tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-379956169092254562024-03-13T14:40:55.789-07:00The Labexperimenting creatively - bound to be some explosionsmossygirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14533948543797675535noreply@blogger.comBlogger59125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37995616909225456.post-53842827199627620822012-05-07T09:50:00.001-07:002012-05-07T09:50:29.436-07:00It's a Sunny Day Kind of ThingWe have a bit of a standoffish reputation up here in the Pacific Northwest. Everyone avoids eye contact, interpersonal interaction is kept to a minimum. Among a crowd, you can truly feel alone. And it's always in a drizzle.<br />
<br />
It's a "thing" up here, the way we are, much like Southerners are hospitable and New Yorkers are short and direct.<br />
<br />
But I'll tell you this - when the sun comes out, Seattle is a different place. I'm sitting on my bike in an intersection and people roll up in their cars and just start up conversation. Everyone smiles at each other - it's an "I'm happy to be alive!"smile, or "look how beautiful this is" or I don't know, but appreciating everything life has to offer, so much so you have to connect with other people.<br />
<br />
So, I don't think it's us - that we are so different. I think its the rain, and the grey and it just overcomes us, sort of a survival tactic. And as much as we can be ok with it, appreciate the rain, the grey and the wet, it takes it's toll. Then thankfully, at some point in May, the sun comes out and reminds us.<br />
<br />
It's a sunny day kind of thing.mossygirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14533948543797675535noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37995616909225456.post-28958904336780536302012-05-07T09:43:00.000-07:002012-05-07T09:43:32.750-07:00Goals - Closing 2011As a refresher, here were the <a href="http://mossygirl.blogspot.com/2011/01/2011-goals.html" target="_blank">goals for 2011</a>.<br />
<br />
And now, the final review:<br />
<b><br /></b><br />
<b>Creativity - B+</b><br />
I can't say enough how amazing the experience with my 365 project was. A leap of blind faith turned into so much more, in ways I wasn't even quite comfortable thinking about. I missed a few days, and by "a few", in some cases I mean "a lot".<br />
<br />
The rest of the creativity stuff...didn't do so well. I did cook a few new things, learn a few new techniques, but not like a year's dedication would have meant. I didn't do much writing, and house redecorating didn't happen either. The 365 project completely carries this goal, which was something I definitely wanted.<br />
<br />
<b>Financial - A</b><br />
Check. I would give it an A+, but the implied investment side of the goal didn't turn out.<br />
<br />
<b>Fitness - A</b><br />
Half Ironman - CHECK.<br />
PRs - actually, looking back, surprisingly, CHECK. 3 PRs for the year. There was some unstated sub context about RUNNING PRs, and I did PR at Bloomsday and take 4 mins off my time, but this fast running thing really didn't pan out this year much, with the focus on the 70.3 and then bailing on the Seattle Half Mara.<br />
<br />
<b>Home Related - F</b><br />
Yeah, this did not happen. New garbage disposal by necessity. Nothing else. I cleaned out my little cubby in the coffee table a couple times, and did reorganize my camera stuff a number of times. This does not count for much.<br />
<br />
<b>Miscellany - ?</b><br />
How can you grade something you didn't write down? Some cool things for the year: I did more classics reading, including Virginia Woolf, Goethe, Jonathan Swift, Ayn Rand and Oscar Wilde. Maybe that had something to do with taking it off my list of goals, but I think it had more to do with accessibility and cheapness (FREE!) on my Kindle.<br />
<br />
<b>Overall:</b><br />
Not bad - and I'm actually really happy with how well I did on most of this stuff.mossygirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14533948543797675535noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37995616909225456.post-76144665982780214642012-01-18T18:00:00.000-08:002012-01-18T18:00:04.930-08:00Infinite Canvas<br />
Happy Birthday, Mom.<br />
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I hope things are bigger and better where you are.mossygirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14533948543797675535noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37995616909225456.post-27799681147880281302012-01-03T20:26:00.000-08:002012-01-16T20:59:15.066-08:00Archiving - 2011 Books<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6mm2wNm7VxU/TxT6pIV348I/AAAAAAAAE5I/u0ovlgRqcCI/s1600/2012-01-05DSC_8115.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6mm2wNm7VxU/TxT6pIV348I/AAAAAAAAE5I/u0ovlgRqcCI/s320/2012-01-05DSC_8115.jpg" width="320" /></a>A good year of reading.<br />
<br />
In terms of overall standouts, <i>Small Furry Prayer </i>and <i>Within the Frame </i>are the tops, followed closely by <i>American Gods</i>. <br />
<br />
Clearly it was a year of photography, and true as well with the reading. <i>Within the Frame</i>, and David duChemin's philosophy in general speak to the kind of photographer I yearn to be, and in terms of sitting down with a beautiful book full of amazing pictures, beautiful thoughts, and great advice to think about (I have never so savored instructions on exactly how to get lost in a new city), it brought everything together, including the language and the photographs to <br />
<a name='more'></a>help me refine what I want to find in my own photography. Along those lines, I developed an appreciation for art history that my mother would be shocked about, and then...you might not call <i>The Best Camera</i> "reading", but there were words, and it made me think, and rethink, and get creative, and yes, pick up my phone camera with more than a bit more respect.<br />
<br />
From the non-photography/non-fiction side, <i>Small Furry Prayer</i> again touched the deepest reasons one can connect with dogs and why, and even made me reconsider my judgment on Chihuahuas, while laughing at the humanity of dogs, the pack, and ultimately being touched by how much they mean to us and what loving them really adds to our lives.<br />
<br />
Fiction - clearly the winner is <i>American Gods.</i> Neil Gaiman's imagination, storytelling and spin on mythology creates compelling characters, unexpected twists, and altogether a book that you can't put down AND makes you imagine.<br />
<br />
The Oscar Wilde and other classics I haven't yet finished were good reads as well, however a bit drier. Virginia Woolf has been incredible and her style is amazingly sensual, just very slow reading. Bring on 2012!<br />
<br />
<b>FINISHED READING - Complete List</b><br />
<i>Within the Frame: Journey of Photographic Vision</i>, David duChemin<br />
<i>The Best Camera Is the One You Have With You</i>, Chase Jarvis<br />
<i>Photography</i>, Tom Ang<br />
<i>American Gods</i>, Neil Gaiman<br />
<i>Anthem</i>, Ayn Rand<br />
<i>Bitter is the New Black</i>, Jennifer Lancaster<br />
<i>The Importance of Being Earnest,</i> Oscar Wilde<br />
<i>An Ideal Husband</i>, Oscar Wilde<br />
<i>The Canterville Ghost,</i> Oscar Wilde<br />
<i>The Ballad of Reading Gaol,</i> Oscar Wilde<br />
<i>A Small Furry Prayer</i>, Steven Kotler<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Somewhat Abandoned</b><br />
<i>Digital Photography</i>, Tom Ang<br />
<i>Confederacy of Dunces</i>, John Kennedy Toole<br />
<i>The Voyage Out</i>, Virginia Woolf<br />
<i>The Complete Works of Oscar Wilde</i>, Oscar Wilde<br />
<i>God's Debris</i>, Scott Adams<br />
<i>High Endeavors</i>, Miles Clarkmossygirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14533948543797675535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37995616909225456.post-47403344997510193032012-01-02T17:42:00.000-08:002012-01-02T21:47:27.682-08:00TroikaIt's taken me 5 months to really sit down and write this. Why? I guess a lot of reasons. When I finished the race, I wasn't sure what to make of it, and then it took me a while to come to terms with that and make something of not being sure what to make of it, if that makes any sense at all.<br />
<br />
7 months of training.<br />
<br />
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Now, that's somewhat disingenuous because I start training in January regardless the distance. What happens between January and race day depends on the race. But none-the-less, the date and distance of race day is forefront during that 7 months. It's most evident in the "excuse-making" arena: shorter distances can be more forgiving of excuses.<br />
<br />
"Finish happy." This is always the goal of tackling a new, more aggressive distance. "Finish happy" means that time doesn't matter - it is all about training to be able to complete the distance without dying, without agony, and knowing that next time, you KNOW you can do it better/faster/smarter/more awesome, and to finish yearning for the opportunity to try.<br />
<br />
Last year was a challenge - the year's races in limbo for so long that training was last minute an frenetic. Learned a lot, particularly about how much and how hard of training I can take, and what increased levels of performance I can get out of those sessions. All boded well for this year, with a real triathlon goal this time.<br />
<br />
New gym, new schedule. Less commute, earlier swim time: 5 am open. Much warmer water.<br />
<br />
Go faster AND longer? Hmmm.<br />
<br />
We laid out the training schedule in February, marking distances by month and sport until taper and race day. It was well laid out, and executed exactly to plan.<br />
<br />
<b>Race Day - August 7, 2011</b><br />
<br />
Usually, I feel crappy and unprepared come race weekend. It's almost something I can rely on, and know that means I'm ready. I have waves of feeling prepared, and waves of nausea about what I'm about to do. I have additional waves of added nausea because I DO feel sort of prepared and don't know if I should chalk this up to finally trusting my training, or to dreaded overconfidence. My ambivalence causes me some concern. I'm ready, I know. My data stacks up - my training is to plan.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Medical Lake, WA, Troika Morning, August 7, 2011</td></tr>
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It's a beautiful morning - the alarm has gone off according to plan, and the morning is as routine as any race can be. Up ridiculously early, clothes laid out, all prep work done the night before, bottles made, faith in having pre-thought everything out. English muffins with pb&j are ready and coffee to go - we are out the door. According to plan.<br />
<br />
The drive is easy, being somewhere around 5 am in a small town in eastern Washington. I'm strangely unemotional. Of all things, I thought tackling this distance, this farthest of far, would have me feeling emotional. I decide to be happy I'm not freaking out, because you know - I can do this thing.<br />
<br />
We get there early. It's cold, and the scene informal. Although we got there before transition officially opened, the race guys were setting up and had no problem with me putting my bike in transition before the appointed moment. I hung out nervously with Dad, took a couple of pictures (the 365 can't be forgotten even for this, and that sunrise was B-E-A-YOO-TIFUL), paced around...in and out of the car. Warm then do something. Prep on this, fuss over that. Fuss to have something to fuss over to take time and energy that could go into worrying. Things are set up fine. Wait for bathroom. Get intimidated by the other athletes (they always look so fit, and everyone always postures and sizes each other up).<br />
<br />
The swim buoys look far, but hey, I know I can swim it. At this point, all races look "far", so it doesn't mean anything. It doesn't psych me out.<br />
<br />
Before I know it, it's time. I haven't even had adequate time to get nervous. I make my stomach jump just to make sure. It's odd.<br />
<br />
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I head down to the water, making sure to track down my dad, Aaron and his dad on the way and make some small talk before heading over with the other athletes (one way or another, we are all in this together, and we're all racing our own race).<br />
<br />
The gun goes off and I splash out into the water, avoiding the seaweed and before I know it, I'm out far enough I don't have to worry. As usual, I remind myself that I should slow down and swim slow - it's going to be a long race.<br />
<br />
The swim is long enough I get to remind myself of that a whole lot. Over and over. In fact, to the point that I am wondering how long this thing really is. The first half of the loop, I'm able to keep a very straight course, and get annoyed with other swimmers meandering all over. By the second half, I notice I am less straight, and cutting the buoys rather wide. Rather than get mad at myself I just swim closer and correct for next time....but next time I look up, I'm wide again. I just keep correcting. And finally, I'm on someone's feet and decide to stay there. She turns out to be pretty on course and I draft the rest of the way in.<br />
<br />
I'm tired. This swim is not over yet and I'm tired. I'm a bit confused and tell myself it's just perception - the beginning is always hard. I have a long race ahead and don't be intimidated by it. The training is in the bank and this is it.<br />
<br />
Finally, my hands reach bottom, once, twice, three times and I stand up to run to transition. I don't feel like running. I am way more tired than I thought I would be. Did I swim too hard? I check my watch to see - it reads 47 minutes. WHAT? 47 minutes? The swim should have taken 35 - 40 at the most. Why was I so slow? But at the same time...that's probably why I'm so tired...<br />
<br />
"No worries," I tell myself. "I don't NEED to run to transition. Just jog. It's a long race, so don't worry." I think, honestly, I was too tired to worry. I got to my bike and took my time. Ripped off the wetsuit and very methodically grabbed the rest of my gear, put my socks on, shoes, sunglasses, made a point to shove all the new things I needed for a much longer ride into my tri jersey, including a Clif bar and some gels. It was this process of shoving big items into tiny pockets that I realized I needed a long distance race jersey and got on my bike.<br />
<br />
I saw Aaron on the way out, snapping pictures as fast as he could, and headed out.<br />
<br />
This is my fancy bike - it feels different. I feel tired. I know I need to settle in, and there's no rush because this is 56 miles through the wheat fields and forests of eastern Washington, so just take it easy....so much easier said than done.<br />
<br />
I'm headed out on a little out and back before heading from Medical Lake to Spokane for the point to point bike course. There is wind. The pavement is rough, which makes everything seem harder. I get to the turnaround. A lady tells me my timing chip is on the wrong ankle. I try not to be annoyed. The race packet said wear it on your right ankle, but "everyone" knows if it's on your right ankle, it could get tied up in your bike gears, so you always wear it on your left. I explain my logic, then think better of it and say thanks, and tear into a Clif bar - just the first half. The first half doesn't go down so good. - my jaw is tired. How can my jaw be tired? I stop at the first third and shove it back in my pocket.<br />
<br />
The way back from the out and back is really pretty - some winding, rolling hills - and I drop my chain downshifting. I try to pop it back on but can't manage. I'm on a hill and have no forward momentum. I can't get my feet out of my new pedals. Just as I'm about to fall over, I wrench my foot out of one and break my fall. I look at my hands and my white and pinky jersey. I grit my teeth and grab my chain as 12 people pass me while I put it back on the gear teeth. I get my foot back in, and in a big gear, I try to get momentum up the hill. "It's a long race," I tell myself, "no big - and when you get done, learn to pop your chain back on while riding." I try not to think about the grease on the frame.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mile 10 of the bike</td></tr>
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I pass Dad on my way back through the Medical Lake area and expertly grab a bottle of water and mix it in my front bar bottle. I feel like a pro, for this moment. I careen through town - the number of turns are fun but a bit nerve wracking in aero on the new bike.<br />
<br />
I pass a couple people on the ride out, up hill generally, and I make a point to enjoy. The wheat is tall and blowing in the wind. I can smell it in the air, and make a point to notice. I get held up with farm equipment and pass them (on the left, of course!) and start wondering where the bathroom stop is. I know a water/gel station is coming up and hope there are portapotties there too. Finally, trying not to go up the hill too hard, I see the refueling station - no portas. I grab a gel (just in case) and am full on water and continue. Aaron and Cappie are waiting farther up and shout their encouragement.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mile 20 of the bike</td></tr>
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I'm wondering about bathroom stops. Is there one? Should I wait for one or just go? Who's behind me and how far? Anythign to hide behind? Maybe I should just stop. This is uncomfortable. Does everyone else have to pee like this? I should have made more of an effort in the lake. Should I wait for a stop? I must be half way through...when would they put it? How much farther would they wait before putting one? It's truly amazing how much time can fly by while pondering existential thoughts like this.<br />
<br />
Finally, I have headed down, missed one "side of the road" opportunity and decide, "next time there's an opp, I'm taking it." Half way up the next (and only) big hill, I stop, gingerly try to lay my bike down as fast as possible and dash behind two trees.<br />
<br />
Another 15 people pass me while I'm enjoying what might have been the best pee that month for sure, possibly all summer. I come out, start getting on my bike and as people are watching me struggle to get started on a steep incline in a big gear, they call out their condolences on having to restart there. I tell them, with a big fat grin, "it is SO worth it."<br />
<br />
I pass a couple of them before the top of the hill and continue on.<br />
<br />
It must be 3/4 of the way through the bike ride and I realize...OUCH.<br />
<br />
It's not the seat. Its chafing.<br />
<br />
Again - the debate. Do I stop? Or suffer through? What would Chrissie Wellington do? I'm not Chrissie Wellington. Stop? Suffer? Stop? Suffer? Another few miles go by. I think of the half marathon awaiting me, and the heat, and the sweat, and more rubbing. I stop. I slather up. People ask if I'm ok. I wonder why I'm such an aberration that I had to stop to pee and to anti-chafe. I'm so glad I stopped - for BOTH.<br />
<br />
You know - I'm still riding. It has been a really long time. I look at my watch. A really long time. I don't have a real good idea how much longer or where I am in the course except toward the end, and I feel tired. I realize my watch is now kind of useless because it didn't register some of the resets between the swim and the bike, so I remember I can go back to based on start time and get an approximation. It has been a long time. I'm disappointed. I try not to be disappointed. Finish happy. Finish happy. I'm happy.<br />
<br />
I remember to blow a kiss to Grandma as I ride under the cliff her cemetery plot overlooks and I can't believe how much farther I still have to go - and then a half marathon. I'm really ready to be off this bike. I talk to a girl for a bit who's having a hard time in her first race on her new bike and I'm glad that we got mine set up as well as we did and that I had a practice race, but I relate to how our muscles just feel different on the different equipment.<br />
<br />
I happen to see Dad as we finally hit civilization again and he is on the far side of the street in his usual khaki shorts and t-shirt.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At bike/run transition with volunteers giving CLEAR instructions</td></tr>
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I take some pleasure in still passing people on the final grunt hill up into Spokane, and then pull into the transition area. Volunteers are calling my number, telling me what to do - I'm so glad they are so clear and short with it because I know I'm not processing information well. They give me my bag and direct me to a park bench where I try to remember what I'm supposed to do. I remember I need shoes. I find shoes in the bag. I wonder why there is all this other stuff in there...I remember I need gels for the run and remember I need to put them in my jersey. I get up to start running and...<br />
<br />
...I feel awful.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I have not yet realized I'm still wearing bike shorts.</td></tr>
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And I remember I forgot to take my bike shorts off. I look up - there is Aaron. I ignore how I feel and rip off the shorts and throw them to him and start "running" through the park.<br />
<br />
Oh my god. I feel awful. I'm going to throw up. I'm drinking a bit, and I've got my electrolyte pills, and ...I think I might throw up. I start walking. It's a long race - there's a lot more run left, and I can walk now to run later. It's fine. I'll walk until the nausea passes. Why do I feel like throwing up? I've trained for this. I'm ready. I can do this. Why?<br />
<br />
"You know the bike ride was 60 miles..." says a woman who is slowly jogging by me on the left.<br />
<br />
"What?" I say. I'm not comprehending, and for more than just the words she just spoke.<br />
<br />
"60 miles. It was long," she explains.<br />
<br />
The words bounce around in the vacuous cavern of my mind. "It was long...60 miles...long..."<br />
<br />
"Oh my god - that explains it." I say, finally able to come up with a conclusion.<br />
<br />
"Yeah," she says, "as though it wasn't already long enough, you know?"<br />
<br />
I agree. I agree with every part of my aching, nauseous body. She passes me.<br />
<br />
The bike was 4 miles longer than it should have been...all sorts of things start going through my mind, from "4 miles shouldn't matter," to "how dare they!!", to what I can loosely term "math" as I tried to calculate how much longer in time those 4 miles cost me, each time coming up with a wildly different number only attributable to complex math without blood flow to the brain.<br />
<br />
I was at a point to start jogging.<br />
<br />
A half marathon is a long event (perception is everything). It is especially long when you once again have to pee and there are no bathroom stops. I pass the time again wondering if I should wait for one or go on the side of the trail. By Mile 4, I'm opting for side of trail. I wait for a break when no one is behind me and dart behind a tree. I squat down...and realize I am not going to be able to stand up. Panic starts to overwhelm me. I reach through stickers and through sheer will I manufacture muscles that can fire and help me stand up. I know I'm not going to be able to do that again, and I have 9 miles in the heat to go.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gNJ_pp6ig7s/TwKL267NE-I/AAAAAAAAE4I/e1Sp9sx3mx8/s1600/DSCN1018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gNJ_pp6ig7s/TwKL267NE-I/AAAAAAAAE4I/e1Sp9sx3mx8/s320/DSCN1018.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mile 2 of the run</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The water stops are reliable, and each one has little treats. Granted, only athletes think that strawberry banana gummy gels are "treats" but when you're out in the middle of it, you'll take what you can get, even if you hate banana. What they run out of, though, is ice. 4 more miles without ice. I've turned around and I'm coming back. People are stopping to ask if I'm ok. They are offering me their water. I'm ok on water; I'm just hot. I figure it must be in the upper 80's and Seattle hasn't even reliably hit 60 for training purposes. (Later I come to find out the temperature peaked at 74 and wonder how it's possible I could think it was SO HOT.) I'm hot. My feet hurt, and I have so many more miles to go....<br />
<br />
...at the turnaround I'm disappointed it is just a cone. I thought it would be a water stop, with amazing treats, and a port potty. But it's a cone. I say this out loud. A lady behind me cheers for me as I pass the cone. I cheer for her as she passes the cone. She passes me. I walk.<br />
<br />
I walk a lot on the way back. I don't even know what it is really that's keeping me from running. I just can't bring myself to. I remember that the only thing that sucks more than running is walking because it takes longer, and I can't convince myself. I make friends with another guy walking. I feel the need to run and move ahead for a bit. I leapfrog with some girls from the Spokane tri team Team Blaze.<br />
<br />
"There is NO way I could do Ironman," the one says to the other.<br />
"Oh," the other says back, "I just signed up for Coeur d'Alene...." and trails off. They laugh.<br />
<br />
At mile 12 I wind up passing them because one wants to duck behind the bushes to pee. At least I'm not the only one.<br />
<br />
Dad is waiting as I get closer to the park and the finish. I suspected he would be there. I make sure I'm running. It's very gingerly. It hurts; I'm hot; I have to pull it together. Dad is taking pictures, and seems really proud I've gotten here. I try not to cry.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tU4WsbSHmJs/TwKMAzvKILI/AAAAAAAAE4Q/Q4bMvktpeuU/s1600/DSCN1023.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tU4WsbSHmJs/TwKMAzvKILI/AAAAAAAAE4Q/Q4bMvktpeuU/s320/DSCN1023.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mile 11 of the run, 68 miles of the race (not counting the extra ~4.3 "bonus" miles)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Only two miles left, only two miles left, it can't be more than one and a half. Just get to one mile left, just get to one mile left...I start bargaining with myself - walk to this landmark, run the rest of the way. Ok just run to that landmark and walk a bit, run the last mile no matter what. You can run a mile...run the last half mile no matter what. You can run a half mile. Run the last quarter mile...you can run the last quarter mile no matter what...and I was walking. Jog a moment, walk. I'll catch this old guy and his daughter who's pacing him. I gotta pass that old guy, for chrissake. I pass the old guy, and can't sustain it. I walk.<br />
<br />
I feel a hand on my elbow. The old guy is catching me, pulling me along. "You can't let an old guy like me pass you - you can run," he says. I shake my head. "I can't." He hasn't taken his hand off my elbow. He gets me to run. He starts walking. "Oh no you don't - you can't get me going and then bail like that - come on!" We support each other through the longest mile into the park ever.<br />
<br />
I crossed the line just in front of him and only a bit in front of the Team Blaze girls, and then right behind them was the guy I had walked with for about a mile.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Mtqt1oAABr4/TwKTteQuV9I/AAAAAAAAE4k/V1DNUmRACbQ/s1600/DSC_4018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Mtqt1oAABr4/TwKTteQuV9I/AAAAAAAAE4k/V1DNUmRACbQ/s320/DSC_4018.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mile 13 of the run, .1 mile to go</td></tr>
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I saw the time and collapsed into tears. I wanted so much to be happy, to be proud of my accomplishment - of having been able to do this epic even and gone farther than ever before and conquered all these doubts and voices in my head and really proved something....but the time. The numbers on the clock weren't what I wanted to see. And I hurt, and it was hot.<br />
<br />
There was no lake to cool off in - only the fountain the kids play in. I made my best effort not to kick any of them, rinsed, gathered up my stuff and trudged to the car. Dad took off in his direction and us in ours. I was quiet on the ride back, thinking.<br />
<br />
I was in the shower back at the house when I realized - I didn't get my finisher's sweatshirt. All of a sudden it all flooded back to me. More than anything I wanted that sweatshirt - warm and fuzzy to curl up in, my "trophy" of having done this crazy painful thing...I finished my shower and got dressed as fast as I could.<br />
<br />
"We have to go back down there - I didn't get my sweatshirt!!!!" I was near alligator tears. We jumped in the car and drove as fast as we could back downtown. I hobbled as fast as my aching body could go and found someone who could help me - fortunately they were still there.<br />
<br />
But they didn't have any left. "We have XL if you want," this tiny young woman tells me. I think of XL, and I think of how big I am, and I think how much I want that shirt...and I'm hurt and mad and sad and all these things and all I can say is the equivalent of "OK." "So?" I say. She tells me she will make a special order and mail it to me. I am thinking "this is so inadequate", but I realize that yelling or anything won't make one magically appear for me, so I do my best not to cry and make sure that she writes something down so it feels like that will actually happen and hobble empty handed back across the park to go home. I ride home complaining about how because I'm so slow only fat people finish that slow, and I know it's not true, but it feels angry to say it so I do and I'm mad that I signed up early on and really, they should have reserved a shirt for me in my size no matter when I finished.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_rY59DVm9Uk/TwKT8PYj3_I/AAAAAAAAE4w/w9Nve9zqaq0/s1600/DSC_4041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_rY59DVm9Uk/TwKT8PYj3_I/AAAAAAAAE4w/w9Nve9zqaq0/s320/DSC_4041.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Proof I did it.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
6 weeks later, my shirt did show up. And I wear it all the time.<br />
<br />
So I didn't write about it because I wasn't sure what to make of it. I wanted to be happy, inside and out, immediately and lastingly, about having an awesome race. And all in all, it was so mixed. I was so mixed about it. I'm pretty sure the swim was long too, so adding another 4.3 miles to the race isn't minimal, and accounts for a big chunk of the "extra" time I wasn't happy about. If it had been shorter in the first two legs, it would have been cooler and I would have been less tired for my most challenging sport, so that might have been shorter too. I can think of this as a baseline for next time - I know to do longer runs during my brick workouts. I know to do longer and harder training rides to make the bike proportionally easier and set myself up to be stronger and have more energy on the run.<br />
<br />
I am happy I did it, and I'm happy I finished. And yeah, I do want to do another one, which I should be happy about. I was so utterly disappointed in my standings, sport by sport, even in my strong sports, that it has been really hard to face what I really think is the "why" of doing triathlon when I am not fast, and might wind up placing in a category I so closely identify with "failure" on a personal level. I think this is probably the main question I need to resolve in my own heart, and probably in life in general. I think a lot of it has to do with my expectations, and that I had them more specifically than I should have.<br />
<br />
Would I do this again if I knew I would finish last? What difference does it make where I place, and why does/did that make more of a difference than where I came from and this unique personal "race" or journey I am on.<br />
<br />
Perhaps these are things I can sort out as I train for the next one.mossygirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14533948543797675535noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37995616909225456.post-64273969456475379592012-01-02T15:47:00.000-08:002012-01-08T21:19:55.787-08:00365 2011 ReflectionI am staring at my blinking cursor because I have so much to say, and don't know where to start.<br />
<br />
Still don't.<br />
<br />
Let's try this...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sRTNIEEU3-4/TwI_8vcZ5qI/AAAAAAAAE28/3Ac_068CipM/s1600/DSC_0005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sRTNIEEU3-4/TwI_8vcZ5qI/AAAAAAAAE28/3Ac_068CipM/s200/DSC_0005.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">January 1, 2011</td></tr>
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<i><b>January 1, 2011</b>: I'm in the dark. I have the lights off and am trying to take pictures of the Christmas lights so they look "cool and fuzzy". Later, I will find out this is called "bokeh". I have messed with my fancy camera somewhat, but don't know what else to do. It's not doing what I want. The lights aren't fuzzy enough. What is wrong with me that I can't do what everyone else can do? I'm frustrated.</i><br />
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<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
I started a page on photography here to keep track of what I wanted to do throughout the year so I wouldn't get lost. I put down things that I thought I wouldn't possibly be able to learn in a year - sort of a wish list of sorts. What is amazing is to look at it now and truly experience the comparison of January 1, 2011 with January 1, 2012.<br />
<br />
In summary, CHECK. All of these things I have done (except star shots), and in most cases, have become second nature.<br />
<br />
The beauty of the 365 project was that I faced it every day. Even when I was sick and puking my guts out, there was that picture to take. Times when I was completely uninspired - this is when I pulled out my camera manual to figure out something new just to have something to do and the resulting picture to post. Not to say I didn't miss more than a few days. I backfilled with different pictures from later in some cases and I only feel marginally bad about that because most of the time when I backfilled, I used a type or scene of shot that was very different, so not that I just posted two pictures from the same set.<br />
<br />
Camera phobia - check. I whip this bad boy out all the time. Even PUBLICLY. Even PUBLICLY at parties and TAKE PICTURES of PEOPLE.<br />
<br />
Tripod phobia - what? Check. I have carted this thing across the country a couple times, shot in the dark, shot long exposures, shot on Route 66, taken selfies...to the point one of the adjustment pieces actually broke off. The tripod's been outside, inside, in my suitcase, in the 27 degree wind, thrown religiously in my trunk.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FAcp9VEb_6I/TwJAvK3O7eI/AAAAAAAAE3M/XW3fgFTn90w/s1600/DSC_7901.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FAcp9VEb_6I/TwJAvK3O7eI/AAAAAAAAE3M/XW3fgFTn90w/s200/DSC_7901.JPG" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">December 28, 2011</td></tr>
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Technicals - yup, got these. Fundamentally got these. Execution can always be improved (the how high is "up"? question), but I get it now. And...it's really fun sharing with other people.<br />
<br />
Composition - well that can always be worked on. Bokeh?<br />
<br />
<i><b>April 2011: </b>I have my new 50mm lens, the "replacement" for the broken one, and I realize for the first time that I can now do bokeh, and the reason I couldn't do it before was not because I didn't understand, it was because I didn't have the right equipment (so in a way, I didn't understand, but different), not because I was a failure at photography.</i><br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">Yeah. I can bokeh (with my 50mm 1.4).</span></i></div>
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Technology - YES! I am not a tech geek. I think most photo people are - they love the equipment and the processing and learning all the different software and apps. And I hate it. Its overwhelming, and I feel like I should be able to capture something awesome in camera with little processing at all. I would so much rather take pictures and get arty on them rather than read reviews of gear and processing software. So over the course of the year, I did set up a work flow. And then, I improved it by at least 50% by finding different software and removing steps because I better understood how everything worked together. I'm still not as good with the keyword thing, but that's a combination of discipline and knowing what I will want to key word later. I'm using the rating system, although not having a concrete goal overall for my photography also impacts this as well. What I do have down is that 3 stars is "I will share this" and 5 stars is "OMG". 1 star tends to mean I've looked at this one and there are others like it, so I know this one is low on the list until I figure out which one is the 3 or 5 star. I'm not saying that I have all this perfect, but I have something reliable and functional, and some solid knowledge that I can use to continue to improve it.<br />
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Application - All. Except the stars. I'll go for the stars in 2012.<br />
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</div>
I joined MeetUp and have been getting together with other photogs - less intimidated by a long shot.<br />
<br />
I just think it's amazing that in January 2011, I was point 'n shoot, and now, fully manual mode on the dSLR, and even more so than having such a long list of items checked off, the change in myself about it and the feeling of amazing satisfaction and fulfillment of tackling this, learning it, overcoming fears and self doubts is priceless.<br />
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<i><b>December 31, 2011:</b> I am at a friend's house for New Year's Eve. Her boyfriend comes out with his camera. It's a dSLR (EOS 20D, the exact competitor of my d80), with a HUGE looking lens. "28-300? Wow," I say. He's shooting this indoors. I know enough to say, "wow." "Ummm, what's THIS all about?" I ask, as I make fun of the little pop up flash on a fancy camera with a lens big enough to require some weightlifting to be able to shoot steady, even with VR (vibration reduction). It's a Canon; I shoot Nikon. "Who says I know what I'm doing?" He says, "It's on 'auto'." And it was. I messed with it for a few minutes, and by the end of the night, was shooting it in full manual mode, with my manual flash from 1985 on it, switching back and forth with my own Nikon for varying effects, which were intentional and understood.</i><br />
<br />
So - let's see what another 365 will do. What do you say?mossygirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14533948543797675535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37995616909225456.post-1024246435987428432011-12-31T21:18:00.000-08:002012-01-08T21:18:57.995-08:00Archiving - Races 2011<br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Date - Race - Distance - Comment</span></b></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">1/8/11 - Bridle Trails Trail Run - 5 mile - First Bandit Event!</span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">3/6/11 - Lord Hill Trail Run - 5 mile</span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">4/10/11 - Soaring Eagle Trail Run - 5 mile</span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">5/1/11 - Bloomsday - 12K - PR!!</span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">7/9/11 - Clear Lake Triathlon - Sprint Tri - PR!</span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">8/7/11 - Troika Triathlon - Half Ironman - COMPLETE!</span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">8/27/11 - Priest Lake Triathlon - Olympic Tri - PR!</span></i></div>
</div>mossygirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14533948543797675535noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37995616909225456.post-63117823238070876112011-12-31T21:14:00.000-08:002012-01-08T21:15:29.064-08:00Archiving - Photo Goals 2011<br />
<blockquote>
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It’s better to fail spectacularly while reaching for the stars than it is to succeed at something we never really wanted in the first place. - David duChamin</div>
</blockquote>
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I'm starting this page to keep track of what I want to tackle with my photography. I plan to keep adding notes to it as I go, and will probably have to think of some way to track progress on each one of the things I want to be sure to learn.</div>
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Last updated 11/21/11</div>
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Technicals</div>
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<br /></div>
<ul>
<li>Control aperture: select depth of field on purpose, blur background for effect</li>
<li>Execute good exposure manually; control exposure for creative effect</li>
<li>Learn to use and manipulate ISO settings: what it does, why to use, when to use vs. other settings like exposure +/-</li>
<li>How to take pictures indoors without orange incandescent light tinge</li>
<li>How to use Aperture Priority setting</li>
<li>How to use the flash without it washing out everything, being too harsh</li>
<li>Learn to maximize existing light that is generally not ideal</li>
</ul>
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Composition</div>
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<br /></div>
<ul>
<li>Ability to create interesting and compellingly composed photographs</li>
<li>Ability to do cool bokeh</li>
</ul>
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Technology</div>
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<br /></div>
<ul>
<li>Define a workflow in Aperture, including organization, rating system, and keyword logic</li>
<li>Ability to edit photos in Aperture: create effects, filters, black & white, sepia, colorized</li>
</ul>
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Application</div>
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<br /></div>
<ul>
<li>Determine what to replace my broken lens with</li>
<li>Night star shots</li>
<li>Night traffic shots</li>
<li>Get over feeling awkward whipping out my huge camera to take pictures, maybe tackle tripod phobia</li>
</ul>
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<b>Progress Updates:</b></div>
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1/5/11 - already panicking nightly about what to capture for my photo.</div>
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1/10/11 - getting bored with indoor light in the evening. Everything is orange. The flash is too harsh, the light too cold and blue.</div>
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1/12/11 - not sure about continuing with Flickr. Started posting and logging 365 project with Picasa to make sure I could always access the full file photos for free, and know which ones I used for the project.</div>
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1/16/11 - decided I needed a mentor. Started looking. Found some good options.</div>
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1/18/11 - submitted my first 365 to the Shutter Sisters photostream. Joining the conversation on Flickr.</div>
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2/11 - bought filter for on-camera flash. This rocks and softens things.</div>
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2/21/11 - broke out the flashes from Mom's old set up taking photos of her art. LOVE this!</div>
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3/6/11 - finally bought new lens: Nikon 50mm 1:1.4 AF - LOVE this!</div>
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4/24/11 - beginning to get over big camera phobia. Less weirded out by whipping that bad boy out. People actually are now referring to me and my "cameras". Definitely more comfortable with aperture priority, shutter priority, and learning more about how to control the exposure in the dSLR. Starting to consider running it in full manual mode (although I'm much more comfortable in full manual with the film camera), and am understanding more about what the information the dSLR presents in the viewfinder means and how to use it.</div>
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11/21/11 - wow. wow, wow, wow. So much to say. I came to post ideas. </div>
</div>mossygirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14533948543797675535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37995616909225456.post-19871006032243373992011-11-27T20:37:00.001-08:002012-01-02T17:44:54.925-08:00Circularly LinearSomehow I've been contemplating fear and trying to figure out who I am and what I want to be when I grow up for over 15 years - perfecting circular thinking since 1998.<br />
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Perhaps there is a profession in that...<br />
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...the only ones I know are the ones where they figure out what to do, and can advise others. All I can do is advise how to come to the same crossroads in an ever increasingly forward motion. It must be a spiral advance - arriving at the same crossroads, but each time a level up, maybe two.<br />
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And yet, somehow from all those moments, endless moments where time is relative and warps to last forever, stuck standing there not knowing what to decide, I moved forward - albeit, I think a few times I was shoved forward whether I wanted to or not. And yet...<br />
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...here I am...<br />
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So far from there, and yet so close.<br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">I picture the 21 year old version of me, in my flight attendant blue suit, standing on the street corner, and the 26 year old version of me, in flared black pants, steps outside of me, forward into life, stops at the next street corner and the 29 year old version of me, in khakis, a tee, jean jacket and scarf, steps forward, the 34 year old version of me steps forward...into what? Another cross road in the future.</span></i><br />
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These are the things that make me realize we never really change. Who we are is who we are. I was this way at 6 years old, and I am this way now, and I will be this way when I am 66 years old and I will be this way as I ponder how to leave this world. The voice inside my head is the same, it's fears are the same, it's vision the same, it's words are the same, the colors and risks it sees are the same. Perhaps the stakes change - perhaps they don't; one phase's perception can't really be compared one to one with another.<br />
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Ironically, this should be a relief - one thing in life that I can always count on - that the core of who I am will not change. And yet, familiarity breeds contempt. My mother called them demons - those things that torment you - and I think that's a bit dramatic, but when the lights are low, I do see their teeth from the corners of the darkened room.<br />
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I yearn to close this post with something conclusive, and yet perhaps it says more to have nothing conclusive to say - to have this post about circular thinking not quite be circular, and for once, let it be one thing in my life that is linear.<br />
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Level up?mossygirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14533948543797675535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37995616909225456.post-32780254724094764652011-11-27T20:02:00.001-08:002011-11-27T20:15:42.272-08:00carnation<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />mossygirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14533948543797675535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37995616909225456.post-65645418777445594112011-10-09T16:40:00.000-07:002012-01-02T17:45:31.117-08:00LegacyI'm thinking a lot about Steve Jobs, lamenting the loss and appreciating the astonishing impact Steve Jobs made on our lives (as I type this on my new MacBook Pro and complain about Lion). There is so much out there - so much commentary, so many people dedicated to saying anything I might think of to feel or say, so I'll let that stuff settle in my head. My mind eventually drifts to life moving forward - the legacy and company he left behind and what will become of it. What will the new leadership do, how will they keep his vision alive?<br />
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The irony hits me that as they try to move forward, and try to keep the innovation Jobs defined the company with, the very attempt to try to follow his footsteps in and of itself contradicts what he stood for, and what made him able to do what others could not even dream. By trying to think "what would Steve do?" they are limiting themselves...what did Steve think instead? He wasn't trying to live up to anyone else - he was trying to innovate beyond anything anyone else had ever thought.<br />
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I've thought about this personally as well - when my mom died, how did I handle her legacy? I wasn't sure how to apply the things she had taught me, the advice she had given (whether I liked it or not) and defining how much of what she thought and wanted should impact and shape my future was a difficult subject. I wasn't even sure if it should as a going forward awareness. Clearly it is different in the Steve Jobs/Apple situation, especially because Jobs' leadership created and defined Apple's success. The questions, however, are similar. I think even about other concepts along this line, whether religious text or the Founding Fathers - in so many ways, we take visionaries and continue to try to live in their guidance, and while the benefits can be clear, at what point do we look and say, "it is time for something new"?<br />
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I suppose the success of living and acting within that visionary guidance is about the concept. Conceptually, freedom, independence, love, focus and simplicity, all of these are timeless, and not limiting. The trick is in staying true to the concept rather than trying to apply too much of the specific hows. I'm not sure I can completely describe what I mean, but I'm getting there in my head.<br />
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It will be interesting to see what happens - what new innovator steps into this space, how Apple will transform, and how they will remain true to Jobs' vision - and what it becomes clear they see it as. As Jobs said, "...death is very likely the single best invention of life. It is life's change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new."<br />
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Thank you, Steve, not just for the gifts of your innovation, but for the inspiration to make the world a better place, and dream things no one else ever has.mossygirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14533948543797675535noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37995616909225456.post-89683555800066699152011-09-05T20:12:00.000-07:002011-09-05T20:12:25.537-07:00No one loves a photographer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pit4rYP0gYw/TmWOtcl6OBI/AAAAAAAACr4/gb1jvSOCstA/s1600/DSC_4722.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pit4rYP0gYw/TmWOtcl6OBI/AAAAAAAACr4/gb1jvSOCstA/s320/DSC_4722.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Mamo Mary - her next words were, "don't take my picture!"</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZQeQbJqKqHE/TmWO1f4KyYI/AAAAAAAACr8/bbAw6r-Zq1M/s1600/DSC_4747.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZQeQbJqKqHE/TmWO1f4KyYI/AAAAAAAACr8/bbAw6r-Zq1M/s320/DSC_4747.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Then Sonnie says, "don't take my picture!"</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fTMjxM99Qwk/TmWO9s7TjsI/AAAAAAAACsA/9sShJGE-374/s1600/DSC_4753.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fTMjxM99Qwk/TmWO9s7TjsI/AAAAAAAACsA/9sShJGE-374/s320/DSC_4753.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And Cappie's next words? "Don't take my picture!"</div>mossygirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14533948543797675535noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37995616909225456.post-50396796850572117642011-08-28T13:48:00.000-07:002011-08-28T13:48:18.573-07:00Cheers!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2EAqCF4nPHc/TlqomHT4TeI/AAAAAAAACr0/vLFup5FBIrY/s1600/Photo+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2EAqCF4nPHc/TlqomHT4TeI/AAAAAAAACr0/vLFup5FBIrY/s320/Photo+3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Huckleberry daiquiri in Grandview (we call it "PGV", or "Pretty Good View") bar...checking out race results from Priest Lake tri, taking a break (sigh!) from the sun and getting an internet fix.mossygirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14533948543797675535noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37995616909225456.post-79748691805337817812011-08-19T19:07:00.000-07:002011-08-19T19:07:44.798-07:00Ironical...that when I stop training for races, I have more time to cook yummier food...mossygirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14533948543797675535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37995616909225456.post-71792502293197077352011-08-15T21:12:00.000-07:002011-08-16T07:50:35.414-07:00Fork.<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-h_mZbOdZfEw/TkntLGBMHnI/AAAAAAAACrc/NHmx9rP_Vik/s1600/IMG_20110813_172251.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-h_mZbOdZfEw/TkntLGBMHnI/AAAAAAAACrc/NHmx9rP_Vik/s320/IMG_20110813_172251.jpg" width="239" /></a>My dad holds up his fork. We are at dessert, having pie, cake and coffee.<br />
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"Can I please have a fork that's straight?" He asks, noting the strange and significant curve to the handle. It looks as if it's had a bad run in with some telekinesis.<br />
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"Are you questioning the fork for its alternative orientation?" I question back. "Just because the fork has an alternative orientation doesn't mean it can't perform it's job just as well as a straight fork," I obstinately declare.<br />
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"And what would it's job be?" the Boy jousts back to me.<br />
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"Well, forking, of course...are you saying it can't fork just as well as a fork of a different orientation?"<br />
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Some questions probably shouldn't be asked, nor answered. And it was probably good that no one pointed out that spooning leads to forking.<br />
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mossygirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14533948543797675535noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37995616909225456.post-74141288430396373572011-08-14T12:34:00.000-07:002011-08-14T12:34:57.784-07:00TodayWhat is beautiful today?<br />
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...that I have so many people who love me more than I will know, even when I make mistakes (big ones sometimes) and am all the things that frustrate me about me - somehow they love me not just in spite of those things, but BECAUSE of those things.<br />
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...that I got to spend two weeks with my dad<br />
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...the few moments the sun breaks through the endless Seattle clouds<br />
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...the peace that comes from watching piles and piles of laundry get cleanmossygirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14533948543797675535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37995616909225456.post-46588448415727019072011-08-13T20:35:00.000-07:002011-08-13T20:36:24.104-07:00Endless Loop<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QaSG4akRlT0/TkdBcGKxotI/AAAAAAAACq8/RDxaQTRiJO0/s1600/DSCN1078.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QaSG4akRlT0/TkdBcGKxotI/AAAAAAAACq8/RDxaQTRiJO0/s200/DSCN1078.JPG" width="200" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"></span></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HUlPj8J5rGo/TkdBzJC2iyI/AAAAAAAACrA/KItZnv49s6g/s1600/2011-08-11DSC_4076.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="152" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HUlPj8J5rGo/TkdBzJC2iyI/AAAAAAAACrA/KItZnv49s6g/s200/2011-08-11DSC_4076.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">...taking a picture of you taking a picture of me taking a picture of you...</div>mossygirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14533948543797675535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37995616909225456.post-2772288135506514412011-08-01T11:49:00.000-07:002011-08-13T12:03:06.552-07:00Pool...and when I did sleep, I dreamt of a pool, a beautiful pool - black lanes of tile under aqua blue water, sparkling in the sunshine, stretching out a full olympic distance, wide and empty. Strings of triangular flags stretched above the lanes, moving gently in the nearly indiscernible breeze, begging, inviting me for a swim.<br />
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This was not the Y: short half length pool, crowded with other swimmers. This pool was perfect. I went to get my things and go swimming.<br />
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By the time I got back, the weather changed. The pool was indoors. It was cloudy. The breeze had picked up. I looked for a way to get into the pool. I had to go through a door. When I got in, the building was dark, the water no longer aqua, had taken on the darkness of the building and reflected the gray of the low light in the building.<br />
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The only way into the pool was from the diving board. I put my things down and went to the diving board. As I looked down, the water was stormy - this was not the pool I went to get my things to swim in. This was not the pool that invited me.<br />
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I looked around to get off the diving board; the only way off was back. I considered turning around and looked down at the pool. Now, farther down, I was standing on the high dive. The water was churning under me. I had considered jumping anyway, sucking up my fear and trusting that I would survive. Looking down, the water was far below me, rough, and farther now each time I blinked. I could jump, but it would be too far to survive the fall, and the water was now a river, rapids below me.<br />
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Panicked, I turned around again to walk back, afraid that I would fall as I backtracked, terrified to move, to choose, to do anything, knowing I could not stay where I was.<br />
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I woke up with a start, staring at the ceiling, the doorway, the darkness...thinking about the pool and my fear.mossygirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14533948543797675535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37995616909225456.post-81217895783608232092011-07-14T11:33:00.000-07:002011-08-13T11:47:53.447-07:00Direction195 days into my 365...<br />
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...I have a thought process for coming up with pictures for the day. Hopefully, something about the day inspired me to think about taking a picture, or hopefully something about the day before got me thinking ahead...but generally, it becomes evening and I haven't gotten a picture and I don't have a plan. In this case I look around the house, get bored with my thoughts of what to snap, and since it's summer and there is a lot of daylight, I typically head outside and up the street to see what's there, what the light is doing, and grasp desperately at anything that shows a hint of pulse over "boredom".<br />
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I always walk out of my courtyard and walk up the street. I turn left. Sometimes I cross the street, but usually I stay on the left.<br />
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It took me until 195 days into this project to wonder what would happen if I walked out of my courtyard and turned RIGHT.<br />
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Holy shit, people.<br />
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Nearly 200 days, how much boredom and skipped days for lack of inspiration, when all I had to do was look the other way?<br />
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The complete impact and meaning of this simple, basic thing, is staggering to me. Not just the 365 project. But how many times, every day, in every situation, in every relationship, do we have such a pattern of approach or perspective that it doesn't even occur to us to do something different? How many situations or life paths do we go down not even thinking we could go the other way (let alone blaze our own trail) even when it is right in front of us? (Or behind us, or to the right of us as we turn left, or across the street, or...)<br />
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Turning right, down to the light on the highway, then I can go right, or left, or across the street, and go right, left or forward...each path leading to a different path and different choices...I always turned left.<br />
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I know why I turned left. Turning right goes toward the traffic and crossing the major street. It takes 3 minutes to wait for the light to change. It takes longer. And really, generally doesn't seem quite as interesting. But as I walked up the street to take my pictures, soon walking 2 blocks didn't warrant any new sights or settings, so I walked 4 blocks, then 6...and then, waiting 3 minutes each way for the light might not be so bad, and just for something new.<br />
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Like most things, as soon as I turned right, more opportunities showed up, and new opportunities got me thinking of new things. Try a soft focus, try something urban, ooooh, how about a series of themes...<br />
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...I'm still absorbing this, translating it, understanding all it means...basic concepts can be so profound.<br />
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mossygirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14533948543797675535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37995616909225456.post-38791492474147203322011-07-10T20:21:00.000-07:002011-07-10T20:21:02.349-07:00SymmetryI love these two pictures together:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-suC4_-2NZU4/Tho_Huejl4I/AAAAAAAAB5c/mVfOEvSwFGY/s1600/DSC_3192.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-suC4_-2NZU4/Tho_Huejl4I/AAAAAAAAB5c/mVfOEvSwFGY/s200/DSC_3192.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SdsxbxYOtBU/Thpm5fCgPxI/AAAAAAAACBQ/HB2RYIMYeKE/s1600/DSC_3257.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SdsxbxYOtBU/Thpm5fCgPxI/AAAAAAAACBQ/HB2RYIMYeKE/s200/DSC_3257.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I didn't intend to mirror the mug from my morning's coffee when I took the picture of the shadow on the pavement this afternoon, nor did I recognize the repetition of the pattern until I looked at the picture on my computer later. I was focused on how black and white the shadows on the asphalt were, much, ironically, the same way I appreciated the soft monotone of the leaves on the mug in the morning.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The depth of symmetry is what strikes me most - not the leaf pattern, but the appreciation of the simplicity of the monotone image that stuck with me throughout the day. I can find similar symmetry in most of my writing when I look back over the years. Every so often the same theme emerges, with similar images, similar focus, but slightly different perspective. Sometimes its an identical concept, but the focus inverted - instead of the developed "picture", it's the film "negative" version of the same idea. Instead of writing about sound, in the same way, I write about silence. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It is interesting.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">...and yet, it is not surprising. The more I think about it, it's really not surprising at all. Some concepts capture us, for whatever reason, perhaps unique to each concept, and I think some concepts weave themselves through our lives, coming and going, presenting themselves in different ways. They always strike me with a certain element of "magic", and yet, when I really think about them, I realize that they are just my themes.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Black and white, shades of grey, stillness and peace...these concepts will always be things that resurface for me. They captivate and inspire me.</div>mossygirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14533948543797675535noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37995616909225456.post-81832424508127425512011-07-10T17:14:00.000-07:002011-07-10T17:14:27.372-07:00Photo Essay, Theme: Captions<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-suC4_-2NZU4/Tho_Huejl4I/AAAAAAAAB5c/mVfOEvSwFGY/s1600/DSC_3192.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-suC4_-2NZU4/Tho_Huejl4I/AAAAAAAAB5c/mVfOEvSwFGY/s320/DSC_3192.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"measured out in coffee spoons..."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cuqMvkfkB9s/Tho_I9yW8fI/AAAAAAAAB5g/4L0bUZzzKGQ/s1600/DSC_3201.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cuqMvkfkB9s/Tho_I9yW8fI/AAAAAAAAB5g/4L0bUZzzKGQ/s320/DSC_3201.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Sometimes you're just a number.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Vn4kDX1539Y/Tho_LR-Xe6I/AAAAAAAAB5o/C-_y29fArf8/s1600/DSC_3204.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Vn4kDX1539Y/Tho_LR-Xe6I/AAAAAAAAB5o/C-_y29fArf8/s320/DSC_3204.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The grass will be greener...</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IPZ86NPT9EE/Tho_MLZeHQI/AAAAAAAAB5w/EWNC7Ulky9Q/s1600/DSC_3202.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IPZ86NPT9EE/Tho_MLZeHQI/AAAAAAAAB5w/EWNC7Ulky9Q/s320/DSC_3202.JPG" width="214" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Someday when I grow up...</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5soxqOTD1wo/Tho_NMeplwI/AAAAAAAAB50/8YNA244ftHQ/s1600/DSC_3211.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5soxqOTD1wo/Tho_NMeplwI/AAAAAAAAB50/8YNA244ftHQ/s320/DSC_3211.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I might be hidden in the overgrowth</div>mossygirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14533948543797675535noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37995616909225456.post-53505389647765456312011-07-07T21:19:00.000-07:002011-07-07T21:19:37.090-07:00ShrimpI was eating shrimp salad, just chomping away. Big, giant prawns (previously frozen), chomping and devouring in one bite, bite after bite. Giant prawn - down you go. Chomp. Another. And another.<br />
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American gluttony? Another prawn. Yes, I think I tasted that one. Ooh, I'll try better on the next.<br />
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Chomp - yum! Mmmmm, prawn. Yup, that was tasty. Yummy little prawn...momentary thought...you once were alive. Swimming. I chomped you in one bite - your whole life for my one bite. I definitely did not enjoy that bite enough for your whole life. Even if you didn't really have sentience.<br />
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Another bite, another prawn. I eat a lot of other lives - chicken, shellfish, salmon - and generally try not to think about the sentient animal behind it. Why this prawn? Oooooh tasty, and the next (CHOMP!) Maybe because I suddenly became aware of the callousness of my chomping compared to the very poignant meaning of an entire life in that single bite (whereas a chicken takes a lot more bites).<br />
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Then, because I live in Seattle, as another prawn got chomped (this salad was FULL of prawns - thank you, Costco) I wondered about the sustainability of prawns....while barely giving a thought to consuming this life, what about everything that was sacrificed to put these prawns (shelled, tail on, frozen) into a 3 lb bag for me to buy without thinking at the bulk food store freezer section? What are the fishing practices? Do fishermen lose their lives so I can mindlessly chomp prawns in a salad on my deck in the summer? What other seafood is sacrificed in pursuit of the singular goal of "prawn"? One day, will we fish out all the prawns?<br />
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I assumed the answers were all dire - and I was a bit disappointed that I didn't know the answers. Some discussion of the merits of farmed vs. wild salmon were discussed, and logic hypothetically applied to the vague concept of prawn fishing, in combination with some assessment of "Deadliest Catch" and whether that also applied to prawn fishing, and guiltily I actually chewed a prawn (hey, they were ALREADY IN the salad - no point wasting them!) and realized I should look into it more, so at least, if I am going to choose to eat them, it is while accepting the direct and collateral impacts of them.<br />
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Some people find unity in considering how their food reaches their plates - thinking of the farmers who grow the food and benefit from selling it, then the vast numbers of people who benefit from the transportation, supply chain and ultimate sale of the food, uniting the global community, and instead, guiltily I was considering the opposite angle of the global impacts of the food I was eating....<br />
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I did some research, and found that yes, typically prawn harvesting is not sustainable, and that there is no actual measurement of sustainability that you can look for (no federal regulation or symbol, like for organic, or meat quality), other than doing research into companies that only use sustainable practices. There are some, mostly located in the arctic Atlantic, so it IS possible.<br />
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Doing some additional research, I did find that Costco specifically is focusing on transitioning to sustainable seafood supply, and has reduced or eliminated supplying non-sustainable species, and that by the end of the year, they plan to make sure their seafood is all sustainable (http://www.seafoodsource.com/newsarticledetail.aspx?id=10028).<br />
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I have to admit to being somewhat of a sustainability nut, and have been for as long as I can remember (yeah, I was THAT kid) and now being an adult, I try to mostly be ok with the reality that not everything can be saved, and that I have to make decisions about the lifestyle I want and the level of advocacy that I can effectively have while having that lifestyle, and yet, I still think about it a lot. Every time I go to the store - buy local or buy organic? Buy recycled or recyclable? Sustainable or conservation? The choices now are ever so much more complicated, and the supply of information ever so much more overwhelming, political and sensationalistic. Finding clear, concise, unbiased information is challenging and keeping up to speed with it is....something I can't even realistically consider.<br />
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The positive and uplifting thing is that there are enough people who care (even a little - like me) that the information is out there, and that more and more companies are creating and supplying sustainable items. Even if one choice is more or less good overall and I can't tell, at least I have choices that are better than where we were 15 years ago when nothing was recycled, recycling was for crazy liberal people, and the seas should be fished clean of tuna because no one realized dolphins were dying from it.<br />
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Somewhere, someone in Georgia just shook their head because they do think recycling is for crazy people, and that I'm just a liberal freak from Seattle. It's ok. My prawns are going to be sustainable so they can eat some too.mossygirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14533948543797675535noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37995616909225456.post-5099601772907075322011-05-28T14:01:00.000-07:002011-05-28T14:01:37.111-07:00Fencing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6u1S_wXBSSE/TbynAq-CzPI/AAAAAAAABks/I9cHY5n0o7M/s1600/DSC_1585.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6u1S_wXBSSE/TbynAq-CzPI/AAAAAAAABks/I9cHY5n0o7M/s320/DSC_1585.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">The fence was there long before I came along, on this walk that by happenstance delivered me to this field. Across the field in waist high grass, my feet sinking into grass-padded mud I trudged.</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Falling down, in disrepair, rust had claimed the strength of this fence and with it's remaining grip, it barely supported the wires and crossmembers. Overgrown with the same grass covering the field, I wondered about the fence's intent - originally to keep something in, or something out....now but a marker of a barrier that meant something once and now needs little reminder. Sharp, rusted corners of failing barbed wire contrast with the sparse construction overall - an interesting juxtaposition of frailty armed with aggressive intent.</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">I walk along, my dog and I, still sinking in the mud, and I wonder how many fences, similarly frail and sharp, I have hidden in the overgrowth of my own mind and heart, what I originally built them for, and if they still have any meaning.</div>mossygirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14533948543797675535noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37995616909225456.post-31231878095912006682011-04-24T13:04:00.000-07:002011-04-24T13:18:28.449-07:00Living<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kKLJuCT2qfk/TbO0LP9QujI/AAAAAAAABMg/E_wz744x4Rc/s1600/DSC_1628.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kKLJuCT2qfk/TbO0LP9QujI/AAAAAAAABMg/E_wz744x4Rc/s320/DSC_1628.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Near my house is an old, abandoned Swedish graveyard dating back to the late 1800's. It sits on a hillside, nestled between housing developments in a mostly unimproved grove of trees. It is fenced with a split rail fence, now falling down, though not clearly resulting from the elements of nature or the elements of humanity.<br />
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Beer cans and soda bottles litter the graveyard, trash accumulating against the trees and gravestones. Teenagers have taken to hanging out, seeking solitude for their solitary group escapes from the rest of society. I wonder how much thought they give to the uninvited guests laying below them, and whether there is an implicit invitation...suspecting the answer is a bravado joke or lack of thought at all; certainly there is no respect for this place I seek for quiet contemplation.<br />
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The headstones are old, and looking at how the moss covers and owns them, destroying the identifying engraving differentiating one life from another, I realize how impermanent even the most permanent seeming things are. We seek to immortalize ourselves in one final, lasting way, and within a century, even the most lasting thing we come up with: carving into a solid rock, we are washed away - a mere blink in the moment of universal time. Standing here, my body - this "me" - is even less lasting.<br />
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I tend to stop here on my longer runs. Perhaps it is simply a lazy way to take a quick break and catch my breath, but in the gentle stream of thoughts in my head, it serves as punctuation. I recognize the juxtaposition of my living, my exerted breathing, with the lack of breath...a brief acknowledgment of my final destination beyond this run and the next, a bit of reminder to actually live in the time between now and then, and several moments of gratefulness that I am here, now, doing this, thinking this, being lucky enough to stop and think these thoughts and have these feelings.<br />
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I share this moment, and the next, I snap a few pictures, trying to capture these thoughts in a visual 1000 words, but for once, the picture cannot nearly convey all the thoughts I bring, and so I add these words.mossygirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14533948543797675535noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37995616909225456.post-36318865568102152862011-04-11T20:41:00.000-07:002011-04-11T20:41:57.677-07:00100 Days: 365 projectI've been shooting a picture a day (more or less - I've missed about 4 days) for 100 days. I thought it was momentous at 90 days, but now easily arriving at 100 days...<br />
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I didn't have much faith when I started this process. I didn't know how how inanely shooting one picture a day could really make me any better than where I was, shooting sporadically.<br />
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What I didn't understand is what happens, over time...it's not that I suddenly got amazing, or suddenly learned amazing things. It wasn't even like you can look at picture by picture and see incremental improvement.<br />
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I don't know what it is exactly that works, or how everything is coming together. Still, when I look at a photo I've taken, or a subject I want to capture, I realize how much more I want to learn and how much longer this journey really is. That horizon never moves, but there winds up so much path behind that adds up to some sort of accomplishment, skill and reward.<br />
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I find I pick up my camera more confidently. I swap flash for no flash, manual to aperture priority to automatic when necessary. I have an idea to start with on an approach instead of abject fear and blankness. I like what I'm producing more often, and it's getting me excited to do more. I carry my camera everywhere now.<br />
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I can ask questions now to learn - that's a big step: being able to put it in words and ask, and understand at least parts of the answer that comes back and begin a conversation. Ironically, it makes it easier to ask "dumb" questions and admit how little I know. I love feeling the intimidation fade away.<br />
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How many of my goals have I accomplished? Found a new lens, understand some things about the differences, capture some different kinds of bokeh, I'm even starting to understand when using a small aperture is harming the picture I'm trying to take. I am so excited.<br />
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The magic in picking up that camera every day is something I could only have faith in. Even at the beginning, I found that once I picked it up, I found new angles, new ways to compose the picture, new ways to try to capture, new ways to look at the things around me. One desperate shot begets another and another, and finally something pretty cool. I guess it's no different than any other kind of creativity that way.<br />
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I can't wait for the next 100!mossygirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14533948543797675535noreply@blogger.com0