Author Archives: dkrashb

All I Want for Christmas is World Peace

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I would very much like to think of myself as a non-judgmental person.  But then I catch myself saying something like, “that crazy person is so judgmental–s/he thinks s/he is better than everyone else” and realize this is a lesson I’ve yet to master.

If you judge people, you have no time to love them.  Mother Theresa

Judgment riles me up, makes me feel righteous, justified, and even vengeful.  It separates me into the “right” and leaves those I judge in the “wrong.”  Having cast judgment, there is no need to listen or consider; all that can follow are proclamations.

Why do I judge?  There are practical reasons to make judgments.  For example, I choose to spell “judgment” with the standard American spelling instead of “judgement,” the standard British spelling.  Which is preferable?

In my case, this simple choice hides a deeper judgment.  I spell it “judgment” because I was taught that Americans who spell it “judgement” are ignorant.  If someone were to comment that I misspelled “judgment,” I could point them to a dictionary and explain that this is the correct American spelling.  I would be left feeling redeemed and, if I am painfully honest, even superior.

What I would not feel is connected to my fellow human being, negotiating the world together in harmony.

Love is the absence of judgment.  The Dalai Lama

What would I lose in giving up my judgments?  Clearly, my judgments benefit me in some way or I wouldn’t make them.  Would I be less smart if I never judged someone else to be stupid?  Would I be less hard working if I never judged anyone else to be lazy?  Would I be less competent if I never judged someone else to be incompetent?  Or do I make these judgments out of fear that I am what I judge?  Is pointing at someone else and calling them names a way of separating myself from what I don’t want to be?

I would hate to be discounted because I made a mistake.  What I would like is to be accepted for a flawed human being with the best of intentions.  What I need is to be heard and understood without being called good or bad.

 The moment that judgment stops through acceptance of what it is, you are free of the mind.  You have made room for love, for joy, for peace.  Eckhart Tolle

And that, dear reader, is what I want for Christmas:  love, joy, and peace.  I arm myself with the awareness that I judge.  I prepare myself to notice when I am judging.  I know that with attention, I can create more space for love, joy, and peace.  And in this gift to myself, I hope I can contribute just a little to a gift to the world:

World peace must develop from inner peace.  Peace is not the absence of violence.  Peace is the manifestation of human compassion.  The Dalai Lama

Why I Don’t Bake Christmas Cookies

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Hello.  My name is Dianne and I’m a sugarholic.  I went for two years without sugar.  Then, a colleague showed up with a box of Thin Mints.  It was so humiliating.  I ate half the box in 15 minutes.  I had to ask her to lock her cookies in a drawer, all the while hoping she would just hand me the other half of the box.

I’ve since learned that total deprivation leads to massive binges.  I try to include healthier indulgences like super dark chocolate and fruit smoothies sweetened only with a little honey.  Occasionally, we buy ice cream, but I only trust myself with a pint at a time.

I once consulted with a nutritionist who had me do an experiment with “limited supply foods.”  She had me choose a snack and portion it into small servings that totaled the number of calories a day I was willing to spend on junk.  Then, I stocked a cabinet next to the fridge with about 2 weeks’ worth of baggies.  I could eat 2 baggies a day and no more, but I had to look at the baggies every time I got a craving and tell myself, “If I run out, I’ll buy more.”

The first day, it was torture.  All I could think about was that cabinet full of goodies calling my name.  By the second day, I was doing better between snacks and didn’t find it so difficult to concentrate on other things.  By the third day, I only remembered to eat 1 baggie.  By the fourth day, I forgot to eat them both.  Those baggies suddenly became a nice surprise when I remembered to open the cabinet instead of a looming fiend trying to corrupt my good intentions.

This was an important lesson that I have since failed to apply:  when I think something is a limited supply, I will eat every bite as fast as possible.  The nutritionist described this as a survivalist response and said it’s common among people who grew up in homes where a particular type of food was restricted.

But how to apply this to holidays and Girl Scouts?  These truly are limited supplies.  My mother-in-law sent Pat and me a box of goodies last week.  It was a large assortment of homemade and German imports.  My half lasted approximately 2 days.  My husband took pity and shared some of his half with me.

Similarly, if I make Christmas cookies, I have a problem with the dough.  Frequently, the dough never makes it into the oven.  And, realistically, me making cookies more than once a year is so far-fetched it’s comical.  So, how do I convince myself that I can get more?

The thing is, I really enjoy these things.  The tradition of celebrating friends and family through indulging in delicious food is one I don’t want to give up.  I just want to be able to enjoy them a little at a time.

Christmas Cards and eMail: Can They Mix?

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On the subject of Christmas, I have a confession to make. I still haven’t sent cards for last year. Maybe not even the year before. I certainly haven’t started on this year’s yet.

I used to always send cards and I sent them far and wide. It didn’t matter if it was a friend I saw daily or a relative I hadn’t seen since I was 12, I was sending a Christmas card. I also didn’t take people off my list if they didn’t send me one.

I’m not sure if the advent of email started making Christmas cards seem less important to me (since I was staying in touch with most of my card list). But, each year, the fun of doing Christmas cards got to be less. Perhaps as my job got busier and busier towards the end of the year I just stopped having time?

Every year, I was sending my cards later and later. I caught some people off guard who had apparently taken me off their card list and were probably irritated when they got a card from me the day before Christmas–suddenly a card would show up from them shortly before New Year’s. Finally, I started buying New Year’s cards and doing them the week between Christmas and New Year’s, when I was usually off work.

But then we started traveling over Christmas. I started trying to do New Years cards on the plane or in the car, knowing that if they didn’t get done by the time we returned, they weren’t going to get done at all.

I can’t recall what happened last year. I just remember the build up of guilt as Christmas cards kept arriving and I still hadn’t gotten around to mine. It was not a Christmasy feeling–the sense of having something I needed to do and putting it off. By the time I got back to work in January, I was still thinking I was going to send New Year’s cards. I still remember the sense of relief when I gave up and said it wasn’t going to happen this year.

This year, I would like to put together a nice letter with photos and email it to friends and family. It shouldn’t be hard to come up with material–at least not since August. 🙂 According to one Christmas Card Etiquette Advisor, eCards do not count as holiday cards. This same advisor, by the way, says that Christmas cards are supposed to be sent the Saturday after Thanksgiving! Is that actually possible?

That said, I’m pretty sure that wedding etiquette advisors would have told us we couldn’t invite our guests with an email titled, “Top 10 Ways to Have an Untraditional Wedding,” but that didn’t stop our guests from showing up. Are people offended when they get an email invitation to a wedding? Are they offended if they receive an email instead of a paper Christmas card? Or is this an etiquette rule created by greeting card companies?

Winter Solstice Anniversary

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Today is our wedding anniversary.  Of the 16 1/2 years we’ve been together, Pat and I have now been married for 5.  Yeah, I know, we were slow to decide to go mainstream.

We were married on the winter solstice in 2006.  I wish I had a great story to tell as to why we got married on the winter solstice, but, it was a complete accident.  It turned out to be a happy accident because had we gotten married on a day that didn’t have an event marked on most calendars, we would completely forget our anniversary.  Unfortunately, it took us a while to figure out the winter solstice doesn’t always fall on the 21st–there’s a good chance we celebrated our 1st anniversary on the wrong day.

Weathering the bad and the good together has been a remarkable experience.  When I think about the expectations I had in my twenties compared to the reality of a 16 1/2 year relationship, I sometimes laugh.  Our culture fills our heads with ridiculous expectations about head-over-heels romance–and simultaneously ignores how love shifts and grows, becoming more powerful over time.

Someone once pointed out to me that fairy tales–both traditional and the modern version (romantic movies)–end when the couple gets together.  All we are told is they “live happily ever after.”  I’m here to tell you that if “ever after” is supposed to mean they lived happily all of the time from that point forward, it ain’t happening.

People are not one dimensional.  We get cranky and scared and irritable and depressed and rude and angry in turn.  There’s no such thing as “a nice person” who isn’t also sometimes annoying, difficult, needy, bossy, or whatever.  And how we see the other person has as much to do with us as it does with them, which is also inconstant.

I often ask myself what makes a relationship work.  When I was young, I wanted fireworks and sweep-me-off-my-feet excitement.  Then I figured out fireworks fizzle and I prefer to walk, but a guy who will help with the laundry and cooking  makes every day better.

I can’t say I’ve really decided what makes a relationship work, but I’m honing in on it gradually.  Here’s my list so far:

1) Mutual respect and admiration.  It’s hard to put up with someone’s foibles if you don’t respect and admire them as they are.  The parts you respect and admire keep you sane when the parts you want to kill surface.  🙂

2) Laughter.  It’s OK if you don’t always get each other’s jokes, but you’ve got to get most of them.

3)  Adventure.  Life can get pretty darn repetitive.  Having some form of adventure together helps keep it interesting.

4) Patience.  Not the kind of patience you have to have for children, but patience with yourself, your life, your spouse.  The patience that allows you to wait and see when you start to get afraid or angry.  The patience that allows you to love each other for who you are in all of your dimensions.

Playing Santa

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‘Tis the season to be jolly, fa la la la la la la la.

Demonstrate our great folly, fa la la la la la la la la.

Ah, Christmas.  Where did the magic go?  The days when I used to agonize over the perfect gift, going store to store to store–returning home frustrated and desperately in need of a nap.  I would put up decorations, wrap every gift with homemade bows.  And I always, always sent Christmas cards.

Then, the circle of friends with whom I exchanged Christmas gifts started to shrink.  As we grew older, there were fewer things we wouldn’t just buy for ourselves if we wanted them.  Besides the occasional bottle of wine in a reusable, decorative bag, we were down to just exchanging gifts with family.

Then, my family had what I like to think of as the “epiphany Christmas.”  We realized that we didn’t know what to get each other and it was silly, as adults to be making lists.  We called a truce on gift buying and agreed just to get the kids gifts.  This simplified shopping and allowed us to focus on the boys, who really made Christmas fun.

But then, my nephews seemed to lose their enthusiasm.  They used to try to stay awake all night so they could catch Santa; now they sleep later and later on Christmas morning.  They used to carefully open each toy, set it aside and play with the box for so long that we’d have to remind them to open the next gift if we wanted to finish in time for lunch.  Now, gift opening barely lasts a half an hour.  And their wish lists get shorter each year.  Until, finally, the youngest stop producing them all together, preferring to be “surprised.”

I have to agree that wish lists feel like cheating.  There’s something really special about a gift that says someone was paying attention to the things you’re interested in or, even better, found the perfect symbol of something special between the two of you.  I love giving gifts when I know I thought of something only I could have thought of and only the receiver can appreciate.  Even if it’s a silly, cheap gift, when it feels like the exact right gift, it really is magical.

The problem is it’s impossible to think of that perfect gift for everyone I know (and remember what it was).  In fact, if I don’t see someone regularly, the probability that I’ll have any clue as to what to give them is so small that it depresses me.  The thought that I know so little about what my father, step mother, brother, sister-in-law, nephews, friends, etc have and don’t have, need and don’t need, want and don’t want serves to remind me that I haven’t been paying enough attention.

Perhaps that will be my New Year’s Resolution–to know the people I love well enough to think of the perfect gift for each of them.

Ask, Don’t Tell

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I am now participating in my Columbus book club virtually via FaceTime.  They have a lazy susan for their iPad so they can spin me to face whoever is talking; it works pretty well.  We’re working on improving our communication skills with the book Nonviolent Communication:  A Language of Life by Marshall Rosenberg.

I find the premise fascinating.  If we can learn to “use our words” (as my mother used to say) compassionately, we can hear each other and connect to one another in new ways.  I am struggling to apply these concepts in my real life.  For example, here is a typical situation:

Reading my email, I discover that someone has still not done something they were supposed to do months ago.  This is the 5th month of exchanging emails and having calls and still seeing no action.  I’m frustrated and stumped.  I immediately think, “What the hell is his problem?  Why is this so difficult?  Why can’t he just do what he’s supposed to do?”

I am judging my colleague as bad.  However, NVC suggests that instead of just reacting, my “words become conscious response based firmly on awareness of what we are perceiving, feeling, and wanting.  We are led to express ourselves with honesty and clarity, while simultaneously paying others a respectful and empathic attention.  In any exchange, we come to hear our own deeper needs and those of others.”

The first step is, according to Rosenberg, to observe behavior.  In this case, I observe that my colleague is not doing his job.  This sets off the NVC alarm–I’m judging what that person’s job is and whether or not he is doing it.  I try again:  I am receiving delayed and incomplete information that implies the customer has been left hanging.

The second step is how do I feel about it?  I’m frustrated, angry, irritated, and worried that the customer is dissatisfied.

Step 3:  what is my need?  This is a hard question.  Why do I feel responsible for how this customer is getting treated by the person who is actually responsible for the relationship?  I will get paid the same regardless, so it’s not money.  It’s unlikely to affect my career in any way.  I guess it’s a core value of mine.  But there is also the fact that I don’t want another fire drill if this drags on too long.

Step 4:  Request concrete actions.  I need to know what the customer’s state of mind is.    I’m just guessing at this point.  I also need to know exactly what this person believes has to happen to reach resolution.  I want him to tell me each step, when it’s going to happen, and what he needs from me so he can get it done.  Then, I want to know it’s done.

As I write this, I realize that I have been telling him what he needs to do.  Maybe I should ask him to tell me what he needs from me?

Grocery Therapy

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Well, dear readers, in response to requests from some of my geographically distant friends who would like to read my blog but just don’t have time, I am going to see if I can keep my entries to under 500 words for a while (not counting this paragraph, of course :-)).  Here I go . . .

I wake up with such an ache in my neck I feel nauseous (or maybe it’s the realization it’s Monday that upsets my stomach?).  I walk around with the weight of my head in my hands, trying to prevent a major spasm.

Throughout the day, no matter how much I keep my head propped on my headrest, the pain increases as I work.  I take a break in the early afternoon to lay on the floor and try to get my muscles to relax.  Then, I try sitting on the couch, which makes every muscle go nuts all over again.

I remember seeing a sign in the window of a local yoga studio advertising some type of therapy I’ve never heard of before.  I go to their website.  It’s called Ortho-Bionomy.  It sounds pretty logical as an approach, so I call and make an appointment.  Unfortunately, I will not be able to get in until tomorrow.  Jann, the therapist, suggests ice and anti-inflammatories in the interim.  I’ve been trying to only take the anti-inflammatories at night so I’m not taking too much of them, but I decide I should take Jann’s advice.  I take aspirin and prop an ice pack on my neck while I work.

I make it to the end of the day, and even manage to get all my online Christmas shopping done before I have to get away from the computer.

It’s late and we have no food.  I walk to the grocery store alone since Pat is preoccupied.  I plan to only pick up enough for dinner, but I end up getting milk and soy milk and yogurt and coffee and . . . I have only 2 grocery bags with me, figuring I can balance the load for the walk home to avoid irritating my neck further.

I look at the full cart and worry I’m going to be in agonizing pain walking the block home.  However, the aspirin, ice, and the walk over here seemed to have helped quite a bit–my neck feels better than it felt all day.  I decide to risk it.

I pay for the groceries–can I just ask, why is GreenLife/Whole Foods so freaking expensive?  Aren’t they supposed to be sourcing directly from local farmers?  Shouldn’t that make their groceries less expensive?

In any case, I divide the groceries carefully, distributing the weight evenly between the two bags.  I carry one bag on each shoulder and then walk home.  Amazingly, the weight of the bags pulling my shoulders down actually feels really good.  As long as I don’t turn my head, it helps.

When I get home, I heat up the stuffed pasta shells I bought and feed me and Pat.  It’s hot and good.  My neck is feeling more functional than I would have thought possible just an hour earlier.  Maybe I shouldn’t complain about the prices at Whole Foods since buying groceries turned out to be physical therapy as well?

Pain in the Neck

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The alarm goes off at 5:30AM even though it’s Sunday morning–I have to remind myself we’re going hang gliding.  I get out of bed feeling stiff and sore.  My right shoulder and the right side of my neck are especially sore.  I move my head gently trying to loosen things up.  Then, I get the coffee brewing and start on my morning routine.

When I lean over the sink to wash my face, the entire right side of my neck goes into muscle spasms.  I can barely hold my head up long enough to rinse the soap off my face.  My shoulder is likewise screaming–stabbing pain shoots down my right arm.  I reach up with my hands and hold the weight of my head in them.  Carrying my head, I walk into the living room and, as carefully as possible, lay down on the floor.  With the weight of my head supported, the pain lessens.  Instead of feeling like someone is stabbing me in the neck with a slightly dull knife, I feel like the stabbing has stopped and now I’m just in pain.  I lay there and think, “Oh. I am not going hang gliding today.”  Apparently I paddled my kayak unevenly yesterday.

I manage to get up off the floor after about 10 minutes, get a cup of coffee and move to my office chair where I can prop my head on the headrest.  This feels good, although I’m still very ouchy–I try not to move my head in any direction that offsets the weight of my head from directly over my neck.  I drink my coffee with my left hand so as to prevent using my right shoulder by accident.

Turns out my eye-hand coordination is even worse with my left hand and I dump hot coffee down my chin, onto my shirt and into my lap.  I’m in too much pain to worry about it.  Since I’m wearing dark fleece, I figure the stains won’t show much.  I wipe my chin off with the back of my hand and keep sipping coffee.

Pat gets up and I explain to him what’s going on.  I decide I will get ready to go just in case by some miracle my neck rights itself by the time we get there.  If it doesn’t, I will drive the Kubota and tow hang gliders.  If it does, I will fly.

The hardest part is putting on shirts over my head.  But, I need multiple layers to stay warm driving the Kubota, so I suffer through.  I pull on my down jacket before pulling on my rain jacket.  My rain jacket is still stained from the mud I drug myself through last Sunday.  I make a mental note to wash it when we get back.

The drive to the training hills is so uncomfortable I worry that I won’t even be able to drive the Kubota.  But, given that there won’t be any traffic passing me, I won’t have to worry about looking over my shoulder before changing lanes, so I think I might be OK.

It’s still in the 20’s when we get there.  The sun is rising, but the almost full moon hasn’t set yet.  I attempt to take a picture of the moon hanging just above the horizon over the small hill.  I have only my iPhone and I use a camera app with zoom.  Unfortunately, I guess I don’t know how to save the picture from this app because it disappears on me.

I help Pat assemble his glider by reading the directions to him so he doesn’t have to put his reading glasses on.  I don’t even attempt to bend over to do any actual assembling.  So far, as long as I turn my whole body when  I want to look at something, I’m doing OK.

When the first pilot is ready, which turns out to be Pat, I pull up the Kubota and let him load his glider.  When we get to the top of the hill, I hold the nose while he gets down and picks the glider up instead of taking the glider off the trailer myself.  I won’t be carrying any gliders today; that much is for sure.

I make several more runs back and forth picking up 5 more gliders and students.  By the time I’m done, there are already 3 students at the bottom of the hill waiting for a ride back up to the top.  One has given up and is walking his glider up.  I circle around and start picking up students and gliders and driving them back up top.  With 6 flying and a 7th on his way, I can’t seem to keep up.

By the time the 7th student looks ready, I need to use the facilities.  I hand the Kubota over to Pat to drive while I walk down to check on the last student and use the outhouse.  With everyone off on the hills, I opt for the woods over the outhouse–much more pleasant.  Then, I get on the four wheeler to tow the last student out to the hill.

I’ve never driven a four wheeler before.  The angle is bad for my neck, but not so bad that I’m not going to drive it.  The shifter is like a motorcycle–down at my left foot.  The other student keeps telling me to raise it up to put it in gear.  I keep telling him I can’t find the clutch, but he can’t hear me.  What should be the clutch doesn’t squeeze like one.  I finally turn around so he can hear me and he informs me that there is no clutch.  I’m a little confused as to why it has a shifter like that with no clutch, but sure enough it works.  The accelerator, however, is like a waverunner–a tiny little lever that you push with your thumb.  When I push it, I have trouble accelerating gently and I jerk the trailer hard.  I’m sure that student number 7 is wishing he had just driven himself up by now.

As the wind starts to pick up, there is a pause in the flights.  I actually get ahead on picking up students.  I make it to the bottom of the hill and sit well out of range so I can watch Pat’s next flight.  Pat is now learning to land on his feet.  I’ve only gotten to see one of his flights so far today, I’ve been so busy driving.  I watch him soar off the hill, speed up, slow down, and then flare.  He still has too much airspeed when he flares and he balloons up a bit too much, then drops the nose (which you’re never supposed to do) and, remembering, quickly brings it up again.  In the end, he lands on his knees instead of his feet, but not hard enough that he gets hurt.

When I pick him up, he’s disappointed that I saw his crappy landing instead of one of his good ones.  I’m disappointed that I couldn’t get my iPhone out in time to get a video. He’s happy I didn’t.

At the end of the morning, I’m actually tired from driving the Kubota.  But, what I notice is that my neck and shoulder feel considerably better.  Instead of laying around feeling sorry for myself, the activity not only kept me distracted from the pain, but it seems to have loosened up some of the tight muscles.  I still can’t turn my head far enough that it would be safe for me to drive on the highway, but I’m glad that I came out.

If the Boats a Rockin’

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It’s Saturday.  Marcy’s Playground comes to mind every time I say that.  With “It’s Saturday” running as the soundtrack in my head, I start gathering up the stuff I will take with me on our kayaking trip today.  We have signed up for an Outdoor Chattanooga outing kayaking at the Hiwassee Wildlife Refuge.  The Sandhill Crane is migrating through the area and it’s an opportunity to see (hopefully) thousands of them up close.

I, of course, want to shoot.  I’ve never tried to shoot from a kayak before–it will be interesting.  But, I have gone to great pains to make sure I can keep my camera dry when not shooting.  I purchased a Pelican waterproof box and carefully sculpted the foam in the box to hold my camera safely.  I’m not quite clear on where I will put this special box so that I can get the camera in and out without rolling the boat, but we’ll worry about that when we get there.

Pat is convinced that we will be going into the river today.  In spite of the fact that we will be in a sea kayak (much more stable than river kayaks) and that we will be in a tandem (even more stable), Pat is sure we are going to roll.  He bases this assuredness on past experience.  We were once on a tandem sea kayak in the Caribbean sitting perfectly still and I (at least, he thinks it was me) managed to flip up.  I contend that it was him, or the ocean, or the wind.  But I have to admit that my track record is at least pretty good circumstantial evidence against me.

However, it’s December and it’s not exactly a warm day with a high expected in the mid-40’s.  I’m pretty determined that we are not going in the river.  I find myself somewhat superstitious about this, however.  I take the approach of fully preparing for a dip in cold water as a measure of ensuring that it doesn’t happen.  It’s the theory of, “If you don’t want it to rain, carry an umbrella and put off washing your car.”

As I dress for our adventure, I choose carefully.  Under Armour tights, hiking pants, rain pants, Under Armour top, wool pullover, fleece, rain jacket.  Each under layer dries quickly and retains heat even when wet.  The waterproof top layer will protect me from splashes and help retain heat as well.  I hate being cold.  I also pick out a goofy hat.  The wind is pretty strong out there and it will only be worse on the water.  I want to be comfortable more than I want to look good.

Satisfied that my camera is well-protected and my clothes will keep me warm even if we fall in, we load up and head on out.  We have a bag with a change of dry clothes so we won’t have to ride home wet in the worst case.  We also have both of our day packs with a bladder of water each and big lunches, two pairs of binoculars, and my waterproof box.  For people who have been downsizing for years, we manage to look like pack mules every time we go somewhere.

We arrive at the park where we’re meeting for the tour.  One of the guides has a Newfoundland dog.  When we walk up, the dog leans against me, laying the weight of his head against my belly.  I rub his big old head and think for the millionth time how much I miss our dogs.

When everyone is ready to go, we load all of our crap and ourselves into the van and head on down the road.  By the time we get to the refuge, I think my body temperature is over 100 and I’m stripping off layers.  As soon as we get out of the van, I am quickly putting them back on.

Everyone gets settled in their boats, adjusting foot pedals and positioning their stuff.  One of the guides, Terry, helps Pat lash my waterproof box to the top of the kayak in front of me so I can easily get my camera in and out.  This is a good thing–I couldn’t figure out how I was going to get the thing in and out of the tiny space for my legs.

Before we get started, Pat has troubles with the rudder and while a guide is helping him sort it out, I spot a juvenile Bald Eagle soaring overhead.

We paddle our way across the main channel and then head along the shore of the refuge, trying not to get close enough to scare the birds.  A large white bird is standing on the shore ahead of us.  It turns out it’s a White Pelican, not a typical bird for the area.  We were hoping for Whooping Cranes, which migrate through Hiwassee every winter, but no such luck.  The pelican decides to take off as we approach, but manages to fly at an angle so that he has his back to us the entire time.  I’m frustrated by my shots.

As I shoot the White Pelican, I see a cluster of Sandhill Cranes standing on the shore behind the flight of the pelican.  There are only a dozen or so gathered there, but we can hear what must be hundreds of Sandhill Cranes gabbing away at one another.  They are an impossibly loud bird whose voice can carry a mile or more.

Across the channel we spot a group of smaller white birds floating on the water.  Someone says they are ring-billed gulls, but I don’t get a close enough look to decide if I agree.  I’m busy looking at the grassy bank above them.  Pat asks me if the bank is covered in Sandhill Cranes.  Unfortunately, the kayak won’t hold still and we bob up and down as I try to look through my binoculars.  For a moment I am convinced they are cows, then I realize I’ve misjudged the distance (and therefore the size).  They are Sandhill Cranes after all.  I blush at having thought they were cows.

We continue on our way, seeing many Great Blue Heron, Double-Crested Cormorants, Coots, possibly Lesser Scaups, and Bald Eagles.  I’m not as familiar with water birds, so I don’t even attempt to identify the gulls that fly by.

We make our way around the island, paddling ferociously against the current until we get around the tip of the island and start floating back with the current.  As we complete the trip, three more bald eagles appear and a group of cranes fly by.  It’s hard to believe we’ve been out on the water for nearly 3 hours.  Even more unbelievable, we never fell in!

When I click through my photos, I have to laugh out loud.  If I scroll through fast enough that the shots are movie-like, I feel like I’m back in the boat again.  The rocking of the boat is capture in the movement of my subject in the frame from one shot to the next.  I can’t tell on the small LCD if anything is in focus or not, but I hope my fast shutter made up for all the motion in the boat.

Fantasy Morning Attempt 1: Bring in the Elves

Posted by dkrashb on

This morning, I decide to conduct an experiment. I’m up at 5:30AM and I don’t absolutely have to be online until 9AM. That gives me 3 1/2 hours to enjoy my morning. I decide I will try to make my fantasy morning a reality today.

Step 1: Sip coffee while sitting on the balcony watching the sunrise.

The first problem is that I have to make the coffee. Making coffee was not part of my fantasy morning. But, since there is no coffee making elf who will appear and make the coffee for me, I get a pot going.

While the coffee is brewing, the second problem occurs. I have bodily functions that I must attend to. My fantasy morning was bodily-function free. However, when nature calls, there is no denying her. I decide I will just start over now that the coffee is made and I am guaranteed a bodily-function free hour if I’m lucky.

I take my hot mug of coffee out on the balcony. Problem number 3 occurs when I realize it’s quite cold out on said balcony. Oh, and I forgot:

Step 2: Take some shots of the sunrise while sitting on said balcony sipping coffee.

I return indoors to put a warm jacket on and pick up my camera and tripod, which I take out with me. This is problem number 4: I didn’t account for any setup time in my fantasy morning. Everything was just in place. And, by the way, problem 5 is rather obvious in that the sun doesn’t rise until after 7:00AM this time of year. I’m still a good hour away from first light. I set up my tripod and camera anyway. There is an interesting cloud hanging over the downtown skyline across the river and the smoke stacks on the various buildings have steam pouring out of them that appear to be creating the cloud. I watch the cloud and take some pictures as a substitute for the sunrise.

After about 10 minutes, I’ve had enough–in my fantasy morning, it was at least 60 degrees. My feet and hands are freezing and I’m going to run out of time if I wait for sunrise. This leads to:

Step 3: Do some yoga.

Which, of course, leads to problem number 6–I have to bring in my camera and get out my yoga props. Once again, I didn’t account for clean up or set up time in my fantasy morning. But, I manage to get my yoga space set up with plenty of props for restorative poses.

I go through a few “low-flow” poses (as one of my instructors in Columbus used to call it) to get the blood flowing again, warming my hands and feet after my time on the balcony. Then, I go into a series of restorative poses that I hold for ten slow, deep breaths each (since I can’t see a clock). While this probably isn’t long enough, I’m clearly running out of time for my fantasy morning and I still have 3 more steps to go.

I decide to multi-task:

Step 4: Meditate.

I finish up my yoga with reclining goddess and do my meditation while I relax in the pose. It takes a while to get the music I want to play on my laptop, eating up several precious minutes while I mess around with getting iTunes to work. However, once I get it going, it’s actually the nicest multi-tasking I’ve ever done. When I’m done, I do a quick Shavasana and pick up all my yoga toys.

I check the clock. My fantasy morning includes an hour of writing time and a walk with Pat as steps 5 and 6 respectively. However, I left showering and getting dressed out of my fantasy morning–apparently in my fantasy morning, I work all day in my pajamas. I have time to shower and change plus take a walk with Pat or just to write. The clock ticks on unsympathetically. I decide to jump in the shower.

When I get out of the shower, the sky is turning red. I wrap up in my big, thick robe and carry the tripod and camera back onto the balcony. Looks like I will be shooting the sunrise after all. But, realistically, I don’t have time for this. The sunrise is so dramatic, I can’t tear myself away. I keep watching until the unbelievably bright red starts to fade into a more normal, muted tone. Then, I make a mad dash to finish getting ready for a walk.

I wake up Pat and tell him I want to go for a walk. I resist the urge to check email, realizing that if I do, we will get no walk in at all. As it is, we are only have time for a short loop. When at last we get outside, Pat constantly tells me to slow down–I am practically jogging trying to get some distance in.

In the end, my fantasy morning feels rushed, not so relaxing, and I don’t have time to write. Where are the elves when you really need them?