Powered by my big Latina ass

This is the story of how a pumpkin in a pair of bad bike shorts managed to overcome her physical challenges (fat) and mental challenges (fear) and finish the Geneva Tour de Cure 60K loop in 3 hrs 19 min!

I overcame my first fear, which was not remembering how to tie the bike up on the bike rack (you who have mechanical ability may choose to sneer at me. Go ahead. It's a very real fear of mine, to have to do something vaguely mechanical.) As soon as I loaded up the sweet, fleet Bianca onto her bike rack, it started raining. Figures...I had dutifully called the event hotline at 6 a.m. and the ride was still on; they would cancel only if there was inclement weather. Considering I rode through pouring rain and brisk winds for 2 out of the 3 hours or so that I was out there, I'd hate to see what the Tour de Cure folks think is "inclement weather."

My second fear was not finding Peck Farm Park, where the ride starts and finishes. After arguing with my GPS until Randall Rd., when I finally submitted to her stern directional wisdom, I found the place and a fairly decent parking spot. I managed to unload Bianca without too much fumbling, scrounged around for my helmet, put on my cool (ok, gay) fingerless biking gloves on backwards, slicked on some Chaptstick, hopped on the bike, and wondered what the hell to do next. I rode across the rode to the check-in station and checked in, which seems like the obvious thing to do at such a point. I saw a couple of fellow riders from my church and we took turns taking pictures of each other while we waited to start. By now the rain is coming down hard and water is dripping from our helmets onto our bike seats. I sensed this was going to be the general tone for the day.

We finally set out a little bit after 8 a.m. Immediately I had to tackle a series of little hills, with little time to recover between them, as we wound around Peck Farm Park. The rain was demonic, aided in its misery-making by the wind, which made sure the rain could slap you silly in the face. That first half hour of the ride was the worst. I thought I was going to be riding with a group, but I assumed some sort of natural ability to keep up with groups, or perhaps I was depending on the kindness of strangers. No such luck. Group after group blazed past me, and I quickly figured out if I was going to ride, I was going to ride alone. And not in an enigmatic Clint Eastwood/Tommy Lee Jones loner sort of way, either. I was uh-loooone out there. I rode past parks, subdivisions (model homes open!), and farmland on country roads and major Kane Co. arteries. I had no idea just how damn hilly the course was going to be. I figured I'd average about 12 mph, but I was thinking 8 mph would be my slowest rate and 16 would be a common, frisky little clip for me. I did average 11.1 mph, but only because 5 mph up all those goddam hills and then 17 mph coasting downhill does average out to 11...

I like signs, or signage, as we librarians like to say. I didn't see enough of those happy green arrows pointing me along my route. I did manage to stay on course, but only because I made everyone who passed me (and there were many who did) tell me if I was going in the right direction.

The two most beautiful words in the English language are: rest stop. Oh my, tears of joy and gratitude poured down my cheeks when I saw the Lepre-Cans, the inexplicably Irish-themed portapotties on hand for the event. Perhaps I share too much, but let me just tell you that relieving oneself whilst a leprechaun on the door stares at you is not a pleasant experience. It was actually a bit terrifying. If ever I caught up with any of the groups of sleek greyhounds and gazelles, it was at the rest stops. I went banana-for-banana, granola bar-for-granola bar with the best of them. It was at the rest stops that I discovered bike shorts do not have to be bad. On me, wet Lycra is a nightmare; on a 25 year old man with sculpted thighs, it's gift wrap! Oddly enough, the ride after the first rest stop was fun and fast for me. Perhaps I was fueled by lust, hoping to catch more eyefuls of Lycra-clad masculinity. I zipped along, enjoying the countryside and the all-too-brief camaraderie of Those Who Inevitably Passed Me. By the second rest stop, I had acquired a reputation for comedy, surprisingly enough. I suppose you could say Tish Calhamer Appeared At The Second Rest Stop, Limited Engagement Only.

Bianca, my swift little bike, was the real champ throughout the whole ride! She gracefully shifted and climbed and coasted and cranked her way for 36.9 miles. She got a lot of dirt and grit on her frame and in the gears, but you could tell she enjoyed getting all bitched up; she's a tough one. When we got home, Bianca got a shower before I did; I hosed her off with the garden hose and then put her to bed in the garage.

She really enjoyed kicking up her wheels, though! I was really happy to see the finish line! I was even happier to see a big plateful of mostaccioli and salad with gobs of Ranch dressing (surely the elixir of life.) I chatted with my pastor, who is a Gazelle. Paul did the 100K in 3 hrs 36 min, which is almost twice my distance at almost my same time. I'd let hatred course through my veins, except he is my spiritual advisor...

A real treat was meeting Eric Goodwin, the able organizer of the Geneva Tour de Cure. He rides competitively and works for the American Diabetes Association. He came up to me, having recognized me because I'm all over his Facebook page, wordy/chatty Facebook pest that I am. (I think he was just being nice when he said I wasn't really a pest...I mean, come on! I update every single hideously-boring detail of my pathetic life!) I forced him to pose for a photo, which you will see in a bit. Eric is a friendly, sweet, hospitable sort of guy; really, all the staff who put together the Geneva Tour de Cure were wonderful. The worst part of the whole entire ride was getting back on the bike after lunch and riding back to the parking lot! I thought I was going to pass out! In my weakened state, it was a miracle I managed to hoist Bianca back up on the bike rack. After another scary zip up Randall Rd., we were safely home.

Collage of spring flowers

Somewhere over the rainbow

I try to think positively and glory in the rainbow after the rain, but I'm always on the lookout for the funnel cloud. The weather this evening did look ominous--a turquoise green sky, pierced with a ray of bright sunshine--that's usually the formula for a tornado. Plus, my mom had a "funny feeling" and called me and told me to go down to the basement. Which I didn't do, because even if there was a disaster, I'd still have to defy my mother.

Knitting with Oskee

Knitting with Oskee
Originally uploaded by Tishoopaper

This pattern, which works beautifully for scarves and shawls, is what I call Broken Rib stitch. But if you Google "broken rib stitch," you get a different pattern, one that I don't especially care for, as the texture isn't very distinct. In a nutshell, this pattern is 4 rows of 2x2 ribbing broken up by 2 rows of knit stitch (which equals one strip of garter.)

If you want to try this pattern, cast on an even number of stitches which when divided by 2 is uneven, e.g. 14 or 38 or 62. This makes the edges look neater.

Row 1: K2, P2, repeat until last two stitches, which should be K2
Row 2: P2, K2, repeat until last two stitches, which should be P2
Row 3: same as Row 1
Row 4: same as Row 2
Rows 5 and 6: K

Repeat 6 rows for pattern.

If you're interested in knitting shawls for a good cause, check out the Prayer Shawl Ministry--but I must admit I don't like their suggested pattern. It's not very distinct. I like a textured pattern you can see!

Ice swords

DSCN0009
Originally uploaded by Tishoopaper

The cool thing about icicles is they can stab you in the heart!

Amish barn-raising next Tuesday!

As most of you know, I don't seem to be able to acquire a man for myself, at least not for a boyfriend or fiancee or Mr. Right or Darling Husband (DH as the bloggers like to say.) I have, however, acquired a plethora of male friends. Guys fall all over themselves and scramble around to become pals with me.

So you've all heard me say time and time again that I have so many male friends I could have an Amish barn-raising next Tuesday. My friend Erika found a plate in a thrift shop in upper NY state with a barn-raising scene on it and immediately thought of me! She mailed the plate 12/18 and it arrived today, 1/8. Go USPS. (Apparently they're not as fast as Lance Armstrong when he rode for the Postal Service team in the Tour de France, but I digress...)

Here is a shot of the plate and also a close-up, where you can see the little pioneers. I don't think they're actually Amish, but you get the idea. So if you're free next Tuesday, come over for a barn-raising, and bring extra nails--we're always running out. ;-)

Planet Tish

I don't have to be Mormon to have my own planet. I'm living proof of that. My characteristics and traits and circumstances and experiences seem to point to someone who is in a different quadrant of the galaxy. Maybe I'll elaborate on that some day. You better hope I don't.

Note: Yes, I suppose I would be considered a dwarf planet. Planet Tish is a dwarf planet.

Great in '08

I read 104 books in 2008. I counted the titles I jotted down in my reading log, which I've kept since 1996. Out of those 104 books, there were plenty of standouts. In no particular order, but featuring two dog books (unusual for a cat person like me!), here is my list of the best fiction books I read in 2008:
1. The Story Of Edgar Sawtelle by David Wroblewski (dog book #1)
2. Fire In The Blood by Irene Nemirovsky
3. Unspoken by Mari Jungstedt
4. Ice Trap by Kitty Sewell
5. The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox by Maggie O'Farrell
6. The Brief, Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz (a shoutout to my homeboy Dominicano who won a Pulitzer for this novel!)
7. Mudbound by Hillary Jordan
8. Child 44 by Tom Robb Smith
9. The Art Of Racing In The Rain by Garth Stein (dog book #2)
10. The Guernsey Literary And Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows
Note: Links are to the Gail Borden Public Library catalog. Please check your library's catalog when you want to check these out. I'm sure amazon.com has these titles as well.

Thinking side of the box

I've made these little boxes for several years now. You use both the front and the back of the card, and all you need are old Christmas cards (you can use any-occasion-at-all cards, not just Christmas,) a pencil, a ruler, and some glue if you want.
eHow spells out the directions better than I can:How To Make Little Boxes Out Of Greeting Cards.

I did photograph pretty much each step as I went along. Note that a lovely glass of wine is my companion. Nothing goes better with a craft than a good glass of wine--in this case, an insouciant South African Petit Chenin Blanc from the Village Vintner in Carpentersville, but I digress (and set up a possible blogpost for the future.) So follow along with a stack of old Christmas cards and the beverage of your choice! (You know, maybe I shouldn't say "stack" of cards; I hardly got any Christmas cards this year. One more thing to blame on the economic meltdown.)

Tish Kringle

Tish Kringle
Originally uploaded by Tishoopaper

This was taken at the Christkindlmarkt (or Kris Kringle Market, if you will) in Chicago. It's a good place to get your German on! Tasty potato pancakes, mulled wine in a shoe, and gorgeous glassblown ornaments (sehr ueber-koestlich, which is German for very super expensive.) The red coat does make me look like a diseased cardinal, don't it?

Silly Guv!

Notice the file name at the end of this URL for a Yahoo news item about our wacky Gov. Blowjobovich: http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20081210/ap_on_re_us/illinois_governor_scheming_for_dollars

It's unbelievable. Given a choice between laughing and crying, I'm picking laughing. You have to laugh.

Still more #$@%ing snow

branches up close
Originally uploaded by Tishoopaper

I ran out and took one more picture in the snow. Remind me in a couple of weeks that I once thought all of this snow was ethereally lovely and photo-worthy...

Shovel it

It's a winter wonderland here in Elgin, thanks to the white frosting of snow we got last night. I took some photos of the snow, which you can see here:
Snowy scene, 12/6/08.

Some of the photos look like they're black&white, but they're not! It was just the pale light, the white snow, and the silhouetted trees. It's a gorgeous palette of pale silver and gray.

Food Of The Gods--The Cheesy Potato Casserole With Sour Cream and Cornflakes

2 lbs potatoes (about 5-6 medium to large potatoes)
1 10 oz can cream of chicken, celery, or mushroom soup
1/2 cup chopped onion
1 tsp salt
1/2 tsp pepper
1 pint sour cream
2 cups sharp cheddar cheese, shredded
2 cups crushed corn flakes

Peel potatoes and boil in pot of water until potatoes are firm (usually if fork goes into potato easily, they are done). Set aside to cool. Note: You can use 2 lbs frozen hash browns, too. Just thaw them before using.

In the meantime, butter 13x9 casserole dish and then combine together in a separate bowl the soup, onions, salt, pepper, sour cream and cheddar cheese.

Shred potatoes when cool and then put them into the buttered casserole dish. Pour mixture of soup, onions, etc. over the potatoes and top with crushed corn flakes.

Melt 1/2 cup of butter in a pan and then pour over the corn flakes.

Bake in preheated 350 degree oven for 45 minutes.

Yes, yes--I know it calls for cornflakes! And a can of cream of something soup! And a whole stick of beautiful butter! And you could go all out and use frozen hash browns! But oh, oh! Sublime, utterly sublime! Truly transcendent on the tongue! And yet, it defies the laws of good or gourmet cooking, not to mention the guidelines for nutrition and health. This should be called Heart Attack Potatoes. You food purists out there who sneer at recipes calling for a can of some sort of "cream of" soup? You should try this! You will be transported to heaven on light, buttery, cheesy, creamy wings.

I'm burning up

I would burn down my house if only Denis Leary would come rescue me! The word "hot" is definitely overused, but let's face it: firemen deserve the term! On Rescue Me, the scorching Denis Leary plays Tommy Gavin, an FDNY firefighter struggling to cope with the aftermath of 9-11. He and the rest of the guys at 62 Truck are doing the best they can to come to grips with the tragedy, which means they're suppressing their emotions and thoughts by drinking to excess, talking to ghosts, popping pills, brawling, destroying their families, and getting laid whenever they can. What, you thought they would be noble? As they often say on the show, fuck that!

Rescue Me is one of the best shows on TV. The fifth season begins spring 2009. I watched the previous 4 seasons on DVD in a 2-week binge. To tide one over, there are 10 minisodes available on crackle.com. I'm going through complete withdrawal, having watched every episode available, and all extant video clips in the known universe. God, that Denis Leary is entrancing...mmmmm....

Going green when you're seeing red

As our corn casseroles baked side by side, Bluestem and I drank coffee in her lovely solarium and chatted about menstruation. Yes, everything was cast in a pink glow and in soft focus, and we both wore long flowing dresses and floppy garden hats...

My male readers, please bear with me, and maybe you'll learn something about your dear sisters. We are indeed stronger than you.

There are some things about having my period that really irk me. #1 is having to spend somewhere around $6--$7 for a box of pads, and I go through a box each period, now that I've turned 40 and my female parts are rioting. Pads are wasteful; I don't even want to think about the landfill I contribute to each month. I am not the kind of person who enjoys destroying the environment, but I also want to get through my period with relative comfort and ease, and by that I mean, I don't want to kill anybody. I've thought about using reusable pads, but the thought of washing them over and over doesn't appeal to me. So I continued to buy box after box of Stayfree, literally bleeding my money away.

Then Bluestem told me about the Diva Cup, which is a silicone cup that you insert in your vaginal canal that catches your menstrual flow. In other words, it's a little plastic thingie you cram into your cooch which catches all that icky blood flowing out. It's reusable, it's easy to use (after you get used to it) and it's a green alternative for the red time of the month! I am dying to use it! I ordered one from South Coast Shopping. It was $22.34 including shipping and handling, so I will have recovered the cost in just three menstrual cycles. I can't wait to try it! I will of course blog all about it!

Give thanks for this corn casserole!

It wouldn't be Thanksgiving without this corn casserole recipe. My mom started making it many years ago, and we have to have it at Thanksgiving and Christmas or else. One year for some reason we forgot to make it at Christmas, and that was the year we all started drinking heavily and badmouthing one another and it took a double batch of corn casserole the next year to repair our broken family relationships.

Ok, not really. But it is awfully darn good, and I wouldn't be surprised if this corn casserole won a Nobel Peace Prize someday. Here's the recipe:

1/4 C. butter (half a stick)
1/4 C. finely-chopped onion
1/4 C. chopped celery
1/4 C. chopped bell pepper (different colors are pretty!)
2 Tbsp. finely-chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
2 Tbsp. flour
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp paprika
1 C. milk
1 15 oz box of frozen corn
2 eggs, lightly beaten

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease or spray an 8x8 baking dish or medium casserole dish. In a large skillet, melt the butter. Add onions, celery, bell pepper, and parsley. Cook until onions are soft. Add paprika and salt. Stir in flour, and keep stirring until bubbly. Slowly add milk, constantly stirring. Bring to a boil. Add corn, stirring constantly. Take off heat and fold in eggs. When thoroughly mixed, pour into prepared baking dish. Bake for 35-40 minutes or until knife inserted in center comes out clean. You may want to undercook if you're planning on reheating it the next day; then it won't be dry. This can be made ahead of time for holidays and potlucks. Double this recipe for double the deliciousness! If you double it, don't increase the amount of salt. Double everything else.

I made a double batch of corn casserole with my dear friend Bluestem, quite the venerable blogger herself. This is the second year we've gotten together to make our Thanksgiving side dishes. We portioned out the corn casserole and baked them together but in two separate dishes, and that worked out beautifully! However, when we set them on the stovetop to cool, one of the dishes was still boiling and bubbling, because we forgot to turn off the element! We were wondering what the hell was going on, and when we discovered the element was turned on, we were shocked! My friend has a new stove and it's hard to remember how to turn it off. Ooops...

As the casserole baked, we sat in her lovely sunroom, drank coffee, and chatted intimately about menstruation. That post coming right up...

Lo, e'er I bore thee

I'm pretty sure I'm not the only person in the history of blogging to inflict photos of their new haircut on their blog. Most blogs are cesspools of self-indulgence and this one is no exception. Oh, and I also got my eyebrows waxed! A waxed brow does nicely frame the eye.

Fur & Furniture

"A lady, without a family, was the very best preserver of furniture in the whole world."
--Jane Austen, Persuasion.

I'd like to re-write that: A single lady, with a cat to whom she's unnaturally attached, is the worst preserver of furniture in the whole world.

Judge not, lest ye be an Election Judge

I earned my combat pay on Election Day serving as an Election Judge at a local Voting Center. It used to be called a precinct; now it's a Voting Center. However, the sexy new name does not make you forget that you're spending 17 hours in a cinderblock Drivers License Facility in Elgin, IL.

The day started at 5 a.m. I am by my own admission one of those annoyingly chirpy Morning People. But getting up at 4 a.m. is cruel. 4 a.m. is an UnGodly Hour. The Pope should declare the hours between 2 a.m. and 6 a.m. UnGodly. Yes, people who have had little sleep the night before are responsible for setting up all the voting machines and keeping the democratic processes of our fair republic humming along. Once we set up the machines, put up the posters in the obligatory if not official languages of English and Spanish, and set up the laptop and the Judges Booth Control computer, we were good to go by 6 a.m. when the polls opened. There was already a long line of voters waiting at that UnGodly hour!

That's Kane County Clerk John A. Cunningham in the photo there. He would like for you to know that his nickname is "Jack," and that's in quotes. Because let's face it, "Jack" is really an exotic, whimsical nickname for someone named John. He's a friendly sort though, and pays the judges $145, which works out to less than minimum wage per hour after a 17 hour day.

I worked with 7 other judges in my Voting Center. Some of them remember voting for Abraham Lincoln, having decided to do so after he handily trounced Stephen A. Douglas in the debates and then appeared in some humorous sketches on Saturday Night Live. One woman went to the prom with Rutherford B. Hayes. Another mentioned the really good fish sandwich Jesus split with her. There's something about being an Election Judge that attracts the aged and infirm--oh yeah, you get to sit on your ass all day! But now there's a lot of technology to master, and the old judges are nervous. There was only one other judge who was competent, and we could've run the joint ourselves. Everyone else moved at a pace best described as "a spritely glacier." It was incredibly frustrating to watch someone who voted against the Louisiana Purchase slooooooowly turning Every Single Page of voters applications to find the right one; the concept of slicing down the middle and then cutting that half in half and then flipping quickly didn't mean anything to the alphabetically-challenged. When voter applications were issued on clay tablets, I wonder if these people moved any quicker...probably not.

The whole rainbow of humanity voted in this election. It was amazing to see young and old, black and white, able and disabled, intelligent and idiotic (ok, mostly idiotic...) stepping up to the booths. Some of the elderly voters wanted help, which is ok as long as they fill out an affidavit saying they needed assistance. One grandma told her grandson who was helping her that she "didn't want no black man", and another grandma snapped, "I don't want that man with the droopy jowls!" There were moments of great joy as well as great comedy, I have to tell you...

At any rate...however glacial...we all bonded in a spirit of democracy, shared our snacks, and dealt with all the suckers who were "registered" incompetently and incompletely by various drivers license facilities (they should abolish Motor Voter registrations! So many people never made it onto the rolls! I felt like I was disenfranchising someone every time I pointed out they weren't registered. And the number of people who had moved out of the area three years ago and thought they could still vote in their old precinct was astounding! We need to educate the public about voter registration, especially when you need to re-register, like if you move or change your name, and the number of heartbreaking problems at the polls would drop.)

I was completely brain-dead and laryngitic by the end of the day. I collapsed when I got home--I think I fell asleep in the middle of IMming a friend. It was the fastest 17 hours of my life! Ultimately it was an incredible rush, to be helping people who wanted to vote--I have no interest in politics, in running for office, but voting is such a privilege and I'm truly humbled and awed by the process, and grateful that I could help out. The only downside is, I now hate freakin' old people.