Easy, healthy, nutrient rich minestrone

Ok, so you still have to do the chopping and prep work, but really this is a fairly simple, hearty meal.  One of the best parts?  You can really just throw anything in there you want...I'm thinking next time, chick peas in place of the cannellini beans. It's one of the nice things about soup.  You like a different type of potato?  Go for it! 

Ingredients (that I used):
Olive oil
Half of a yellow onion, rough chopped (luckily I did not cry tonight)
4 cloves of garlic, pressed or chopped (love my Pampered Chef garlic press)
A little bit of tomato paste
Water
2 1/2 Russet potatoes, peeled and chopped into medium sized pieces
3 carrots, peeled and chopped
A bunch of pieces of cauliflower, rinsed of course (it's all about eyeballing how much you want in your pot!)
Fresh parsley, chopped (I had some in the freezer from my summer herbs), you could use dried of course
Kale (or whatever type of greens you like, or not)
Several whole peeled tomatoes, rough chopped
1 can of low fat, low sodium chicken broth
1 can of cannellini beans
Kosher salt, just a little
Orzo (It's what I had around)
Fresh Parmesan cheese
Oven-baked Italian toast (croutons, or crusty bread would be great too)

So, I started by sauteing the onions and garlic in the olive oil in a pot on medium heat. Then I added the tomato paste.  Be careful, as this will burn quickly if not stirred and watched.

Then I poured in a bunch of water to make it brothy. I didn't go too high with the water as I had many more ingredients to get in the pot!

Next, I tossed in (ever so gently, so it wouldn't splash) the potatoes, carrots and cauliflower.

Rinse and rip apart whatever greens you've chosen, if you've chosen and thrown them in.  Eyeball the amount.

At some point, I threw in my chopped parsley.  Not really sure when I did this...

Eventually the whole peeled tomatoes made it into the pot along with the chicken broth (just for some extra flavor)

I brought the soup up to a boil and once it was there, I reduced the heat again down to low.  This brought it down to a simmer. You could throw in some Kosher salt here if you want.  I always taste as I go to see what kinds of flavors might be needed. 

I let it sit this way for a while...no real set time.

When I knew I wanted to eat it soon, I drained and rinsed the beans and threw them into the mix.  I don't like putting them in too early as they are already soft and delicate.

In a separate pot, I cooked some orzo.  In the past I have cooked the pasta in the soup itself, but there are two problems with this.
#1 I never measure it right and end up with two much or too little pasta in the big pot of soup. 
#2 If cooked too long, it becomes mushy pasta.  No one likes mushy, overcooked pasta.
Cooking it separately allows for way more control.

Once all was cooked, I ladled the soup and pasta into a soup bowl, put two oven baked Italian toast pieces (from a bag) and grated some fresh Parmesan on top.

Voila! 

Nicaragua!

I never imagined I'd enter the country of Nicaragua but apparently it's a fairly common tour for those visiting Costa Rica.  We had heard the trip was awesome, not to be missed.  The day started out real early.  We were supposed to be picked up by our tour guide, Norman in a van at 6:30.  Norman is very prompt and it's good to get to the border as early as possible because of hold-ups, inspections etc.  As 6:50 rolled around we radioed Mike, the manager of Recreo to make sure we weren't forgotten. (There were others being picked up for the trip as well.)  About a minute after we called Mike, the van showed.  It wasn't until later in the day that we would realize the reason for the tardiness, and it wasn't Norman.

As we climbed into the van all the others had been picked up already.  The group included a group of five women perhaps in their 30's to 40's who I swear thought they were on Sex and the City.  They definitely were not dressed at all similar to how I had been dressing in Costa Rica for our eco-travel experience.  I don't even think any of them had sneakers on, just flimsy looking sandals that any podiatrist would have admonished them for wearing.  One of the girls was holding a People Magazine.  As Vic walked towards the back of the van with me he murmured, "typical."

We stopped for breakfast soon after leaving El Jobo and then we were on our way to the border.  A fairly short while later we knew we were close to the border.  There was a three-mile long line of big rig trucks backed up on the Pan-American Highway waiting to be inspected.  Our van got into the left lane (as all other cars did) to bypass the trucks.  Norman explained that these truckers would be waiting a minimum of a few hours but up to a couple of days before they could cross the border with their goods.  The border was pretty surreal.  We were dropped off by our van, driven by Javier (Norman's father) at immigration.  It was like a make-shift marketplace with many annoying people trying to sell you their wares.  Enter one building, get passport stamped.  Use the bathroom.

At this point we literally had to WALK across the border having our passports inspected and stamped again by the Nicaraguan police.  It was like something out of a travel documentary.  The reason we couldn't cross in the van was because of many taxes and fees and wait time for an inspection.  After we had our passports stamped we continued on a dirt path to another van that was waiting for us on the Nicaragua side of the border.  We changed some money and were off again.  As we drove away from the border, we had to slow for a group of Nicaraguan soldiers doing a drill.  I snapped a photo through the window in the van.  I swear it looked liked a picture in my social studies text book from the 80's. 

Our first stop was on the banks of Lake Nicaragua.  This is the second largest lake in Latin America (Lake Titicaca bordering Peru and Bolivia is the largest).  Although the lake is freshwater, bull sharks from the Caribbean have somehow adapted and have been seen living in this lake.  The Lake is connected to the Caribbean via the San Juan River.  This is how Francisco Hernandez de Cordoba founded Nicaragua.

One of the most important cities in Nicaragua is Granada, founded by Cordoba (who by the way the currency is named for) in 1524.  Granada is often referred to as the oldest European settlement in the Americas.  I wouldn't exactly call the city beautiful, but it was certainly interesting.  You can see a lot of evidence of the Spanish Colonial style, albeit weathered.  We climbed to the top of the oldest church in the city, La Merced and took in some wonderful views of the city including several more churches and a volcano in the distance.  We then visited an area called Central Park lined with venders hawking various things from dolls to jewelry to cashews to sunglasses.  We didn't shop for anything here because the BIG market was to come.  We got back onto the van that Norman had told us to return to in about 20 minutes.  We waited for one girl, the one with the People magazine to return.  While we did we listened to her friends talk about how she's always late and sometimes just disappears.  One girl told of a trip to Egypt where the girl literally left a bar with some guy not to return until the next day.  Egypt!  This was only one of several stories like this.  Great, this is going to be an interesting day.  She returned a little while later having been retrieved by one of the friends.  She had left the park and went down some random street to haggle over some jewelry.  No apologies from the girl and we were back on the road. It started to become quite clear that it was her world and we were just living in it. 

Next stop, a boat ride on Lake Nicaragua to find the monkeys.  We got ourselves onto the boat that was waiting for us, but we had to wait yet again for the People magazine girl.  She had actually gotten back on the van and CHANGED HER CLOTHES!  This was starting to get unbelievable!  And her friends don't seem to mind.  It was pretty cool out on the lake, looking at volcanoes in the distance and several of the over 350 islands.  Some of these islands are privately owned with beautiful homes built on them.  One island in particular they call "Monkey Island".  A veterinarian placed several monkeys on this island and he monitors them.  This is where I hoped to hold a monkey as I had seen in pictures of this same trip.  Unfortunately they didn't come onto the boat but I did get some great close up photos.  I also got to feed one by hand.  Turns out they like Oreo cookies and Norman had brought along several for the trip.  I held out the Oreo to the monkey I think named Panchito.  He grabbed the cookie from my hand, our fingers touching.  Just like a person, he opened the cookie and licked out the cream!  Then he discarded the cookie!  Vic snapped the camera at just the right time and got a pic of me feeding Panchito.  Another one of the Sex and the City girls "London Tipton" as we liked to refer to her (those of you with small children know who I'm talking about, The Suite Life of Zack and Cody is one of the only kids shows I can tolerate), sounded and looked just like the dumb-witted character.  In the beginning of the trip I thought perhaps the looks and voice were the only similarities to London.  It became quickly apparent that the comparisons wouldn't end there.  She asked Norman how large the lake was.  He replied "over 5000 square miles."  To this "LT" as I will now call her responded, "wow, that's like the ocean!"  I could hardly contain myself.  I had to turn away to look at Vic and stifle my laughter. 

After our boat excursion, we headed to Masaya Volcano.  As we drove up to a higher elevation you could see black rock on either side of the road and sure enough it was what I thought.  There was an enormous amount of volcanic rock from the lava flow from an eruption in 1772.  This was cool in itself but I never imagined what I was about to see.  After we parked, from behind a rock wall we actually looked INTO the crater of the active volcano.  Sulfur dioxide gas rose out of the abyss.  We then climbed up a ton of steps to an even higher point on the volcano.  This gave a slightly different vantage point of the crater but also caused everyone to begin coughing.  Actually the coughing began on the hike up.  Those gases are powerful!

After a decent lunch of steak, plantains, rice and beans, we headed into the market in Masaya.  The crafts and other Latin American inspired items were myriad.  We haggled and bought several interesting things for our new house including a wooden leaf-like platter thingy, a carved wooden box and a ceramic, vibrantly hand-painted dome to house a votive candle.  We also bought a few other items such as key chains (I have a ridiculous key chain collection), a purse and wooden box in the shape of a monkey for Little Jess, and a t-shirt for Vic.  After the hour that we were allotted at the market we headed back to the van.  We knew this could be a problem for People magazine girl and we were right.  Her friends trickled into the van one by one in a relatively decent, non-offensively late amount of time but where was their 'friend' who doesn't give a crap for anyone but herself?  This was going to be bad.  20 minutes go by, 30 minutes...Norman went out to find her.  Another 15 minutes went by before he was able to get her back to the van.  During this time Vic and I could barley contain our anger and we didn't give a shit.  We started showing her friends just how pissed we were with snide comments here and there.  At one point "LT" was talking with another girl about their plane ride down to Costa Rica and I blurted out, "how'd you make your flight??" to which she responded they took separate flights.  45 minutes after our due back time at the van (with which we could have continued shopping ourselves) People magazine girl entered, again without apology.  The smoke coming out of our ears felt like it rivaled the gases of Masaya Volcano.  It was a long, hot day and we had to be back at the border by a certain time.

As we drove towards the border in relative silence, several of us fell asleep.  "LT" came out of her stupor and asked "did we cross the border yet?"  to which her friends replied, "um no, don't you remember getting out of the van and walking across??"  Oh good lord.  Another great line that Mike told us about later from the girls, "The Nicaraguan border is nothing like the Pennsylvania/New York border."  God help us.

Also on the way back, Norman played a little trivia game with us to make the trip back more fun.  After each answer, he awarded each of us with a hand-crafted personalized maraca with our names on them.  Very cool, Norman. Thank you!

Finally, we were back at our villa after a long and eventful day.  Oh and remember how I said the van was 20 minutes late in picking us up in the morning?  Yeah, well I guess now you can figure out why.  All that said though, what a great day.  Another experience I never imagined I would have!  And Norman, our guide was wonderful too.  He had a lot of patience for the girls and gave us an unforgettable day!

la escuela

We visited the local school two days ago in the sleepy, little fishing village of El Jobo (we are staying in this village).  We picked up a bunch of little toys and school supplies before we left the states to bring them.  El Jobo is VERY impoverished and the school does not have much.  Thanks to our friends Bill and Anne, we also had several kick balls to bring down to the kids as well.  You can read a little about the school here: http://www.costaricarecreo.com/?p=37

The school is called, Escuela Gil Tablada Corea.  There are 104 students and it is K-6.  The children in El Jobo almost always never continue school after this age.  The village is so poor and very uneducated.  They are very secluded and fairly cut off from the rest of Costa Rica.  The road that takes you into the village is 14 miles of dirt and gravel and gigantic holes.  Most people here do not own cars.  Once kids finish grade 6 they are expected to be home so they can work and help the family.  On the rare occasion that a child is encouraged to attend high school, they must receive a scholarship and find transportation to a city some distance away.

Although it looks very poor from the outside, once you enter you immediately see how rich in compassion the teachers and staff are in regard to the children.  They were also extremely gracious to us and thankful for the things we brought them.  Our friends Bill and Anne also gave us several kick balls to bring down.  Upon entering, the kids became pretty curious.  They began following us around to see just what we had brought and who we might be.  They smiled and we said 'hola' to one another.  Many were very shy.  Several boys and girls began playing with the kick balls and were so happy.  All I could really stay was 'como estas?' but it was enough to break the ice with the few who played with the balls.  I tossed one back and forth with a little boy.  Our new friend (and manager of Recreo) Mike helped us communicate with two teachers.  One was an English teacher (whose name was unusual and I can't remember it) and one a kindergarten teacher named Grace.  She showed us around her classroom.  It was so organized.  Even though she doesn't have much and some of what she has has definitely seen better days, she was certainly making the most of what she had.  In one corner she had a little house that was made out of 800 (I think) milk cartons.  It took them 30 hours to make out of the cartons and rubber cement.  It even had a window with a curtain.  When you have to, you make due with what you have.  It was really impressive.  Each area of the room was dedicated to a different subject: science, math, music, home skills, hygiene and several more.  Although some of the toys were old, they were in tact.  That is much more than I can say for many of the students I teach.  Each year so many of my books are not replaced or ruined.  I'm afraid to leave things on my desk for fear they will be taken.  I constantly have to clean up piles of ripped up paper and candy wrappers.  These kids in El Jobo have little and I think they know it.  They and the teachers, really do their best to take care of what they have. 

The teachers showed us an art project the kids were working on for Mother's Day (celebrated at a different time here than back in the States.) The kids had cut out hearts and flowers out of cardboard and glued some kind of white paper onto the front.  They were planning on decorating them in various colors.  In the center, a hole cut out so a picture could be glued in.

We spent about an hour at the school and we made new friends.  I exchanged email addresses with the two teachers.  Grace invited us (through Mike's translation) to her home the next time we visit Costa Rica and called us her friends.  It was extremely touching.  I felt honored.  The English teacher spoke a bit of English but expressed that she is lacking in materials to teach the children.  It was very clear that these two women cared very much about their jobs and the children and have a great desire for education in El Jobo to improve.

Even though the conditions were different, the language different, the buildings very different, there were still several similarities that the two women as teachers experience that Vic and I experience as teachers back in the States.  We shared in the frustration for the lack of parental encouragement of education.  There are just some things that are universal no matter how developed your country is.

I plan on keeping in touch with the teachers and sending more things their way that they might need, (if anyone is interested in doing the same, let me know.) This was one awesome experience that I will never forget!

Pura Vida!

Pura Vida seems to be the catch phrase here in Costa Rica.  Along with "Feliz Mama' or something like that.  They are celebrating Mother's Day this week. 

This trip has been amazing to say the least.  Let's start with the house...
Wow!  The house (and all the houses in the development) are built into the mountainside, right there along with nature.  As I'm sitting on a lounge chair at the pool, that each of the houses have, I feel like I'm practically sitting in the rainforest itself.  My view is in a word, magnifico!  In the distance is one of the many coves that lets out into the Pacific.  The water is several shades of blue and green. To my left, the jungle. To my right, the jungle.  Mountains and volcanoes in the distance.  Awesome.

The food has been incredible.  With our package, we have a cook, one of the locals.  Haiti is wonderful.  We can't really communicate beyond buenos dias and mucho gracias, but she can cook up a storm!  Each day she creates a new fruit juice concoction for us and I'm pretty sure we've been eating cut up mangos, papayas and guavas...just had to stop and look up at the massive hawk hovering over us...

We've had to become one with nature in this house.  Many parts of it are open to the elements and there have been some pretty crunchy looking, large bugs in various places as well as there being geckos everywhere.   Something woke us out of our sleep two nights ago.  It was loud and weird sounding.  It was about 3am and it sounded like there was a monkey in our midst.  Lights on, no monkey.  3am, bleary-eyed we looked around the room for the culprit.  Nothing.  We were told the next day it was probably a gecko.  They are some loud buggers!

So far haven't seen a monkey.  Or a snake (thank god) or a shark (thank god).  I'm starting to think the Discovery Channel shoots their documentaries in a zoo and just tells you it's places like Costa Rica or Kenya.  We've been told we will definitely see monkeys tomorrow on our trip to Nicaragua...

Onto other adventuras...
Our first full day, we kayaked in the Pacific and rode horses on the dirt road and on the beach.  Awesome.  Didn't see any sea life from the kayaks, pretty sure sting rays only exist in aquariums.  Actually we have seen some evidence of them out there with a little splash of the water with possibly a fin.  Horses were cool until we rode through a swarm of mosquitoes, and into a thorn tree that I had to grab with my hand to keep it fromm hitting my face (had to dig a lovely splinter out later with a needle and tweezers).

Yesterday was the best day so far.  We went to Rincon de la Vieja which is a national park with a volcano.  We ziplined over canyons, repelled down into them, climbed back up the wall (I struggled about half way up, legs were jelly, they had to pull me the rest of the way...Muy embarrassing.) They seemed to help all the women while they let the men flounder.  Vic was very impressive.  After zip lining we did white water tubing that I'm fairly certain would never be allowed in the U.S. We went down the Rio Negro in tubes over, between and around boulders that churned up that water something fierce!  We saw a few people wipe out but luckily Vic and I managed to stay in our tubes.  This was not something for the faint of heart.  There was a liittle boy, about 4 or 5, who was led by a guide in another tube.  How he managed to get this boy down the river through the rapids I just don't know!  All of the workers and guides were awesome.  All the while during this part of the day we just kept thinking to ourselves as we looked at the jungle around us, wow.  This ain't your ordinary canyon river rapids ride on some track at Six Flags!  Next was horseback riding to a waterfall.  Apparently horses like guavas.  I could smell the sweetness as he chomped away.  The waterfall was beautiful.  It came down from a "cliff".  I put cliff in quotation marks because by many standards, it's not really a cliff, but by my standards...it was a cliff.  It was maybe about 10 feet up.  The two young boys with us jumped before anyone could even tell them where to stand.  Then Vic went and I walked with him.  Then I became a chicken shit.  There were rocks below.  I was afraid I wouldn't be able to jump out far enough.  Vic jumped and I stood up top.  For a loooong time.  The kids started chanting for me to jump.  They came back up to guide me and show me where to stand.  Vic tried to instill confidence.  Legs were jelly, literally shaking.  I was scared I wouldn't be able to push off  to jump out far enough with jelly legs.  Finally (probably ten minutes later), I did it.  Water up the nose, but glad I did it.  Would have regretted it if I hadn't.  We ended the day with the hot springs that are naturally heated by the volcano.  Seriously cool.  A man covered me in mud and we soaked in the natural hot tub.

Great day...

We made it...

Up at 4 am yesterday, we geared up for our trip.  We departed Newark relatively on time; a nice change from LGA and JFK.  The flight was smooth into San Jose.  As we got closer to the ground I could see the lush, green hills/mountains of Central America.  Very cool.    I'm also pretty sure I saw a volcano.  There are 122 volcanoes in the country.  Now I can't be sure, but it was a large black triangle and if I had been asked to draw a volcano in third grade, this is exactly what it would have looked like.  So therefore, volcano. 

We landed in what seemed like the middle of nowhere.  Um, where's the runway?  I see trees, hills...no runway.  We got our rental car and asked in very broken Spanish for directiones to La Nueva Carretera.  (The New Highway).  We had been told (and I had researched online) that this "new highway" was going to save us a ton of time on our trek up to the Guanacaste Province near the border of Nicaragua.  Well, let's just say, they apparently don't believe in street signs or street names in this country and it took us probably more time finally getting to the new highway than it was supposed to save us.  Along the way we traveled narrow, precariously winding roads through the jungley (new word?) mountains, passed lots of shanties, and some REALLY poor towns.  We stopped several times to ask for directions to find out if we were at least headed in the right direction.  It was fun trying to communicate with the locals, albeit daunting being as tired as we were and frustrated about the lack of signage.  By the time we got to this New Highway, there wasn't too much of it left, and then we got our first glimpse of the Pacific Ocean, ever.  Cool. 

We continued heading north to get to our destination, a tiny village called El Jobo (check it on Google Earth), that some Costa Ricans hadn't even heard of.  Great.  On this stretch of the journey we encountered a ton of cows, chickens and chihuahuas.  Seriously.  They run free and wild here like squirrels at home.  I kept half expecting to see Juan Valdez riding a donkey on the road, but no such luck.  We did see a lot of people walking along the Pan-American Highway and kept asking ourselves, "where are they coming from?  And where are they going?" 

HOURS later, were only in Liberia...this would be where the other major airport is but it was more money and not a direct flight.  In hindsight it probably would have been a better decision, especially since we were now paying $600 for the rental car (don't ask...).  We figured we were between 1-2 hours away from our destination.  We were exhausted and needed a five minute break so we stopped at the McDonald's in Liberia.  The Golden Arches were a welcome sight!

Then the rainforest lived up to its name.  The monsoon-like weather really added to the experience.  People were still walking on the road and we still asked, "where are they coming from and where are they going?"

Back on the road again, it started getting dark.  The sun sets here a bit after 6 all year round.  Several more wrong turns later and very broken Spanish spoken to very local people, we finally found the dirt road that would lead us to El Jobo.  This was no ordinary dirt road.  It was pitted with pot holes and gravel and I felt like we were on a ride at Disney.  Thank goodness we didn't blow a tire out! 

6 1/2 hours after we landed in San Jose we found the "wooden gate" (no sign of course) that we were to be looking for.  We were welcomed by a nice, young American guy named Mike who graduated from the same college as Vic.  He welcomed us by saying, "We have a nice warm dinner waiting for you."  Ah, those were the best words I've heard in a long time! 

More to come...

The Costa Rican adventure begins

Ok, so we will be embarking our our little Latin American jaunt early tomorrow morning from Newark.  At the moment we are at the lovely Crowne Plaza in the even lovelier area of Elizabeth, NJ (note sarcasm).  Of course getting here was interesting as driving in NJ is always interesting.  No left turns, um what?  I tried to use the pseudo-GPS feature in my 'maps' app but it failed to recognize the fact that you couldn't get to the other side of the highway we were on.  We were north-bound and the Crowne Plaza was south-bound.  Because the area is so lovely, we decided to loop miles out of the way to experience the scenic area of Newark.  We passed the Anheuser-Busch plant twice.  Big Ben, Parliament. 

We are currently on our way to dinner at the fancy Red Robin (don't mock, we don't have one and we love it. YUM!) with Bill, Anne and my cuz, Tara.  More later...

Time for focus

Ok, so I really need to commit.  Starting projects and not finishing them has been a problem of mine since I was a little kid; just ask my  parents.  I'd like to come back to blogging but I think my blog needs more focus.  This is difficult though being that my mind at any given moment could be thinking about 10 different things all at once.  There's so many things I'd like to write about.  Maybe I need several different blogs focused on several different things.  That probably would never work though considering my first two sentences of this entry...more to come...this is...a work in progress!

Why I Hate Tuesdays

I want to write a blog based on Mitch Albom's, Tuesdays With Morrie. (I'm sure I'd need some kind of permission to do so) But I could never call it "Tuesdays With Jess" because I hate Tuesdays. I'd need another day of the week. For the traditional workweek-scheduled employees out there, Saturday and Sunday are just in another category all their own. So I'm going to focus on Monday-Friday with Tuesday being the worst of them all.

Monday I can deal with. Monday's suck, there's no doubt about it. But I can get through them. It is what it is. As you drop your keys, forget your coffee on the counter or fail to make it across the train tracks before the gates lower, you can blame it all on Monday. It doesn't try and disguise itself and it makes no excuses. You are aware of its depressing aspects, there's no mystery and you simply suck it up and face the week ahead. Actually, it does you a favor. You can totally use it as an excuse for just about anything, "Must be a Monday!"

From the time I wake up in the morning on Wednesday, I consider the week to be half over, even if its not technically half over until noon-ish. You made it this far, you can certainly get through the rest! You made it up the mountain; the rest should be a breeze!

Thursdays...well, they're the new Friday. I like to call Thursdays, "pseudo-Fridays". It's the eve of the weekend. In anticipation of Friday, you can certainly handle just one more day after Thursday!

Then we come to Friday. In a nutshell, Fridays are fairly wonderful. Even with the whole day of work ahead of you, it's kinda like you might as well just be done already. Friday, schmi-day. The anticipation of the weekend and your time off definitely motivates you to get through the day with a smile. Think of how well you made it through the week! Congratulations, Friday is a breeze!

And then there's Tuesday. Pitiless, pathetic, terrible Tuesday. When you think about it, there's really no point to Tuesday at all. It's pointless, useless. You can't psych yourself up for anything when it comes to Tuesday. You're not half way to anything. It serves absolutely no purpose in the work week, really just serving as a reminder that it might as well still be Monday. So alas, this is why I hate Tuesdays!

How I became an athlete...with incredibly loose usage of the word "athlete"

Anyone who knows me knows I'm an actress and singer. My friends know that my acting and singing does NOT include dancing. My family knows that I have two left feet and I sound like an elephant when I go up and down stairs. And Vic, whom I share my life with, witnesses me on a near daily basis trip over my own feet, smack my hands against things (as if I didn't know just how long my arms extended) and walk into door frames. And I wonder why I have shoulder problems! My experience with sports and physical activities when I was little is limited. I danced from 4-9ish and my first dance recital didn't involve a whole lot of dancing. Rather, as the kids around me tap danced to "Oh, You Beautiful Doll", I was busy playing with the enormous, floppy hat-thing on my head that kept falling off. Once it finally succeeded and fell to the stage, my fixation did not end. I proceeded to step on it, stare at it and kick it around with my feet.

A few years later, my parents enrolled me in a youth league soccer program through the local temple. Apparently I was really good at defense because I got to just stand there. Ok, so I know on defense there's normally a lot more to do than just stand there. But that's what I did (and I once got a certificate stating I was excellent on defense...I think they were just trying to make me feel better.) I was scared of the ball and any person coming towards me. I was really good at getting out of the way. I'm sure I was responsible for any goal scored on us. Another funny memory from this experience was when it was a cold day and my mother didn't want me freezing out there so she made me put on a sweatshirt OVER my required uniform. She called me to the side, gave me the sweatshirt and told me to put it on. Well, this sweatshirt just happened to be the same color as the opposing team's! I explained to my mom that I shouldn't put it on, but you know moms...So, I put it on. Of course the refs blew the whistle and made me take it off. How embarrasing!

Eventually I quit dancing and I quit soccer. Obviously I was not cut out for either. I do have to say thought that I regret that my parents didn't push the athletic thing more (even though I wasn't too good). The benefits of participating in a team sport are vast. I know it would have halped me socially. Social situations for me were always a REAL good time. Note the sarcasm.

Many years later I discovered that although physically adept I wasn't, I did have a talent. That of course was singing. I pursued this for a long time and still occasionally do. So, many years passed where I didn't think I'd ever have any athletic ability. Then I met Vic.

Vic is an amazing athlete and coach. He is very accomplished. A couple of years ago, after a little bit of a health wake-up call, we both changed our eating habits. Although he was coaching sports throughout the year, he wasn't exercising as much as he needed to be. Neither of us was. He decided to start running. He said it was the only thing in the past that ever produced results. Well, the supporter I am, I decided to run with him, two left feet and all! Of course I was also had that competitive edge going for me too...despite not being skilled in sports, I still enjoyed the excitement of competition; watching it and also being a part of it (think karaoke contests and auditions for lead roles). I felt if he's going to run, then dammit I'm going to run too and I'm going to keep up with him to boot! So, we began running. Vic loves competition as well and loves challenging himself. He also hates being bored. He felt if he's going to run, then he needed to have some kind of goal to look forward to and stive for. He had always wantd to run a 5K and now he had a reason to train for one!

We began going to the track at the local HS. I never imagined that I'd be able to run (I always twisted my ankles with any attempt in the past) but figured I'd try! I had to start off slow and go very little distance. But I was determined. No longer idle would I be! At first I would run just half a lap and then walk the rest, then run half and walk the rest. Eventually I was able to run a whole lap without stopping. Little by little my endurance built and after starting running in July, three times a week, we ran our first 5K in September. I was impressed with the both of us. We finished the 5K and didn't die! We became obsessed with running 5Ks. They're a lot of fun. They usually have refreshments afterwards and award ceremonies; it's an event. Plus it felt good donating to various charitable causes. It definitely made the training much more fun knowing we had something to look forward to! We get excited buying new running shoes and we were actually getting recognized by other runners at races (we felt cool). L'il Jess even started running with us...and she's good! Soon enough, she'll be running her first 5K!

In November, I ran a 5K and ended up coming in first in my age group! I actually won an athletic award! I received my plaque with pride. It was rather exciting for this self-professed klutz who's always hurting herself simply by breathing!

So, I guess in some sense I can now consider myself an athlete...with a still very loose usage of the word!

I Love Airports

I love airports. No, Really. I love airports. I even get excited passing BY an airport. Even when I'm stuck in traffic on the Grand Central passing by LGA, I get a little twinge of excitement! Where's everybody going? What's everybody doing? And when is MY next trip going to be? But the best part is when I'm in the airport going on my very own journey. I love getting to he airport super early. I have no problem going to the Hudson Newsstand and picking up some silly magazine, stopping at the Starbucks for a decaf Mocha with soy milk or maybe a caramel apple cider sans the whip. I find my little place, a seat somewhere near my gate and just chill. It's really rather relaxing. I mean, there's nothing else I can or have to do at that very moment. It's almost like I'm forced to relax, which when I'm at home, is very difficult to do! I'm always finding something that has to get done. And although I'm surrounded by a multitude of complete strangers, I still feel like this is valuable "me" time.

I love watching all the people. I love secretly making fun of some of the people (in my inner voice of course, or at least low whispers with Vic.) I once saw a person waiting to board a plane who wore a spiked metal collar and other metal accoutrements all over his outfit and sneakers. I wished I had been around to see him walk through the metal detector. I still wondered how they could allow him on a plane at all. Other times, I watch women who are dressed to the nines. They have on spike-heeled boots that look like they were bought right off the runway (no pun intended) with uncomfortably-looking tight jeans, or sometimes they wear stilettos with skirts. I wonder how on earth they will be comfortable on the plane. I wonder why they'd actually opt to be uncomfortable on a plane ride. No one's really impressed with how well people are dressed on a plane, at least I'm not. This is of course different from men and women in business suits who are obviously flying right to a professional meeting without an opportunity to change. I see families dressed as though they're going out for an evening at the country club. the husband, (Biff) is wearing beige slacks, a Chaps sweater with a light blue, striped collared shirt underneath. The wife, (Muffy) pushing the double-wide stroller while carrying two oversized, designer bags is dressed in what appears to be a sun dress made for a morning jaunt on a yacht. The kids, well, they're miniature versions of Biff and Muffy.

I love looking at all the boards by each gate, reading all the different destinations, wondering if I'll ever go there. I wonder what each place is like-if I've never been. I imagine different trips I could take. I imagine what would happen if I just decided to get onto another plane to a completely different destination than my own ('cause sometimes I wonder if they really check those boarding passes carefully when when you're in the boarding line)

I'm intrigued when I hear people's names being announced over the intercom for final boarding. Why aren't they at the gate? Did they get held up in traffic? I always leave so much extra time to allow for traffic. Why didn't they? What happened to them?

I don't even mind waiting for my luggage once I've disembarked. Everyone rushes to the luggage belt as if their bags will spontaneously combust if they're not right there, leaning over the belt, "Is my bag first??" "Is that mine coming around the bend??" I know mine will come eventually. I just find a nice open area at the end of the belt and wait patiently, trying to contain the excitement about my trip.

I know not all trips to the airport can be this enjoyable or entertaining. I know not all people goign to the airport are going for pleasurable reasons. But for me, generally speaking, I love airports...Except of course when I'm there for my return flight back to reality!