Brown-Eyed Girl

So, it's no secret that the Irishman wants more kids. Exactly one more if we're being specific. Personally, I'm currently quite content with Parker. He really does it for me. He's a great, mellow kid who's bright as can be with a sparkling personality (can you tell I'm smitten?) Yup, Parker is pretty much the love of my life and I like the dynamic that my little family has. However, if it was just about the family dynamic, I would probably have a fighting chance of ending this debate tomorrow, but it's not just that my husband wants another child. He really wants a daughter.

I would like to enter Exhibit A here.



Awww, what a sweet little thing. I really was too. I'm told that I was the easiest baby in the world and just the calmest little kid ever. But then, something happened. I turned 7 and all hell broke loose. I was falling from tree houses and climbing barbwire fences because my brother dared me to (and slitting my wrist in the process). Then there was the time that my mom was casually drinking her afternoon coffee in our summer house when she looked over to see me scampering down the side of the mountain (it would have been about a thousand foot fall if I'd slipped). I would regularly race my cousins without a second thought (in flip flops) and would often come home bruised and bloodied from the days events.

As if the daredevil in me wasn't enough, then I hit 12 and I was pure attitude. What made it harder was that I was a smart kid, so I never screwed up enough to get into real trouble, just enough to push the envelope (and my parents buttons). I had a stubborn streak the size of Texas and I wasn't afraid of anything on this earth (aliens were my only fear, but that's another post for another day). I don't think I snapped out of my "me against the world" phase until I was in my early 20s. By then, I was in college and having a grand old time. The good news for my parents was that by this point, my mom could just pretend that I was safely tucked into bed at 9pm every night.

I have two points here. (1) Even with all of that, I was a pretty good kid. Imagine would a bad kid would have put their parents through? (2) While I can understand why the Irishman wants a sweet little girl to look up at him with her big doe eyes, he grew up with a brother and he has no earthly clue how soon he would switch from blond to gray if he had a daughter of his own.

Am I completely dead set against another child? No. Would I equally adore a daughter if I were to have one. Absolutely. And I would start going to church immediately because the female offspring of the Irishman and myself would be a force to be reckoned with. Heaven help us all.

Surprise!

Yesterday, I had a birthday. My husband, wanting to make sure that the big 3-0 was memorable, planned a surprise out of town trip for us. As many of you probably already know, I don't do surprises really well. They require you to hand complete control over to someone else. Yeah, that's not really my thing, but I know that the Irishman spent a long time planning this trip and was really excited about it, so I put my control freak tendencies aside and set out to enjoy myself.

We left Friday evening and headed towards the east coast. I brought a book along for the ride so that I wouldn't be constantly second guessing our destination and I settled in to find out where the road (and the Irishman) would take me. I fell asleep at some point after Gainesville and woke up intermittently to the Irishman cursing the GPS under his breath. We got to our destination (which I didn't figure out until the following morning because I was so tired) and we headed upstairs to our hotel room to crash.

The next morning, the Irishman thought that I was playing dumb about not knowing where I was (we saw an Everybody Loves Raymond episode the day before where the wife fakes being surprised), but truly, I was unaware until I wandered over to the fridge and saw the "Sea World Resort" brochure suspended by a magnet.

So, we were in Orlando and were off to Sea World for some Saturday fun. Here is a pictoral journey of our first day of vacation.

Parker is very excited about being at Sea World (oh, and pay no attention to the Irishman squatting down next to the whale trying to stay out of the picture. Little does he know that the insanely bright gold of his favorite t-shirt makes him impossible to miss. Note to self, burn the yellow shirt.)



"Hey mom, shouldn't you be up here with us?"



Check out the Budweiser Clydesdales.



Parker changed into his surfer boy gear to go watch some of the shows that involved getting soaked.



He decided to make a small detour to the sandbox while we were waiting for the Killer Whale show to begin.



Here are some crazy flips by Shamu #124 at the Shamu Show. This was like X-Games for marine life. The Irishman thought it would be a great idea if he and Parker sat in the splash zone at the show (I declined the honor of getting drenched by 30 degree salt water. Call me crazy). Well, Parker decided that it wasn't such a great idea either and promptly flipped out when he got soaked.





After Parker recovered from the Shamu soaking, he changed back into his regular clothes and decided that it was time for a musical break. Note to self: do not allow Parker to ever talk you into a drum set.



Then we went into the Shark Encounter aquarium. I think this was Parker's favorite because we walked through a huge tunnel under the tanks so it gave the illusion that fish were swimming all around you.







After the Shark Encounter, it was time for our Arctic Expedition, which was a behind the scences tour of the Arctic Exhibit. This was the last thing we were going to do for the day.

First, we saw a beluga whale.



Then, Parker promply passed out for the rest of the tour.



This polar bear was huge!



We also saw some penguins.



And we got a chance to pet them. Notice that I am angled far away from the penguins backside. That's because we were informed (and witnessed) that they are projectile poopers. Yuck!



The penguin building was a brisk 55 degrees, which woke Parker up from his slumber just in time to pet a penguin.



The next day (my actual birthday), we woke up bright and early and headed off to our second destination. This turned out to be Discovery Cove and the whole reason that we were in Orlando to begin with. You see, I have always wanted to go swimming with dolphins. Like most 10 year old girls, I was convinced that I was going to be a dolphin and killer whale trainer. I'm not sure why I didn't pursue it (I'm sure some guidance counselor disuaded me from it), but I never lost my fascination of dolphins and whales.

I didn't get that many pictures at Discovery Cove because we spent almost the entire day in the water. There was a huge coral reef that was teeming with marine life, including huge sting rays that would swim right up against you. I have to say, that was a little bit disconcerting, but very cool. Then there was the highlight of the day, the dolphin encounter. We got to spend about 30 minutes in the water with them learning about them and feeling their rubbery skin.

The climax of the dolphin experience was swimming out about 50 feet and being towed back into the shallow waters while holding onto the dorsel fin. It was amazing to feel how strong these guys really are. It was really an incredible experience.

Here are some pictures outside of the dolphin lagoon.

(Can you tell that Parker had a long day?)









All in all, it was a great birthday weekend. I came back with lots of sun and memories thanks to my very thoughtful husband (whose Irish skin is not so fond of the sun). Now, please excuse me while I look into going back to school to be a dolphin trainer.

Weekly Soundtrack

Sunday: Cyndi Lauper, Girls Just Want To Have Fun

Monday: Sublime, What Happened?

Tuesday: Eagles, Hotel California

Wednesday: Sheryl Crow, My Favorite Mistake

Thursday: Guns N' Roses, Patience

Friday: Aerosmith, Dream On

Tomato Bisque Soup

There's a restaurant by campus that makes the best tomato bisque soup. When I was teaching a class around lunch time, I would swing by once or twice a week and get this very delectable treat. The problem with having had such easy access to this soup was that once the semester was over, I started to crave it. Badly. So, rather than spend $50 a month in gas money driving to and from the restaurant, I set out to duplicate the recipe as best I could. After numerous incarnations (I was eating tomato soup and grilled cheese for weeks during the expiremental phase), I finally got it so close that I can hardly remember what the original tastes like. And now I'm sharing it with you. I know, my generosity astounds me as well.

Ok, here are the ingredients: Can of roasted tomatoes, celery, onion, carrot, garlic, vegetable/chicken broth, bay leaf, basil, heavy cream/half and half.



After you veggies are chopped (about 1 stalk of celery, 1 carrot and 1 small onion), we're going to put about 1/2 cup of olive oil in the pot over medium-low heat and saute the onion, carrots, celery and garlic until softened (about 10 minutes). You want them to look like this.



Next we're going to add our fire roasted tomatoes (I cut them up as I add them to the pot), chicken broth, 1 bay leaf and 2 tablespoons of butter.



Simmer an additional 15-20 until veggies are really tender. While it's simmering, I'm going to go ahead and chop my basil.



Once 20 minutes have passed, I'm going to throw in my basil and add a 1/2 cup of half and half. (Heavy cream would probably be better, but I never have it on hand whereas I always have half and half for my coffee).



Now, we're going to use this nifty handheld appliance. It's an immersion blender (you immerse it in liquid and blend) and it's really useful for smoothing soups.



If you don't have one, don't stress. Just pour your soup in a blender, make sure the lid is on nice and tight, and puree it for a couple of seconds. I happen to be married, which means that someone gave me this as a wedding present.

Ok, so the key to the immersion blender is to make sure that it is actually immersed completely, otherwise you'll have a lovely mess on your hands. (Is anyone counting how many times I've used the word immersed?)



Once you've finished blending, you are ready to eat. Doesn't this look simply delish? Notice the little bits of basil that add lovely basily flavor to every single bite.



The good news around here is that the Irishman is not a tomato soup fan. Weird, I know, but that means that I get the entire pot to myself and really, little in this world makes me happier than tomato soup and grilled cheese.

Introspection

Parker is quite the character. There are so many sides to his personality. He can be loud, funny and attention seeking (he gets that from the Irishman), but he can also be calm, serious and introspective (that would be my genetic contribution). Not surprisingly, I kind of like it when he's introspective. I often wonder what he's thinking when he's wearing his serious expression. In this particular picture, notice the placement of the finger near the lip. I'm pretty sure this means that he's deep in thought. Is he contempating world peace? Wishing that he'd been adopted into Angelina Jolie's family? While those are both distinct possibilities, he's probably just wondering if he should eat the last of the Cheerios or throw them on the ground. He's really deep that way.

The Final Countdown

I looked at my calendar yesterday and realized that it's September. I don't know where the summer went, but all of my training up to this point has been pre-conditioning. Now, it's time to get serious.

When I began this marathon journey, I had 9 months to train for it. That felt like an eternity. I mean, you can create a new life in that time. Well, we're down to 4 months now and it's time to put my 20 week marathon training plan into action. I'm going to start training with my marathon coach on Wednesday mornings and follow that workout with both a cycling and a swimming workout. I need to start tracking my mileage and my calories (to make sure that I'm getting enough) and I need to start planning my weekly menus again.

I'm kicking my late Saturday nights to the curb as well. While they've been a source of ample entertainment, it's hard to transition back into work mode after a late night. So, late nights out, senior citizen schedule back in. I gave Parker the memo that I'm going to need him to sleep through the night, but thus far, he's ignoring it. Truly, that's the only kink in my plan - I need to sleep to be able to (1) get in 30+ miles in a week and (2) wake up at the crack of dawn to do it.

Sleep or no sleep, it's time to just do it because we've reached The Final Countdown.

Safety First

This weekend was very long, but definitely a lot of fun. I attended my motorcycle safety course from 8-5pm on both Saturday and Sunday. The course is necessary to obtain your motorcycle endorsement on your driver's license, but I planned on taking it anyway so that I would learn how to ride the correct way.

I wasn't really sure what to expect, so I put on my motorcycle boots and jeans and went into the class with an open mind. Not surprisingly, I was the only female in the class and was regarded with open curiosity when I walked into the classroom. The class was a mix of experienced and new riders with ages ranging from 19 to 65. Although the course is intended for beginning riders, the others had to take the course in order to get their motorcycle endorsement since a new law in Florida states that anyone caught riding a motorcycle without it has to surrender their license for 3 months.

The first part of the course was conducted in the classroom. We learned the technical aspects of operating a motorcycle along with information about riding safely and wearing the appropriate gear. After a break for lunch, we headed out to the riding range and were assigned the motorcycle that we would be learning on. I ended up with a Suzuki GZ250, which weighed about 300 lbs. I would be lying if I didn't say that a was a little bit nervous. I felt compelled to be competent right off the bat because of the stereotypes that these guys associated with women who ride. Fortunately, it became apparent pretty quickly that one of the guys had already been designated as the worst rider out there (he almost ran over one of the instructors in the first hour).

We started off very slowly. Motorcycles have manual transmissions so a lot of the beginning lessons were learning to use the "friction zone" (letting the clutch out just far enough that power is transferred to the rear tire) while keeping our feet hovering just above the ground. At this point, I was very grateful that I've been driving manual cars for over a decade. The concept of easing off of the clutch and rolling on the throttle came easily to me while the individuals who had never driven a stick were having a really hard time remembering to do so many things at once.

Once we got everyone up to speed with that, it was time to ride the motorcycles. The most nerve wracking moment for me was the first time that I lifted my feet completely off of the ground and put them onto the pegs. Since I didn't grow up with bikes around, there was a lot of trust involved with me assuming that the bike would stay upright. Not surprisingly, the faster we went, the more solid the bike felt. And then I noticed something else. This was a blast! It kind of felt like riding a roller coaster that I could control. Don't worry though, above all else, I was completely aware of the fact that the only thing between me and the pavement was staying focused on what I was doing and using my head. It was both an exhilarating as well as a sobering moment.

The technical part of the course was meant to simulate real riding conditions, so we learned how to negotiate tight turns (the hardest thing to do), swerve around obstacles, shifting through the gears and braking quickly. I have to say that staying completely focused on learning a new skill for 5 hours is exhausting! Add in the fact that we were in 90 degree sunny weather wearing boots, jeans, long sleeve shirts and helmets standing on a huge asphalt slab - yeah, let's just say that I was pretty tired at the end of the day. I definitely felt a sense of accomplishment driving home from the first day. Riding a motorcycle is something that I have always wanted to do and it's a good feeling to overcome your fears while reaching your goal.

When I arrived the second day, everyone was really friendly as I had earned my place in the class by riding well and being a good sport about being the only woman there. During the second day, we spent the classroom time learning how to avoid accidents. I learned a lot of valuable information and one very important statistic that should make my mom feel much better. 90% of the people who are in motorcycle accidents were either self taught or taught by a friend. In other words, they never learned how to ride properly and safely. Also, the vast majority of motorcycle accidents happen when someone pulls out in front of you. By keeping a 4 second margin of safety around you and anticipating which cars have the potential to pull out, most accidents can be avoided.

The technical skills part of class also focused on street scenarios. The day got off to an exciting start as the aforementioned worst student in the class confused his throttle for his break and went flying off the side of the course, down a ditch and into a swamp. After we saw that both he and the bike were ok, we made fun of him for the rest of the day. I'm just so glad that it wasn't me! After the excitement was over, we learned how to change lanes, jump obstacles (they literally threw 2x4s on the range that we had to jump), and lean into curves (which was my favorite thing to do). Going fast through a curve is a lot of fun once you realize that your bike will not fall over. Modern motorcycles are engineered in such a way that it is virtually impossible to over lean on them in dry conditions.

At the end of the class, we had to take our skills test. I won't lie, I was really worried about failing. You can only miss a certain number of points and they take off points for going too slow, crossing a line, hitting a cone, etc... Plus, all of the other students are lined up watching you perform. Blessedly, I only crossed the line once and it was during the tight figure eights that were giving me problems all day. So, I passed with a 94% (anything below a 78% is failing), which means that I can go down to the DMV tomorrow morning and get my motorcycle endorsement on my license! Hopefully, this is the beginning of a long and happy riding relationship.