathon in 2008, and I have had it with me for every race since. It is supposed to be a joke. But it’s also a little serious…at least to me. I have never, nor will I ever, win a race or even win my age group. I know this. But I want to run fast and improve upon my personal best in every race.

I put my lucky headband on early this morning. I heard the wind howling outside, so I thought the headband would not only help me run like the wind, but would also keep my ears warm. But when I walked out of the door and realized that the wind betrayed a rather mild morning, I left it at my friend’s house without a second thought. This was supposed to be fun after all.

I never run with anyone. Running has always been my time to get lost in my thoughts, toss around ideas and get fresh perspective. Amazingly enough, during what I consider the important parts of this race — the start and the finish — I ran with my friend Libby. Not only was it great to have someone to chitchat with, but when Libby and I re-connected around mile 12, I needed her! I had been keeping what I thought (remember, no fancy smancy watch) was a good pace most of the race, but at mile 12 I really started to slow down, I could feel it. When Libby appeared beside me with a big smile and wave, I thought THANK GOODNESS!

I picked up my pace to match hers and we crossed the finish line strong…and side-by-side. Imagine that!

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Me and my friends, Dana, Libby and Laura after the race

I know what you’re thinking…I did all this maturing and mellowing…going out there not to win, but to have a good run…but how was my time? If this was a movie I would have not only beat my personal best, but maybe Libby and I would have beat the Kenyans to boot. But this isn’t a movie, and I don’t actually know how long it took me to run 13.1 miles. See, the official times have not yet been posted on the race’s website. If this was any other race, I may have already placed a call complaining about the delay and demanding my time. But instead, I am emailing with my friends about how we should do it all again next year. This display of patience is quite unlike me…or maybe it is. Maybe this is the new, ever-evolving me.

After saying all that, please indulge me: Come one Amica! Where are those results? Tick, tock…

Row This Boat Ashore

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This post represents the one that got away. During my recent “Olympic Endeavors,” when I attempted to master different events, I wanted to learn to row, but could not squeeze it into my personal Olympic fortnight. But on a recent weekend in Chicago I was able to make my sporting dreams come true.

I arrived at the Lincoln Park Boat Club to meet my coach for the day, Lev. Lev is a former Russian champion and agreed to help me climb into a scull, metaphorically speaking. But attempting to climb into said scull is where the trouble started, literally speaking. I truly did need some assistance getting into the boat. Balancing on one foot on a dock, while slipping the other into a shoe bolted to a boat that is bobbing in the water may sound easy…well no, it doesn’t sound easy either.

Lev and me, notice I am doing all the work

Once I finally got into the boat (a double with Lev seated behind me) the lesson began. I understood the basic movements, but rowing it’s not as easy as hopping on that erg in the corner of the gym. Lev instructed me to always keep my left hand above my right, but my two hands should never be more than two inched from each other. This alone was difficult, and I kept knocking my knuckles. Ouch! You also need to master the flicking of your wrist, which is what turns the oar’s blade to allow for alternatively cutting down on drag (when it is skimming above the water) and increasing drag (when you are pulling it through the water).

There were a lot of things that I had to remember to do at the same time and some strokes were better than others. When I was not doing something quite right Lev was not shy about telling me. There was, however, a slight language barrier. Yes, Lev is from Russia, but his English was not the problem. He was using rowing terminology that I was not familiar with, and when I did not response appropriately to his corrections, he would just yell them louder, which did not help my understanding of the situation. Because he was sitting directly behind me in the scull, his frantic gesticulations that were meant to help me understand him, went completely unnoticed. What I did notice was the ever-increasing frustration – maybe it was desperation – in his voice. And I was getting frustrated and desperate as well. Lev kept telling me to relax my shoulders which I was clenching up near my ears out of stress. How could I relax with this tiny Russian hollering in my ear?

I would have one or two good strokes, but the third would be missing a critical element. At one point Lev told me to concentrate on using my legs to put some power into my stroke…that’s when I lost every ounce of technique that I had managed to scrape together.

I eventually found my groove. I was still knocking my knuckles but my stoke became more fluid as I got more accustomed to the movements, and doing them all at the same time. It took several hours, but by the end of our time on the water, Lev even said that I was a natural rower and implored me to continue taking lessons when I returned to Boston. I think he was being very kind.

What was surprising – or after 50 posts maybe it shouldn’t be — is that when Lev and I were talking about non-rowing things — where I was from (Philadelphia by way of Boston), his homeland of Russia, what brought me to Chicago (to visit my aunt, a competitive rower) — I was not so worried about my stroke, and that was when Lev said my stroke improved. When I wasn’t worrying about being good at rowing, I actually became good (or at least goodish) at rowing. This simple fact comes up again and again on these adventures of mine. Thank goodness I keep being reminded that I don’t have to be perfect at everything, this time by a mad Russian. Maybe one of these days it will sink in.

It was touch and go there for a moment, but I ended up really enjoying rowing; you are on the water, looking at beautiful scenery and working out.  Many thanks to Lev for his help and patience. Thanks also go out to my fabulous aunt, Ann Kinnealey, who made this day possible. I was not compensated in any way for this post.

Toyidermy

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What is Toyidermy you ask? Good question. To get the answer I spent Sunday afternoon laughing and crafting with the creator of Toyidermy; the blogger and my friend, Kelly McAuley. In the simplest terms Toyidermy is like taxidermy, but with toy animals instead of dead ones. Kelly’s creative juices started flowing after she saw a set of golden animal place card holders for sale at Anthropology. Crafty since childhood, the set’s price tag made Kelly wonder if she could make her own. She purchased a jug of rubber animal toys and got to work. She dubbed the result Toyidermy, and her creations are sweeping, if not yet the actual world, at least the etsy world!

Great Wide Open place card holders

After creating her place card holders, Kelly branched out to wall mounted animal heads – and butts – business card holders, pins, coasters and even wine stoppers. She is customizing some species for football fans (think the Auburn tiger), and with the election and then holiday season right around the corner I can’t wait to see what she comes up with next.

During our afternoon together Kelly let me make my own business card holder. She asked me what my favorite animal is, and although she did not have a llama (which seems to be popular only with me and other Sesame Street kids from the 80’s), my giraffe was clearly an amazing second choice.

We started by doing a little surgery on my own personal Sophie (please note, no plastic animals were killed in the writing of this blog). This was more challenging than it sounds. I learned I am not the most graceful or efficient with an exacto knife. I got a little intense while sawing my giraffe, which made both Kelly and me laugh once she broke me out of my stress-trance. Leave it to me to get bent out of shape over a rubber animal. But I snapped out of it, and quickly got back to having fun.

My mostly-painted giraffe

We created a shelf-like back section to hold the business cards and then started to paint! First we slathered on a white base coat, let it dry while we sipped some bubbly, chatted and touched up some other member’s of Kelly’s menagerie. Then the tough part: choosing the perfect color for my toyidermy masterpiece.  I went with a metallic gold, which I am loving, but Kelly has every color of the rainbow and then some. While I managed to get paint all over myself, I was also able to coat my giraffe as well.

I am really concentrating on painting…

On Monday my new friend from the jungle was situated on my desk with my business cards gently nestled in it’s back. I work in a “creative environment,” one in which I’m sometimes not sure I exactly fit, but my toyidermy seems to be earning me some much-needed imaginative street cred.

Finished product on my desk

Another aspect of the afternoon that was great was hearing more about Kelly’s toyidermy odyssey. She started creating these little creatures on a whim, but despite the serendipitous nature of the beginning of the toyidermy tale, Kelly is making it work and toyidermy is selling like hot cakes on etsy. She carves up animals late at night and paints them before work, and enjoys every minute of it. That is something I can admire!

Kelly, the creator of toyidermy

Check out more of Kelly’s creations:

The toyidermy menagerie

Lions and tigers and bears…oh my indeed

Dinosaur pins

Kelly’s cat Louise, making friends

My giraffe

Lion wine stopper

Cat coaster

Many thanks to Kelly McAuley for letting me spend the day with her. You can check out more of Kelly’s toyidermy on her website. They make great gifts and she takes custom orders. You can also check out her blog, Gets Me Every Time for more of her DIY projects as well as killer taco recipes.