Queens Creek

One early morning here recently, a mist was rolling off the creek as the sun peeked first timidly and then more confidently through the thin layer of clouds.

(I wish I could say which morning this was, but they're all blurring together at this point.)

Off in the distance, someone was tending to his crab pots.

We're fast approaching my favorite month of the year, May.  I love May because everything that was dead and dull is green and alive.  The heat, humidity and killer, mutant ants and mosquitoes pesky insects have not yet descended.

I've had no time to report all the major happenings around here--and there is so much to report!

For now, just know we're still here, still enjoying early morning sunrises and always grateful for this beautiful place in which we live.

~  ~  ~

Baby Sis and I are headed to Nashville to run walk another half marathon and visit our good friend Lauren. Assuming I survive 13.1 miles that I haven't prepared for, I hope to resume blogging here within the next week or so, give or take.  

Aaron's Beach

Sunday afternoon after a four-mile run, I drove down to Aaron's Beach just to say hello.

Although the sun was shining brightly, the wind was brisk.

Temperatures were only in the forties.

(Saturday, when I went running down Redart, it started snowing!)

(I'm really ready for warm weather to settle in and for the cold to go away.)

Anyway, the sand at the beach's entrance has shifted since I last visited.  

But most of the rest of it 

looks the same.

It was another busy week here in the Chesapeake Bay household.  Daughter purchased her prom dress, and in a few weeks I'll be taking my very last prom pictures as a mother.  Sunday night was her basketball banquet, the very last sports banquet I'll be attending as a mother.  Her cap and gown recently arrived, and before too long I'll be a blubbering idiot blinking back tears at her graduation.  She's very eager for high school to be over and done with, and she can't wait to get to UVA.  I'm so proud of her.

I continue to press the limits of an odometer with my 100-mile daily commute, but I have been doing some fun things as well.  On Saturday, Middle Sister invited me to an oyster roast at the Mathews Yacht Club, where she recently applied to become a member. We thoroughly enjoyed a seafood feast with some fascinating people.

Baby Sis and I are once again traveling to Nashville to visit our blog friend Lauren.  We will also attempt to run another half marathon.  Since my car accident, I've not been able to get back to where I was physically.  There are more aches and pains and I just feel older different.  But I'm not letting that deter me.  I'm able to run six miles without stopping, just not sure I can do 13.1 miles without walking, so I'm not making that a priority.  I just want to finish the race and not worry about my time or whether I have to walk or not.  Plus, it's not really about the race.  It's about the adventure that Baby Sis and I will have with our friend in Nashville.  That doesn't happen until the end of the month, but I'm gearing up for it nevertheless.

There's more to tell, and when things simmer down here I will tell the story from beginning to end.

It's a very good one.

I hope all is well in your world.  Have a great week!

Brrrrr

Although the calendar says Almost April, the temperatures this weekend said Almost Alaska.

In spite of the frigid temperatures, which made for brutally cold conditions for Saturday's 10K in Richmond with Baby Sis, these backyard daffodils have made themselves known, and they promised me when I spoke with them yesterday that warmer weather is on the way.

Still, just like the runners who couldn't feel hands, feet, toes or fingers Saturday morning, these daffodils have to put their heads down to brave the oncoming cold wind, push forward, and persevere.

Baby Sis and I managed to eke out a personal best in Saturday's 10K.  With no training other than last weekend's half marathon, we jogged a very frigid 10K in one hour and three minutes.  Could we have done better?  Of course.  Could we have done worse? Yep.

I need to sniff out another race for us to do this spring.

Until then, I'm going to sniff the backyard daffodils and hope for warmer temperatures this week.

Baby Sis and I at Saturday's 10K, cold and suffering in spite of outward appearances.
Thanks to Edward Anderson for this picture.

Misty Morning

Thursday morning a pocket of fog clung to the shoreline of Smither's cemetery across the creek from me.  Sunrise saw warmer temperatures jockeying for position with the cooler nighttime ground temperatures.  Although it rained on and off throughout the day, it was a very warm day eventually.

That warmth is predicted to be short-lived, however, and just in time for yet another race I've not prepared for:  the Monument Avenue 10K in Richmond, also known as Baby Sis's stomping grounds. We'll spend Friday night at her friend Dino's house, awake at Oh-So-Dark Thirty Saturday morning, and limp up and down Richmond's quaint neighborhoods in freezing temperatures--although likely nowhere near as cold as the Valentine's Day race at the winery.

Afterwards, I'll drive to Daughter's track meet in Charles City, which is sort of/not really/but kind of on the way home. If you're going the long way which includes going in the entirely opposite direction.

On Sunday I hope to do absolutely nothing.

Have a wonderful weekend.

Virginia Beach Half Marathon

Once upon a time, the Chesapeake Bay Sisters, who don't get out at all, ever away much, decided to try a new half marathon not to train for, otherwise known as the Shamrock in Virginia Beach.

In spite of the fact that the eldest recently turned 50, neither sister acted as though she were a day past 10  15 18 years old the entire weekend.

Please ignore the wad of chewing gum in the upper right corner of CBW's mouth.
Thank you.

The 50-year-old sister  is  always the responsible one  was responsible for signing them up for this Morning of Misery--that, again, neither had trained for.  As such, she took a few liberties when the website requested nicknames for the bib, which must be carefully pinned to every runner to ensure proper timing.  Those bib names are a quick at-a-glance identification for the roadside supporters and children dutifully handing out water and Gatorade at the stations every mile or so.

Imagine my glee when, at practically every water station, someone yelled,
"Great job, Aunt Esther!"
(Our family has an obsession with Sanford and Son.)

In spite of everything, including the fact that the 50-year-old's longest run since November was six miles on Valentine's Day in igloo-compatible temperatures at the New Kent Winery, and the younger sister only ran two or three times since the year 2011 then--in spite of all that lack of training, we didn't do that terribly.

At least not for us.

Our worst time ever for completing 13.1 miles is 2 hours and 45 minutes.  Our best is about 2 hours and 15 minutes.  We landed squarely in the middle this time at 2 hours 27 minutes.

But never mind all this talk about running.

The sisters only suffer through the tortuous, pre-sunrise exercise for the post-race endorphins and beer.

Baby Sis and the Atlantic Ocean.  And keg beer. It's about 10:30 a.m. here.
But we've completed 13.1 miles! 

In races past, the sisters felt slightly stymied by the post-race rules and regulations about free beer, specifically the quantity allowed.  Usually there's a limit of some sort, imposed by the very responsible race director, who has no idea that certain very tall, very un-average sisters may, for example, be able to not train for 13.1 miles of exercise and consume more (of everything) than your average person.

The point is, really, Aunt Esther Baby Sis  hates to be told what she can and cannot do, whether it's related to beer, parking, driving, operating someone else's vehicle that later ended up exploding in the streets of Richmond, playing a basketball game, playing any game of any type, breathing, working, living as a U.S. citizen, regulations of any kind, or anything resembling a need to do what one is being told to do by someone else.  At all.

For example.

In this particular race, each bib--or race number that says, for example, Aunt Esther, even if your name is really Baby Sis--has four places that the beer givers cross off each time a beer is handed out.

Baby Sis was not happy with being told how many beers she could have, particularly by her race bib or by a bib crosser offer.  She scoured the post-race festivities trying to talk other people into giving her their bib.  When I suggested it was just easier to simply purchase the beer and handed her two that I did purchase,  she acted like I'd just handed her a bag full of treason poison.

It's all about pushing the limits with Baby Sis.

And then it happened.

Then.

It happened.

As we were sitting just outside the tent on the sand with all the Happy Marathoners, basking in the sun, enjoying the last of our free beer and even a few that were purchased--much to Baby Sister's chagrin about having to choke down purchased vs. free beer--a gust of very strong wind hit the back side of a Clearly Uninterested in Drinking Four Free Beers Marathoner who wasn't clutching her number.

The wind caught the bib just so that it went way up in the air and landed almost directly in front of where the sisters were sitting in the sand.

The bib, boasting four unclaimed beers, was snatched up by an innocent bystander who attempted to locate its rightful owner.  At least one of the sisters--not the older one---saw this as a sign from above.

The sisters enjoyed four more free beers courtesy of Patty, bless her sweet beerless heart.

A good time was had by all.

Except, perhaps, poor Patty.

The End.

Whirlwind

Well, here we are, more than halfway through the month of March, and the whirlwind of activity known as my life continues to spin more violently as rapidly as ever.  Although basketball season is long gone, absolutely nothing has slowed down, particularly relating to Daughter.

This week, in a story that involved me sprinting across the Gloucester Court House lawn in high heel shoes and sliding in the courtroom sideways, disheveled and winded just as they were shutting the doors, Daughter received her official driver's license.  She's been driving for a while, but with a provisional license.  Around here they make the teenagers and parents suffer sit through an official ceremony performed by a judge, a sheriff and a probation officer to pound home the fact that texting and driving don't mix, alcohol and driving don't mix, and mothers who work an hour away from the court house where their daughters are due in court and who also happen upon an accident that stalls traffic but who are still due in court nonetheless or else said daughter does not get her license are more than likely going to break a few minor traffic regulations, up to and including every speed limit from Williamsburg to Gloucester,  in order to get there just in the nick of time.

For example.

Daughter also represented the basketball team at a recent school board meeting, where she learned she was second team all-district with all-academic honors.  Yesterday she informed me she was nominated by the school to attend Virginia Girls State this summer.  She has a 4.3 grade point average, but was quick to tell me last night on the ride home from a King William track meet that all this can change based on what's happening in English here lately.

If getting a B or receiving any sort of grade that reduces an already over the top GPA is the worst thing she has to report, all while juggling all the sports, I'd say I'm pretty darn lucky.

Speaking of the track meet, which was her first ever, she placed first in the 200-meter dash and third in the 400m.

Speaking of running in general, which I've not been doing diligently, Baby Sister and I will participate in the Virginia Beach half marathon this weekend. Although we always say we haven't prepared properly, this time we mean it more than ever.  The longest distance I've run in the entire year of 2015 is the six miles we ran on Valentine's Day in freezing temperatures.

A half marathon is 13.1 miles.  6 and 13.1 are not even kissing cousins.  They aren't related. They don't live in the same neighborhood.  They barely recognize each other as numbers, they're so far apart.

As such, Baby Sis and I are lowering our competitive standards for this Sunday's race and are permitting ourselves to think about walking if we need to.  We also are trying not to focus on the fact that because of this lowering of standards many senior citizens will likely beat us.

Hopefully this will motivate us to do even better for the next half marathon we sign up for.  And if even one senior citizen beats us, we'll be signing up for another one.  We will not rest until we have beat a senior citizen in a half marathon!

I will be in Virginia Beach until Monday and will provide an update by mid-week.  If you don't see anything new here by Wednesday, I'm probably in the hospital recovering from a cardiac event incarcerated for Intentional Tripping of a Speedy Senior Citizen.

p.s. There is a good chance we will see Kilt Man at the finish line of this race since he is from Virginia Beach.  If you're unfamiliar with that whole story, click here.

Heron

This Millers Cove heron was enjoying the warmer temperatures Sunday afternoon.

I'm still in shock, pleasantly so,  that we've had three consecutive days of above-60-degree temperatures.

Baby Sis and I (foolishly) signed up for a half marathon in Virginia Beach a week from Saturday.  Given all the snow and nasty weather we've had, neither of us has done any noteworthy running since our Valentine's Day 10K at the New Kent winery.

I hope to take advantage of this week's warmer temperatures to get in a few sorry miles, but there's no way we're going to be ready for 13.1 in a week.  Of course we'll attempt it, ready or not, but we are fully prepared to watch in aggravation as the senior citizens zoom past us.

Doggone it.

Snow

Tuesday morning Mathews County awoke to gray skies, a layer of snow on the ground, lingering snow flurries, no school for Daughter and no work for me.  (This was one of the rarest of rare occasions my place of employment shut down for the day.  I think they need to try it more often, they might like it. I know I would.)

By the afternoon, clouds gave way to sunshine, but the temperatures were still brutally cold.

So much has happened since I last posted I hardly know where to start.

Saturday morning, Baby Sis and I traveled to New Kent Winery and stood in the freezing cold along with about 1,600 others for what felt like hours waiting on the start of a race. If that wasn't a test of endurance I don't know what is.  Naturally neither of us had trained for it, but even so we placed in the middle of the pack for the 10K.  (There was also a 5K.)  Afterwards we sampled some of the wine, which helped make the pain and agony of gasping for breath in frigid weather somewhat worthwhile.

Later she talked me into going back with her to Richmond. Her friend Dino made us a delicious Valentines supper of perfectly cooked baked salmon, and the three of us headed out to see a band at the Broadberry Theater.  I confess that the very last thing I wanted to do after running a 10K early on a Saturday morning an hour from home in brutal temperatures was stay up late and see a band, but in hindsight I'm glad I did.  We had a really good time.

Sunday night I joined my friend Alda, her husband, and a new friend with one of the most unusual names I've ever heard--Myrtchas--for dinner in Deltaville, also a good time and not something I'd ordinarily do on a Sunday night.

Monday Daughter and I waited eagerly for details about the impending snow storm. I started cooking, because that's what I tend to do when it snows.  Vegetarian chili, lasagna and cornbread for starters.  An odd combination but somehow it worked.

Tuesday morning we awoke to the winter wonderland above. Later in the day I started sweating--very unusual in a house I keep at a steady 67 degrees even in this frigid weather--and realized I'm getting sick.  Thankfully, because work was cancelled, I could spend the day in bed without feeling guilty. I still found time to make more food, including a chocolate peanut butter pudding cake in the crock pot.  Yes, you read that correctly.  Not sure where the punctuation goes, but all of those words belong.

That same day, in between bouts of sweating, I still had to walk the dog six times in the snow.  Six times.  Six. In calf-deep snow. My aging dog has kidney disease and when he's not drinking water he's expelling it.  It's great fun in 20-degree weather when you're simultaneously sweating and coughing.  Good times.

That's OK.  Except for the dog and running 6.2 miles on a hilly course in New Kent County in frigid temperatures my minor aches and pains, the past several days have been wonderful.

Practically perfect.

Hope all is well where you are.

-CBW

This and That

These are recycled from February 2013 but are as good as new to me since I haven't seen them in a while. This dock and boat, in their advanced state of deterioration, really appeal to me.

But then again I don't get out much.

And I'm very easily entertained.

Growing up in Mathews in the days before technology, the back yard was the cable TV, the internet, the cell phone, the Netflix, everything. You made your own fun.  Luckily I've not forgotten those days and am still very much amused by almost nothing at all.

It's either a life skill or some form of insanity, I'm not sure which.

Not to sound like a broken record, but things are busier than ever at work and at home--especially work. This weekend is a long one, though, thanks to the federal holiday on Monday.

Saturday morning bright and early, Baby Sis and I will jog a 10K over in New Kent at a winery, a first for us.  We'll trot up and down hills and meander through neighborhoods and with any luck be rewarded with wine and chocolate at the finish.  I dread the running in this cold, cold weather but look forward to the rest.

Baby Sis is trying to talk me into seeing a band in Richmond on Saturday night, after the 10K.

Something tells me after the week I've had and the early morning jog in frigid temperatures, I'll be ready for nothing more than a very long nap Saturday evening. And staring out my window onto Queens Creek from the comfort, warmth and quiet of my warm living room.

But we'll see.

I hope your weekend is fantastic.