Another Blog: Eat At Mom’s dot Net

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This is what you get when you Eat At Mom's!

This is what you get when you Eat At Mom’s!

It’s not like I have tons of time, but I figured over the summer I’d launch a cooking blog. It’s still under construction. Pretty soon I’ll be posting my food creations on the website Eat At Mom’s.

So I’m toggling back and forth between this site and that site and I’m trying to save myself from making the same mistakes I made a few years when I launched lavagal.net. I also want to launch the site with a recipe sorter embedded, to enable easy searches by ingredient or subject. It’s not easy, but it’s WordPress, so it’s not impossible.

Casting doubts on my ambitions to launch this site within the next few days are all of these website designers and companies that come crawling out of the woodwork offering me their services and guarantees about SEO and positive Internet cash flow. I realize they just want to make a few bucks, but the joy of WordPress and launching a website is that point of pride where it’s a labor of love and doesn’t look like it’s squirted out of the same cookie press.

No thanks!

The eventual plan is to migrate recipes here on lavagal.net to eatatmoms.net, publish new recipes, help others figure out ways to use new ingredients, and share our reflections about wonderful meals we had while eating out, at a potluck or a family celebration, and trying to recreate those taste sensations that bring back happy memories — even those from small-kid time.

Are you with me? I hope you’ll subscribe.

Hawaii’s first sexting case.


lavagal:

My blog has been getting a few hits lately, including this entry. It may be a few years since I’ve written it, but I feel it is spot on. Protect children. Please.

Originally posted on Lavagal:

@postaday 211; #postaday2011.

After vicious storms/ The sun breaks through, shining light/ Our hopes are renewed.

A little news hit very close to home yesterday when we found out about Hawaii’s first sexting case. The allegedly guilty party lives in my ‘hood, was an educational aid at Kid1’s school, and is someone I might mutually follow on Twitter. I say might, because there is a person on Twitter with the same name and other Twitter peeps indicate it is the same person.

Men and women. Men and children. Women and children. Men and men. Women and women. Children and children. When the world is right, these can all be healthy relationships and friendships. Unfortunately, the world is not right.

Child pornography is a disease that is willingly spread among adults the world over. If you’ve ever seen it and were not horrified by it, then I don’t think you understand my point. I think it is a horrific theft of a childhood…

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And From Death We Get Alone Time

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It’s been a week since Aunt Mary Lou died. It was early in the morning, in her home, as though she fell asleep for the last time.

When I heard the news, I hustled to book a flight, a rental car and a hotel room. I was airborne Thursday afternoon and touched down in Philly by 1130 Friday morning. I visited my sister at her salon and then joined my mother and Uncle Ralph, a new widower, for dinner Friday evening. Saturday was the viewing, funeral mass, burial and celebration at Taylor’s Sports Restaurant and Bar on the Black Horse Pike.

Aunt Mary Lou has 10 grandchildren, all in their 20s and 30s. They took the long center table at Taylor’s. I know these kids. Three of them lost their mother, our eldest cousin Maureen, in a motorcycle accident. We are incomplete because Maureen is gone, but you have to make do. Her three children have become adults without her guidance. It cannot be easy. And no matter how hard a man tries, it’s pretty tough to be both parents. My heart is heavy for them.

At the viewing I got to see my cousins for the first time in a couple of years. They stood in a reception line as Aunt Mary Lou’s friends and family came through to pay their respects. I observed my cousins as they spoke with people who came to them, sharing their memories and sharing tears. Every time someone came through, the reception line would be brought to tears again. It had to be exhausting, I hope it was cathartic. In an open casket was Aunt Mary Lou. She wore a scarf and her hands clutched a rosary of red crystals. She was my Godmother.

Because I have been away for so long, I have grown apart from my family. This trip to New Jersey really showed me how much I have changed. The most significant change is my lack of a lead foot when behind the wheel. Thank goodness I’m in a rental car with Florida plates because I’m pretty certain I frustrate the heck out of every driver on these roads. I would be driving along on a back-country road (Yes, South Jersey is loaded with them) at 35mph and see a sign that says the speed limit is 50 (as indicated by the headlights behind me).

As a family member, I’m an outsider. I am not here enough to know all the goings on, who is doing what, what children and grandchildren are up to, who needs a prescription, who needs new eyeglasses, who is vegan, who is vegetarian, who’s staying married, who’s getting divorced, who’s struggling with what.

Every time I show up is a good time, even now. When I visit, and this has always been the case for the 36 years I have not lived in New Jersey, we all get together and have fun. Barbecues, parties, out to dinner, to the beach, all kinds of excursions.

Life goes on when someone we love dies. While we have to drop everything to take care of the details of death, we (and I mean my cousins mostly) must resume as soon as possible the matters of life. This time there weren’t any get togethers after Saturday and Sunday. I would imagine everyone has to go back to work, catch up with laundry, and live life.

So I am alone in my hotel room. I have paid my respects, I have offered my support, I have arrived to give Aunt Mary Lou my farewell in person. My cousins were so appreciative of my being here because I had come so far. Each of them is worth the trip. It was what I needed to do.

Tonight friends met with me at Ott’s Tavern in Delran. I spread myself too thin. I didn’t get to talk to any one person enough. It was enough and it wasn’t enough. When we are kids we have no idea how valuable time is. Now that we are older, we should. It is nearly priceless.

This is my contemplation. Time is swift. I will soon be checking out of my hotel room, driving myself to the airport, and getting myself from here to Hawaii, traveling solo through Philadelphia, Houston, LAX and HNL, where my husband will take me home where I belong.

They say they miss me. It is a wonderful thing to know.

 

 

2014 Honu Ironman 70.3: Racing Against My Own Demons

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Finisher. For the record: 08:23:56, 12 minutes slower than last year.

Finisher. Official medal and Cookies by Design edible medal from Bonnie Leong. For the record: 08:23:56, 12 minutes slower than last year. Swim, bike and transitions were minutes slower. But my run, despite my walking quite a bit, was faster. Amazing.

No matter how well you train, if your body doesn’t respond, react or deliver as expected on race day there really isn’t much you can do about it.

It was perplexing for me. Throughout the race my body was not responding to my directions. I couldn’t figure out what was wrong, except that I worked so much the weeks before and didn’t get in enough rest. And believe it or not, it is possible for ME (YES ME) to not eat enough before and during a race.

I had the best training! I was part of a great (and large) group for Endurance Triathlon Training with Boca Hawaii. The fast kids were gracious, the well-established kids were welcoming, and the coaches were supportive. It was so incredible, that I signed up for Summer Triathlon Training, which begins Saturday, June 6, in preparation for the inaugural Boca Hawaii Kawela Triathlon later this summer. After my Honu results, and after a sort of decent night’s sleep (despite the high-maintenance cat), I’m feeling it.

I’m feeling that triathlon thing again and it’s all good.

Pros in white caps, men in blue caps, women in pink caps. Officials. Spectators. Photographers. Kids. It's crazy. We're all nuts.

Pros in white caps, men in blue caps, women in pink caps. Officials. Spectators. Photographers. Kids. It’s crazy. We’re all nuts.

Here’s my blow by blow.

When we arrived on Friday morning in Kailua-Kona and were driving north in our rental car to the Fairmont Orchid hotel, I was giddy. I was loving the hot, fresh-out-of-the-oven baked brownies look of the lava fields, I was admiring the beautiful deep blue ocean, I loved the dark and ominous clouds that clung to the volcano summits.

“I have to find a way to live here,” I said to my husband. “I feel like this is where I belong.”

We would need a few million dollars, that’s all.

We didn’t have much time to shop for a new home or to make a land purchase, so we went straight to the Fairmont so I could check in to the Ironman 70.3 event. I needed to get my race packet, sign several releases, get my race chip, pack and leave my run bag, check into the hotel, attend a mandatory race briefing, pick up my bike, sweet talk the TriBike Transport guys to put the new tires on my wheels so I’d have fresh rubber on the road the next day, and get dressed to ride my bike to Hapuna Beach Park to set it up at the bike start. After that we went to Foodland up the street to pick up some sandwiches and bottles of water. I slept well until 3:30 a.m. and had coffee and breakfast with John. We met our friends Rick and Lori in the elevator and they graciously gave us a ride to the start, so we didn’t have to take the shuttle bus. That was so great!

First swimmer on the beach. So eager! So ready! No idea how the day would go, but that's really how it is for anyone.

First swimmer on the beach. So eager! So ready! No idea how the day would go, but that’s really how it is for anyone.

I was the first athlete down the chute and to the beach. I heard the little beep as it read my race chip when I walked under the giant inflatable that hovered over the checkpoint for transition one from swim to bike. I was in my new Aquasphere skinsuit, I was at the most beautiful beach in th world, and I was eager to achieve a personal record on my second Ironman 70.3. My day didn’t go as planned. Before the horn blew at 7 a.m. for the women to start swimming, the wind picked up and the sun was hot on our backs. The weather had announced itself: hot and windy.

Honu 2014 women's start.

Honu 2014 women’s start.

I hovered in the back of the pack at the start of the swim, and I felt good as I worked my way up and through the other women. Before I got to the first buoy, I was already passing some of the men who launched seven minutes before us. In fact, I passed quite a few by the time I got to the finish. I felt like my swim was going well, I didn’t lose sight of the yellow buoys that I needed to swim around. I spotted underwater photographers taking our pictures from the sandy floor. I thought how so cool those photos would be.

Swim to bike transition. See how happy everyone is around me? I just realized my time was slower than last year.

Swim to bike transition. See how happy everyone is around me? I just realized my time was slower than last year.

I got out of the water and saw that my time was seven minutes longer than last year’s. I was so defeated. The evil self talk began and stayed with me most of the day. After all this training, how could I be so slow?

My transition from swim to bike was about two minutes longer, but I was changing out of a skinsuit, putting on sunguard sleeves and getting into a bicycle jersey while soaking wet. My coaches told us to slow down and be deliberate during transition because haste makes waste. So I didn’t worry.

Headed north to Hawi from the Mauna Lani turnaround, 50 miles to go.

Headed north to Hawi from the Mauna Lani turnaround, 50 miles to go.

The bike is my thing, most of the time. But it would not be the case during Honu. Last year I finished the bike segment in 03:38. This year it took me 03:57, 19 minutes longer, on a spiffier and lighter new Cervelo P2 bike, too. I have a very difficult time eating on the bike. I can’t stand it. I also don’t like to drink, but I force myself to use my aerobottle. By the time I got to Hawi, I thought to myself how I was so DONE with this race. It took me nearly two hours to get up there. How in the world would I beat last year’s time of 03:38? I was defeated. I used the bathroom, drank two Power Gel lime drinks and ate a Bonk Breaker bar. It was wonderful. I felt better and I got back on the bike feeling refreshed. I bet I spent 12 minutes up there, but I needed it. I couldn’t believe that it was taking me so long to get up to Hawi. I was worried it would take me another two hours to get back, and it just about did.

Honu 2014 finishing the bike and telling John how I'm worried I won't finish in time.

Honu 2014 finishing the bike and telling John how I’m worried I won’t finish in time.

I saw my husband John as I was rolling back toward bike-to-run transition and I said, “At this rate, I don’t see how I’ll finish on time.” He smiled, encouraged me, and clicked off a few pictures. Later he told me that he felt I might be right.

I worked on the self talk. And fortunately, I had lots of teammates and friends on the course whose encouraging words put some steam in my steps. I am one of those people who needs the attagirls. You can look at my Garmin stats and see the points of encouragement. My pace picks up, my heart rate bumps up a little bit, and I get a little more positive. If it weren’t for my friends Janet, Kristin, Miriam, KC, Marcy, Karen, Lisa and Eric, I might have finished well outside the cutoff. Especially Janet and Miriam. Such compassion!

At the start of my run I realized I had a water bottle in my back pocket so I tossed it aside as I went by John. I also had a tire tube but I didn't realize it until miles later.

This year’s run was 03:23:59 compared to last year’s run of 03:32. I am amazed I was faster this year because I was truly struggling. But I was determined to finish in time and I had to get my act together. The running training paid off. I still have a lot of room for improvement.

Last year’s run was 03:32. I don’t think I did any walking except for at the aid stations and only until I was finished eating or drinking. I cannot eat, drink, and walk or run at the same time. Such a dork. I’d throw up. This year I did a lot of walking. The Honu run course weaves in and out of the hotel grounds, the hotel’s golf course, through lava fields, behind the shopping center, and back onto the golf course lined with beautiful homes where we run along the fairways. Yesterday it was so steamy hot that I dreaded walking on the grassy parts of the route. It seemed to radiate with so much heat. Finally the course dumps you on to what many of us refer to as Death March Road, which is hotter than heck possibly because it is through more lava. It isn’t smoldering, it is just black and very, very, hot. It was on this road, from miles nine through 11, that I saw a herd of wild goats. Now my friends think I was hallucinating. I wasn’t. They were there!

I ran the first three miles of the 13.1-mile course, then I started walking. First I saw Janet who checked on me from across the road. She was way ahead of me. Then my teammate Marian came up from behind me and cheered me on. We ran together a little bit and then I said to her, “You know, I might have to start walking again, so don’t worry about me.” She started walking at that point but I was still running. We had a good laugh about it. Eventually she passed me and finished before me.

I will be the first to tell anyone that running is hard for me. I cannot stand to run. But running has helped me dropped a little bit of weight, so I’m starting to see the value in doing it more often.

When I emerged from Death March Road, two course marshals told me I had 28 minutes to cover 1.5 miles. Even if I walked, I could finish on time. But I was in pretty bad shape. I was really sad. I thought I spent all this time and money training for my A Race and I was going to miss finishing it on time by minutes. My dream of coming in under eight hours was shot to hell.

Once again I wrestled with my demons. I started to run the best I could. It was more of a crappy jog, but it was faster than walking. I reached the last stretch of golf course and I saw two nene geese in the shade to my left. I love nature. I swear, I look around a lot when I do my triathlons. Maybe I should do less sightseeing?

First there was Lori and Rick and the TryFitness group to holler their support at me as I struggled to beat the clock. John ran alongside me for a little bit — barefoot in the hot grass — and told me that I had it, that I was going to make it, that I would finish on time and get that medal.

I turned the corner, made my final approach and finished the 2014 Honu Ironman 70.3  in 08:23:56, compared to last year’s 08:12: 25.

I wasn’t that upset because I finished before 08:30 the cutoff. And when I got through the finisher’s shoot, my Boca Hawaii coaches and teammates were cheering for me, which was the nicest thing ever — considering most of them had probably finished hours before me. What’s nicer than a group of friends lubed by beer and burgers anyway?

Triathlon is a mental game. Where the winners compete with each other, people like me compete with ourselves. But we don’t just compete against last year’s time or our personal records. We have to beat down the voices that diminish our effort. We have to tell our legs to shut up when they throb and feel too heavy to move. We have to protect ourselves from the flailing arms and legs in the swim and then, when we emerge from the ocean, beat the vertigo, get up on our feet without wobbling, and heave all the way up the sand to transition.

Each race is a transition in our lives. Finishing is an accomplishment that affirms we’ve got within ourselves something more powerful than we know. Part of my future training will have to include mental pushups that will keep me from slipping into the abyss of self loathing.

And (are you still here? still reading?) I also know that I have to not eat so much after a workout. That’s something else I can take care of right now.

I have some wonderful coaches in Boca Hawaii owner Raul Torres, and Ryan Leong, Filipe Rael, Stefan Reinke, Alika Chee, Ray Brust, Lee-Ann Watanabe and Todd Iacovelli. While I continue to improve physically, I want to also work on my mental fitness so that I can push the crap out of my mind faster and get on with my race.

 

 

The Young

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The school year is swiftly coming to close with the end in sight: May 29. What an education this has been for me!

I don’t regret signing on as a substitute teacher for the Hawaii Department of Education, although I do have moments when I feel the attention span of children is about as easy to grip as greased rope. At the moment, I’m in a prep period for a teacher for whom I’ve subbed four days now. The class is quiet. The windows open to a densely wooded area and I am now hearing a bird sing. I wonder what it is?

The seventh-grade students in my science classes have been working on a PowerPoint presentation, based on one of five chapters in their text. Essentially, they create the project to teach the chapter. It’s a good stay-busy project. I showed them how to piece out the work into separate slides and to follow the end-of-chapter review to be sure they included all they needed in their presentations.

But I’m not here to babysit or pontificate. I’m here because part of me is still that kid in school who didn’t quite get it all right. I think I’m looking for me. I think I’m looking to help a kid make the right decision about her future. I know now that doing homework means you will be equipped to meet future deadlines. That keeping up with the studies means that the future will deliver something wonderful. Something. Wonderful. Something. Wonderful.

End daydream here.

They work on Apple laptops. I would imagine for about five minutes it was fun to take off computer keys and rearrange the letters into cuss words. But, since these students have never learned how to type QWERTY style, their hunt and peck is frustrating, and the joke is now on them. Brilliant. Will next year’s seventh graders know better? One would hope. I told the office about the computers. There’s a few weeks of school left and who knows if they’ll be refurbished or replaced?

Keys swapped and missing from laptops.

Keys swapped and missing from laptops.

I offered to edit the PowerPoints and fewer than half took me up on it, and each of them was glad they did. I talked to them about using bullets and art to break up big blocks of text. I told them about citing their work and creating a proper bibliography for their final slide. It’s important to me that their teacher feel as though I did more than babysit.

Early this week, three of the boys had “In School Suspension.” Apparently, when a duck flew into their math classroom, they let out their hoots and the substitute reported them. I think my perspective is much different. If there’s an uproar I usually separate the hooligans. If they persist, I give them an opportunity to come to the front of the classroom so everyone can pay attention to them. All of a sudden, no one’s a stand-up comic. It usually settles everyone down. It’s my favorite tactic.

Last night I attended the academic achievement awards ceremony at Kaiser High School, where my Kid1 is a sophomore. I am so pleased for her and proud of her. She was recognized for being a straight-A student, and for her achievements in math and social studies. She runs around with a cerebral crowd, plays viola in the orchestra, and explains youth vernacular to me. Our mailbox and emails are overflowing with queries from colleges and universities eager to enroll her. It is humbling and amazing to me. What’s it like to be her?

I relate more to students who don’t do well in school. When I was their age, I only succeeded in classes where I could write my way into good grades, so I took advantage of that. Math, science and foreign languages were difficult. So when I’m substituting these students, they have no idea how I can relate to their feeling disconnected to the subject. To them I’m an adult in front of the class. For me, it’s more than a babysitting gig. I want to help ignite eureka moments.

Triathlon Training on Hawaii Island

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Last month I joined my Boca Hawaii teammates on a trip to the Big Island of Hawaii to train for the Ironman 70.3 Honu triathlon, scheduled for May 31. We all stayed at the Hapuna Beach Prince Hotel, a sprawling, multiple-towered beachfront resort that could accommodate more than 60 of us with family members, support crews and bicycles — while making sure the rest of their guests had a great time and didn’t have to dodge too many bikes in the elevators. The group rate made this trip reasonably affordable, and Boca Hawaii owner Raul Torres had us all pack and ship our bikes via Aloha Air Cargo. He picked them up at the airport and brought them to the hotel. When we were done, he and the coaches loaded them back into the truck, shipped them in reverse, and we paid the ransom the next morning to spring our bikes. Easy, peasy.

My husband and I had a fabulous ocean-view room with a king-sized bed and a giant flat-screen TV to match. I put snacks, coconut water and wine in the fridge. The bathroom was bigger than our bedroom! I could get used to resort living! He always tells me: “Get that novel published!” I didn’t get much of a chance to relax in the fancy robe and hang out on the lanai and take in the view because we were so busy!

Fortunately, we were able to enjoy dinner at Cafe Pesto, where a lot of us decided to eat on Friday. After our Saturday seminar and swim, we also had a nice dinner together on one of the lawns, and it was fun to get to know the other teammates better. We pried and found out how some couples met, including Raul and Hina. There are still some stories that need to be told!

This May 31 will be my second Honu. I am seeking to improve on my first effort of finishing in 08:12 last year. No, that’s not eight minutes and twelve seconds. It’s eight hours and twelve minutes! Thanks to my training with Boca Hawaii, I’m optimistic that I’ll be a bit faster despite being a year older.

My husband and I arrived Friday afternoon in time for me to join the scheduled run. That morning, those who had arrived on Thursday rode their bikes north to Hawi, as per the bicycle route of this event, and encountered winds that gusted beyond 50 mph. In fact, one of our stronger triathletes fell, busted up his bike and separated his shoulder (for the third time in his triathlon career). My teammates were humbled by the conditions, worried about our teammate, and were very tired from the effort, the first of eight or nine workouts schedule for the weekend. I wasn’t disappointed that I had missed the ride!

The wind on Saturday morning at Hapuna Beach. Training in windy conditions pays off. We all went in for the swim.

The wind on Saturday morning at Hapuna Beach. Training in windy conditions pays off. We all went in for the swim.

The winds didn’t die down, so Raul and the rest of our coaches decided to shelve Saturday’s ride up to Hawi and beyond. They swapped the Sunday and Saturday workouts, so we started Saturday morning, which was still quite windy, with a swim in Hapuna Bay. This bay is my absolute favorite to swim in. It is crystal clear, you can watch sand swish in the currents below, and there are lots of fish and turtles to watch. We had several swims scheduled, and I wish I could have just jumped in one more time on Sunday after our big bike ride and run.

Getting briefed by Raul Torres before our morning swim in Hapuna Bay.

Getting briefed by Raul Torres before our morning swim in Hapuna Bay.

Following the swim we had our long run. Hills and heat, beach sand and coral, through the woods and along the resorts, the conditions were varied and tested us. I nearly fell a few times, the toe of my running shoes got caught on a tree root or I’d misstep on coral or lava rocks. It was all an education on how to cope, how to overcome, how to do our best. I got to use my new Nathan hydration belt and I have to admit it was flawless. Snug enough not to slosh on me, I could forget I was wearing it. That’s a ringing endorsement!

The long run, still fresh during the first half.  Rick Keen photo.

The long run, still fresh during the first half. Rick Keen photo.

Running is my weakest triathlon leg, so I really need to get better at it. Last night we were running the hills at Kakaako Waterfront Park, and it’s such a test for me. But I know that each day I get better and stronger. During Honu, the run is at the hottest time of the day. I’ll need to hydrate and eat while on the bike to deter bonking during the run. I’ve got a month of practice to improve on this part, and my coaches have really been helpful about my form and pace.

Ready to ride to Hawi and beyond on Sunday morning. Wind wasn't as strong, thank goodness.

Ready to ride to Hawi and beyond on Sunday morning. Wind wasn’t as strong, thank goodness.

We did get to ride up to Hawi on Sunday. Some of the more seasoned and fit triathletes rode their bikes to the end of the road, which included a lot of hills and the reward of a gorgeous view. Knowing that I’d have to run, I turned around at Hawi after having a mocha and a hard boiled egg at the cafe. The wind did die down, but not completely. There are embankments into which the road is carved, and when we first exit their shelter the wind whipped us sideways. My new bike, a 2014 Cervelo P2, caught the wind more than my old Scattanti did. I was glad for the exercise in maintaining balance as the wind toyed with me on both my climb and descent. I was also glad I didn’t refamiliarize myself with the wind and hills on the new bike on wind-swept Friday!

Despite the busy Sunday schedule, we managed to check out on time and got to do a little bit more sightseeing. I am crazy about the Big Island. I’d love to live there if I could swim at Hapuna Beach everyday! I guess I should really finish that novel!

We had a little bit time before our flight back to go exploring.

We had a little bit time before our flight back to go exploring.

 

Smile, and the Whole World Smiles With You


A year ago I wasn’t smiling on the inside, but I smiled on the outside when I parted ways with my confining corporate cube. I was worried, but I never let it show. My friends congratulated me on my leap of faith, which felt more like a free fall, a shove off the top floor.

I am so grateful for those of you who continued to give me support. It wasn’t an easy time.

A year later, I’m still breathing. I let the anniversary pass with just a comment to my husband. I was glad it was on a weekend. I didn’t give it much thought. I was busy preparing for my Lanikai Triathlon, in which I scored a personal record, a personal victory, a slam-dunk and nail-that-coffin-shut-for-good sense of closure.

On the bright side, last Fall I took the state’s substitute teaching certification course and have been spending time with public school students K-12 on any given day. I love the hours and I love that someone else makes a teaching plan for me so they can take a personal day.

On another bright side, the freelance writing assignments continue. I wasn’t sure how much writing I would get, but my assignments at Hawaii Business Magazine have kept me busy and relevant in the local market. I am having stories published by Chaminade and Hawaii Pacific University, and am talking now with four more entities about writing for them. Freelance writing takes a lot of discipline. I can’t chuck it all for a bike ride, run or a go in the kayak if I have a looming deadline. And if I need to reach sources, I have to connect with them during normal business hours. With each article written the bonds of trust between an editor and I are reinforced. That’s important if I want more work!

Finally, the flexibility of freelancing and substitute teaching gives me more time with my family and it has given me more time to train for triathlons. I signed on with Boca Hawaii for training not only to challenge my body, but for encouragement when I’m feeling fragile on the inside. Last night one of my coaches asked me how I was doing. I told him I was tired. He said he could tell, gave me a little shoulder rub and a few encouraging words. The afterglow of a workout is uplifting, and I’m always glad when I go. There are about 40 of us in the Endurance Triathlon Training group and I know I’m not the only one feeling wiped out this week, but it’s all part of a great plan that will come to fruition on the Big Island next month for Ironman 70.3.

I am so fortunate. I have a supportive and loving husband, two brilliant daughters who remind me of my true worth each day, friends who welcome me flaws and all, and a growing queue of editors who take a chance on me and like what they see.

A year later my inside smile matches my outside smile.