CROSSING THE FINISH SWINE

Should I be embarrassed to say that the main reason I registered for the Flying Pig's 10K race is because of the logo?  Cincinnati is hosting this year's All Star Game and as soon as I saw the adorable little piggy in the baseball cap I knew I had to have a medal of that.

The all-powerful Shrinky Dink charm.

I did not go into Saturday's 6.2 mile race with any great expectations.  In the back of my mind had always been the goal of finishing just under an hour and 30 minutes.  That would require a pace of a little better than four m.p.h. the whole way.  I can walk that fast, but not necessarily for six miles.  And Cincinnati has some hills.  Quite a few hills.  This was not like walking loops around a high school track.  As of Friday evening my personal best time had been one hour, 33 minutes or roughly a 15:06 per mile pace.  To finish in goal time, by the skin of my teeth, I need to average no more than 14:30 per mile.  Ugh...  Yeah, I couldn't do that.  I'd never done that.  Still, Friday night I kept thinking about it.  I even made a tiny Shrinky Dink tag for my shoelace.

I honored my Earthathon team on my racing bib.

My cheering section for the 10K consisted of my sister (the Inmates' beloved Uncle Chester) and my husband.  For some reason my children turned down the chance to get up at six a.m. on a Saturday so we could get downtown and in position for the eight a.m. race.  In fact, my sister regularly stays up until three or four in the morning, so she wasn't running on all eight cylinders, either.  (Even on her best day she's lucky to be running on six.) 

The race's corrals were lined up on Joe Nuxhall Way next to Great American Ballpark.  I was in corral F, reserved for those of us who thought it would take us longer than 1:30:00 to finish the race.  Yeah, we were literally the end of the line.  But we were festive!  There were piggy hats and piggy tails and sparkly tutus, my favorite on a burly 30-something man.  What we lacked in speed we made up for in attitude.  Fearing footage of me plodding along the course would turn up on YouTube, I made myself as inconspicuous as possible in capri pants and the Flying Pig t-shirt.  I have this phobia about going viral on the Internet...  At one point my sister suddenly glared up at a window above the Reds Hall of Fame and Museum before realizing the man looking down on her was actually a poster of Pete Rose sliding into third base.  (Later at lunch she said she felt like she was having a "flaccid assback".  She'd meant to say "acid flashback."  Yeah, she needed some sleep.)

I handed my jacket off to the Vulcan and my purse to Uncle Chester.  They both wanted off the course before the race officially started and they got trampled by a woman wearing a pig nose and sequined pink headband.  As the 4500 participants slowly moved as one toward the starting line, I plugged in my earphones and got my Green Day-heavy playlist ready.  While the handy Flying Pig app allows family and friends to track folks in the real races (i.e., full and half marathons), my cheering section was stuck with the lower tech version of me texting my husband at each mile marker.  As we went over the starting line, I clicked the chronograph feature on my watch and set out to the tune "500 Miles" by The Proclaimers.  So I wasn't really going to walk 500 miles, but at that moment it kinda felt that way.  (Anyone familiar with Cincinnati and interested can see the course map here.)

I walked along for about a quarter of a mile, my legs gradually warming up and getting looser.  Then I did the strangest thing.  I started to jog.  I had sworn I was not going to do my basset hound trot in public, but there is power in the combination of adrenaline and a slight competitiveness.  I began to pass people.  And every time I passed some boney-ass looking cute and perky in her Lycra jogging shorts, I felt a shot of energy go through me and I went just a little faster.  I know, I know.  It's petty and bitchy and juvenile.  Damn, it was fun. 

I crossed that bridge at some point...I think...

We crossed the bridge into Newport, Kentucky.  I glanced at my watch at the first mile marker as I fumbled to pull my phone out of its case and text The Vulcan.  It read 13 minutes and change.  Wow, that was well under the pace I needed.  I continued to walk, tossing in a jog about a third of the time.  At the second marker I was still well under pace.  I felt the energy shoot up again.  Could I do it?  Could I actually get in under 1:30:00?  I tried to do mental arithmetic and figure how much my pace could slow and still make the goal.  I gave up as I slurped water at the 2.5 mile station, spilling more on my shirt than I got in my mouth.  My notorious lack of a sense of direction left me wondering why nothing in Cincinnati was looking familiar.  We had crossed the bridge back into Ohio, yet my surroundings still looked like northern Kentucky.  It wasn't until I got to the three mile mark and we started to cross the big bridge that I realized that other bridge had been over the Licking River and we were still in Kentucky.  Yeah, this is why I never leave home without my phone and MapQuest app. 


As we crossed we were saluted with honks and waves from a guy in a cement mixer and the driver of the train going the opposite direction.  Once over the bridge into Ohio I knew I was past the halfway mark.  I glanced at my watch and the time was under 41 minutes.  Holy crap!  I was still on pace.  A little more Green Day, a little more jogging, a little more adrenaline when I lumbered past the skinny bitch in the pink jogging skirt.  Okay, she may have been a perfectly nice lady, but she was thin and had nice legs and probably would have made fun of me in high school, so I used my bitterness to my advantage. 

By mile four we were back near the stadium and the spectators had increased significantly.  So did my anxiety.  I slowed down to a walk again and tried to figure out if I could reach my goal without any canine cavorting.  Then I thought, "To hell with it."  I caught my breath, then went back to my ungainly gallop.  At mile five I texted my husband for the last time.  All that fiddling with the phone and its case and trying to type was slowing me down even more and I needed all the seconds I could get.  I shoved the phone case in my pocket and checked my watch.  It read an hour and six minutes.  A few quick calculations and I realized I could walk the last 1.2 miles at a very moderate 3.2 m.p.h. and still come in under 1:30:00.  I couldn't believe it.  I could make it.

As "I'm Too Sexy" by Right Said Fred blared in my ears I started to get worried.  What if I suddenly hit the wall?  What if some muscle decided to pop and I could only limp the rest of the way?  I had visions of me crawling to the finish line as all the skinny bitches ran past me and my goal slipped away.  I started to jog again.  By that point I probably looked like I was wearing ankle weights, my feet fighting gravity with each step.  I chugged up the tiny incline on Pete Rose Way that now felt as steep as Mt. Everest.  The six mile marker was in sight.  I could make it.  I think I can, I think I can...  OK, only two-tenths of a mile.  I inhaled deeply and slowed down to a walk.

Up ahead I could see the "Finish Swine".  I was gonna do it!  I looked to my left and could see my cheering section.  I waved my arms at them and then saw their looks of recognition as they picked me out of the crowd.  I gave them two thumbs-up as I walked past and there are few times in my life when I've been quite that happy.  I intended to just walk across the line, but in my peripheral vision I caught one last bouncing Barbie coming up on the inside.  With a final jolt of adrenaline, I scuttled away from her and across the line.

I tried to catch my breath as a teenage boy put the medal around my neck and another guy handed me a Mylar blanket.  I'm sure I looked like an idiot, smiling to myself as I wandered into the recovery area practically jumping up and down.  I slurped a cup of Gatorade and grabbed a bottle of water.  My cheerleaders were to meet me outside this participants-only area.  I didn't see them, so I took the opportunity to email my mommy.  My official time, I found out later, was 1:21:41.  I honest to God didn't think it was possible.  I didn't think I could move that well if I had a zombie on my ass and a donut truck in front of me.

So, do I consider myself a great athlete now?  Not hardly.  The real athletes were crossing the finish line before I hit the first water station.  It never was about me being fast or good compared to anyone else.  It was me compared to a past me, By-Default-Girl.  I remember trying to do Jane Fonda's workout tape when I was in high school, her second one that had an aerobic section about three minutes long.  I couldn't do it.  I had no stamina whatsoever.  That certainly didn't improve as I got older.  My joy isn't because I did something no one else could do.  It's because I did something I didn't think I could do.  And there's magic in that, I tell you.  Magic.

FAVORITE HAUNTED PLACES - KINGS ISLAND

Kings Island amusement park opened in Mason, Ohio when I was two years old and it's been one of my favorite places my entire life.  (It also happens to be the location of my favorite Brady Bunch episode and my favorite Partridge Family episode and I am not obsessed.)  I had known for a long time that there was a cemetery on the grounds (specifically in the parking lot), but it wasn't until a Ghost Adventures episode piqued my curiosity that I actually ventured in there myself.

This small cemetery is maintained by Deerfield Township and is known as The Dog Street Cemetery, Union Methodist Cemetery, Dill Graveyard, and The J.D. Hoff Farm Cemetery.  The graves date between 1828 and 1869, with approximately 70 people interred and 50 tombstones still standing.  This map shows the Kings Island land in 1867, with the yellow square representing the cemetery on the Dill farm.

Missouri Jane's tombstone.

As for ghosts, stories have been making the rounds for decades.  The most prominent (and featured in the Ghost Adventures episode) concerns the spirit of a little girl in an old-fashioned blue dress who has been seen in the parking lot, around the front gate, and in the International Restaurant. She is sometimes known as "Tram Girl", as she is often seen by the tram drivers transporting patrons to their cars at closing time.  One tale says she is the spirit of a young girl who drowned in a lake located on the farm.  Some folks have made the link between the ghost and a tombstone in the cemetery belonging to five year old Missouri Jane.  Some of the Ghost Adventures investigators chose to look for her by calling out for "Missouri Jane."  If the ghost is, in fact, some other little girl it's no wonder she didn't make an appearance for the cameras.  Girls are not thrilled with people who get their names wrong.

If you see the Ghost Adventures episode, be aware there are some hefty factual errors.  At the beginning the Kings Island rep stated that there had been a munitions plant on the property and that a 1942 explosion killed hundreds of people.  Later a couple of the investigators went into the graveyard and the female stated that there was a gun powder factory on the grounds and an explosion in 1890 killed 50 people and a lot were buried there.  The Kings Great Western Powder Works did indeed have an explosion in 1890.  However, the blast killed about a dozen people and it was not located on the Kings Island property but about a mile away.  I know of no explosions which took place in 1942 in the area, let alone one that killed hundreds.  And since the newest tombstone in the cemetery is from 1869, obviously none of the inhabitants died in the explosion. 

 
In addition to the little girl in blue, there are also tales of a ghost haunting the Eiffel Tower, a spirit who hangs around The Racers roller coaster, and miscellaneous sounds, sights, and flying objects.  Kings Island has been the scene of some real life tragedies including the death of a high school senior in 1983 after a fall from the Eiffel Tower.  (Some refer to the ghost seen around the structure as "Tower Johnny.")  Other documented deaths include two men who were electrocuted in a pond, a woman who died after falling from the Flight Commander ride, and a ranger who was mauled by lions after leaving his vehicle in the Lion Country Safari.

I personally have had no strange experiences at Kings Island outside of the usual antics of obnoxious teenagers.  Well, there was one kind of strange thing.  Over the summer my brother and his family were visiting from St. Louis and we went to this cemetery.  I got out my trusty iPhone with the Ghost Hunter M2 app and turned on the EVP analyzer.  I got a number of words as I wandered the cemetery.  As I mentioned in a previous post I don't necessarily believe this $.99 piece of software is a phone to the spirit world, but...  My brother has a rather unusual middle name.  For his privacy's sake I won't reveal it, but let's say it's not your classic name like Michael or Paul or Joseph.  As I was in one corner of the fenced cemetery, his middle name appeared on my ghost meter.  If he had a regular old common middle name I'd say coincidence, but since he doesn't (and since that name never appeared on my meter before or since) I'm open to thinking somebody was trying to tell him something.  The ghost wasn't very specific, though, so I don't think my brother got the message.  He's kinda dense that way.

** Unrelated note:  I do not control the content of the ads on my website.  In particular, I want it to be known that any political ads are not an endorsement by me.  I've had candidates from both political parties show up in ads and I don't want readers to think I'm pushing an agenda one way or another.  If you disagree with a candidate shown, please don't hold it against me.  Depending on who it is, I may not like him/her either.


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CHRISTMAS CHARITY CRAFTING

Today my mother, sister, and I took some of our handiwork to one of my favorite charities -- The League for Animal Welfare in Batavia, Ohio.  (Recycled Doggies has to get the #1 spot in my heart, for giving us St. Jimmi, but they both do tremendous work.)  For years now we've been donating craft items for the sale table at the annual Christmas party.  I must confess that I dropped the ball this year.  Usually I have at least a dozen little cross-stitch items that they can sell cheaply as stocking stuffers.  Because of my new-found knitting addiction, I only managed five items.  Luckily my mother and sister picked up the slack.

My mother made three of her small organizing totes in cat or dog fabric.  (I received one for Sweetest Day in a pattern of Airstream trailers.  Heaven...)  I use mine by my bedside to hold my iPod, lip balm, tissues, etc., all in handy little interior pockets.

My sister (The Inmates' Uncle Chester) provided handcrafted wire spiral bracelets with dog or cat charms.

She also donated handmade lever back earrings with beads and animal charms.  Other homemade-y goodness from Chester can be found in her Etsy shop here.

And then my donation, rather paltry this year.  I always do cross-stitch items and managed two holiday cards with needlework inserts, two cat-themed bookmarks, and a Scottie dog Christmas hand towel.  I swear in 2012 I'm gonna do one item a month so that I'm sure to have a nice group of items come November.

The Inmates always enjoy going to the League and seeing the animals.  We can only say "hi" to the dogs through glass, but we are free to wander in and play with kitties in the cat rooms.

Ack!  Not the Dooney!  That cat was loving
Grandma's purse strap.

 

I made the mistake of telling Foghorn that I've had my eye on a blue-tick coon hound mix named "Confetti" who looks a lot like our St. Jimmi and I want to adopt her so I'll have a set of bookends.  That led to Foghorn promising me everything under the sun if I'd take Confetti home today.  She doesn't realize that, despite my stern voice and practical arguments, I'm always dying to bring a new addition home and it was all I could do not to start filling out paperwork.  We have two cats and two dogs as it is.  One more critter, on top of the Inmates, would push The Vulcan over the edge.  (It might actually be fun to watch his breakdown.  Yet another reason to consider that dog...)


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I HEART ROVING ACRES YARN

Back in September I wrote about the scarf I made for my mother from yarn she picked out at the Wool Gathering in Yellow Springs, Ohio.  It was a gorgeous variegated yarn from Roving Acres, a family farm in Ohio, and I feared not having enough to finish the scarf so I bought two skeins.  The scarf only took one and I left it up to my mother to decide what she'd like me to make with the other.

She chose a cowl, but most of the patterns I saw took too much yarn.  Turns out she made her own cowl from fabric last year, just a simple piece of material sewn together to make a circle.  I used her cloth cowl for the measurements and then tweaked a scarf pattern from Bernat (found here).  I used smaller needles than called for and added stitches to increase the width.  I then knitted until...well...until I ran out of yarn.  The edges were sewn together to form a circle.  It's smaller than most cowls out there, but just the right size for my mother's needs.  The finished product is 8-1/2" wide and 29" long doubled (or 58" total).  (Complete notes can be found on my Ravelry page here.)

Now, a word about that yarn.  I'm in LOVE with it.  I fondled many skeins at the Roving Acres booth at the Wool Gathering before my mother chose these particular colors.  The yarn is a worsted weight alpaca/merino wool and it's just delicious!  It's warm and wooly, but not scratchy at all.  And the hand-dyeing is just gorgeous.  After making two projects with their yarn I just couldn't take it anymore and had to get some for myself for a hat/scarf project.  Beth at Roving Acres was wonderful to work with and dyed for me the exact color of variegated yarn I wanted.  (They also have an Etsy shop here.)  I wanted shades of gray, from very light up to charcoal, and it came out beautiful.  I'm busily clicking away on the hat.  Hopefully I'll have the finished product to show in a week or two (before the first snow flies, preferably).

It's so nice to get back to working on an adult project after many weeks of creating Christmas stockings.  It's like that giddy feeling that a mother gets when she can finally pick up a novel of her choice after 5,298 readings of Goodnight, Moon.  Priceless...


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THINGS TO DO IN CINCINNATI - SPRING GROVE CEMETERY

When thinking about fun, family-friendly activities in the Fall you probably don't think cemeteries (unless you have a ghost meter and a paranormal investigator license).  If the cemetery of choice is Spring Grove Cemetery and Arboretum, however, the outing switches from the macabre to the beautiful.

Located minutes from downtown Cincinnati, Spring Grove  is America's second-largest cemetery and a National Historic Landmark.  The original intention was to have a park-like cemetery, close to the city, with a natural setting that would have a contemplative atmosphere.  Over 165 years after the first interment, Spring Grove still lives up to that original goal.  It encompasses 733 acres with 15 lakes, a waterfall, 1200 species of trees and shrubs, and 44 miles of paved, winding roadways. It was on one of these beautiful lakes that Uncle Chester learned you should never cheerily call, "Here, swanny, swanny," unless you want that particular fowl to swim over and attempt to peck your nose off.

Besides the lush surroundings, there are also the burial monuments themselves.  Some of the most well-known and rich Cincinnatians are buried there, with ornate statues, mausoleums, and obelisks at every turn.  And if you're a Dark Shadows fan it doesn't take much imagination to feel like you're at Collinwood, hanging around the mausoleum of Barnabus and his clan.

Among the famous buried at Spring Grove are:

• Salmon Chase - Ohio Governor, Senator, Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, Secretary of the Treasury under Lincoln, and founder of the I.R.S.
• Powell Crosley - Cincinnati Reds owner, inventor, and television pioneer.
• Andrew Erkenbrecher - Founder of the Cincinnati Zoo.
• Charles Fleischmann -- Of Fleischmann's Yeast fame.
• James Gamble and William Procter- Founders of Procter & Gamble.
• Robert Gibson - Founder of Gibson Greeting Cards.
• Joseph Hooker - Famous Civil War General for the Union side (and remembered more for his role in prostitutes being nicknamed "hookers").
• Theodore M. Berry - Cincinnati's first African-American mayor.
• Alexander McGuffy - Co-Author, with his brother, of the McGuffy Reader series.
• George Stearns - Co-Founder of Stearns & Foster Mattress Co.
• Waite Hoyt - Major League Baseball player and long-time Cincinnati Reds announcer.

This is hardly a comprehensive list.  There are literally hundreds of well-known politicians, medical professionals, and business owners of all kinds buried there, including lots in the brewery field.  (Cincinnati has always been a beer-drinking city.)  Spring Grove is also the resting spot for the founders of many of Cincinnati's department stores including Shillito's, Pogues, McAlpin's, and Mabley & Carew.








I also give you a few of the lesser known occupants, but ones which give me a particular thrill:

Mr. Miller was a singer and a bandleader and, most important, wrote the "Uh, oh, Spaghetti-O's" jingle.

Mr. Mulford was a pioneer sports editor and coined the term "baseball fan."

I've been to the touring exhibit of Titanic memorabilia 6 or 7 times, so naturally I have to love Ms. Stone, Cincinnati's own Titanic survivor.

That statue looks just like my dog, Frank, when he sees me packing suitcases.  I want him staring longingly at me for eternity.

This looks so much like me at the end of the day that I want a small scale model to put on my fireplace mantel.

We tried desperately to find the grave of Dick Von Hoene, but had to  give up the search.  By that point in the day I had two hot and grouchy children, one tired mother, and Chester, just being herself.  Those outside the Cincinnati viewing area probably won't known who the hell Dick Von Hoene was, but for folks around here in the 70s he will be remembered as "The Cool Ghoul."  Since I couldn't find his grave, I give you a clip instead:

For more information on Spring Grove Cemetery & Arboretum, please check out their website here.   Be sure to stop in the office.  They have some great pamphlets and informational sheets including a self-guided walking tour and a list of  notable burials, including the section number.  They also have a couple maps online here.  They are open 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. every day.  From May through August they are open late on Mondays and Thursdays until 8 p.m.  Spring Grove is located at 4521 Spring Grove Avenue, Cincinnati, Ohio  45232.

Although we always seem to visit in the autumn, it's a beautiful place for spring flowers in bloom or a summer stroll.  Heck, I bet it's even beautiful in winter with a layer of snow on the angel statues.  Enjoy!








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{this moment}

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. -- Inspired by SouleMama

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YARN, ART, AND A FABULOUS WEIGHT WATCHERS CAKE RECIPE

On this dreary and rainy Monday here in Ohio I'm not feeling very wordy.  Gasp!  She who can write three paragraphs about her husband's holey underwear can't seem to find the vocabulary to describe the weekend.  This may have something to do with the aforementioned weather or the allergies that are making everyone's sinuses go wild or the fact that I decided today was the day I had to get back on the Weight Watchers wagon and really count my Points.  (That last one has an accompanying sugar withdrawal that tends to make me sprout horns and has The Inmates running for cover.)

So, with few words and lotsa color, I give you The Warden's Weekend:

On Saturday, the annual Wool Gathering in Yellow Springs, Ohio.

Tents full of yarn, supplies, and lots of demonstrations.

I love those supercilious llamas.

A nekkid sheep following the shearing demonstration.

Foghorn's favorite?  Getting a free chunk of fresh wool, still damp with lanolin.

Totally intimidated by those who not only knit but card and spin their own yarn.  Ack!

Foghorn making friends with the suppliers.

The Gathering takes place on the gorgeous grounds of Young's Dairy...

and they happen to sell ice cream that's out of this world.

Two hunks of merino/alpaca hand-dyed yarn from Ohio's  Roving Acres, waiting to be knit into a scarf for my mother.

On Sunday, the annual Loveland Art Show. 

All types of artisans and all types of goodies, from glass...

to pottery...

to sculpture.  (Mermaid-obsessed Foghorn's favorite.)

And, of course, the student art contest.  Foghorn had a lot of competition.

Of her two entries, WE actually thought the toucan (pictured in above photo on bottom left) was superior...

but the judges preferred her clown -- a mix of paint, marker, and paper mache hair.  The winner!

And while waiting for the judges' decision, Foghorn constructed a fairy house under a tree.

Habitat for Humanity Fairies.

As for that promised recipe, yesterday my mother made a Weight Watchers two-ingredient cake from a recipe that's been floating around the Internet.  It uses a box of cake mix and a can of diet soda.  As you can imagine, the combinations are endless.  My mother made a white cake with a lemon-lime soda and topped with a light cream cheese and lemon frosting.  GOOD!  Not so good I'd binge on the entire cake, but definitely good enough to take the edge off a cake craving.  You can get the full recipe at her blog, Lillian's Cupboard, here.

With the ugly weather today, I wish I could go curl up in bed with one of those wooly sheep and just sleep away.  I'll have to settle for a hound dog...or two...


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