Ready! Set! Trot!

You'd think I would have learned something from my Warrior Dash experience, but no, it turns out I am a glutton for punishment. The Sunday before Thanksgiving, my mother called and asked Jackson and me to run the Turkey Trot, or Holden Road Race, with her on Thanksgiving morning.  "It's just a 5k and it will be fun, then we can eat as much pie and turkey as we want!"

My mother presented an excellent point. You see, as a young couple, with both of our families in the area, we often attend two Thanksgiving dinners.  Each year, we try to pace ourselves, just eating small portions, skipping some sides with the expectation we will eat the butternut squash at the next meal, but it is normally easier said than done.  I love Thanksgiving. I love each and every side dish you can imagine: cranberry sauce, bread stuffing (or dressing if you are from the south), meat stuffing, green bean casserole, sweet potatoes, gravy, mashed potatoes, peas, carrots, rolls [although they were suspiciously missing from my family's meal this year], ... the list goes on.  It is extremely difficult to see your favorite foods, warm and delicious, sitting in front of you and not want to have at least a bite, if not a heaping helping. So, with my horrible track record of not scaling back, I agreed to race.

To prepare for race day, I had every intention of doing a few practice miles around my neighborhood park.  Unfortunately, the weather was not in agreement with my plans.  So, I was trotting cold turkey.  I hadn't even attempted to run in at least 3 months.  Sometimes I think that I'm asking to be injured...

Because this was a last minute decision, Jack, Mom and I arrived extremely early to register.  We wanted to make sure we didn't have to wait in a long line and we wanted to snag t-shirts before they ran out.  Registration is $25 a person and it goes to the Wachussett Food Bank, so kudos for this being a for a good cause.  We filled out our waivers, paid our fees and were told that they were already out of t-shirts. Bummer, but I moved on quickly to a more important topic, IT WAS FREEZING.

I'm not sure if I have mentioned this in any prior posts, but I honestly hate the cold.  I must have poor circulation or something because I am always chilled and my fingers turn blue on a fairly regular basis.  My teeth spend most of the winter chattering and it's not unusual for me to resemble the little brother from a Christmas Story due to the amount of layers I sport through the winter months.  I kid you not.

After registering, to escape from the cold, we retreated back to my car and blasted the heat. We watched the parking lot fill up (the race starts at a Big Y -a local grocery chain) and listened to Acoustic Sunrise, the Thanksgiving addition.  I hate to go off on an extreme tangent, but it must be said.  If you don't spend your Sunday mornings listening to Acoustic Sunrise, you are missing out.  Several radio stations option it and it is amazing.  I wouldn't lie to you. 

Alright, race time.  This time, we stood at the back, not like that Warrior Dash fiasco.  My mother and I decided we would stay together and let Jackson and his long legs go as far ahead of us as he wanted.  It was really really cold while we waited for the actual start of the race and by the time we got the go ahead, I was a little numb.  This may have been a good thing.  I couldn't feel any discomfort from running during the first mile, because I couldn't feel my feet. Mom and I found a decent pace and were feeling pretty confident through mile one.  We had decided before the start that our goal was to finish the race without stopping or walking, not to win it.

The race itself was an exciting experience.  It was fun to see all of the families, friends and pets running through the roads of Holden.  I had a golden retriever who was particularly fond of running next to me and sniffing me for about a quarter mile.  Many Holden residents stood on their lawns waving and cheering us on or had signs of encouragement for family and friends.  It was sweet and charming. 

Back to the running.  At the 1.5 mile mark, I was contemplating walking.  My shins hurt and I could feel me feet again.  I was getting tired and there was a hill up ahead.  As we reached the base of the hill my mother said to me "This is where I say to myself, if I count to 50 the hill will be over." I decided to take her advice and followed her little pep talk and began counting.  Unfortunately, I was way over 50 when we reached the top.  The hill was deceptively large - not steep but kind of rolling.  My mother sheepishly said "Oops" a few seconds later, but the good news was that after the hill I didn't feel like walking any more.  We powered through the next mile like champs.

I had no idea what the race path was going to look like, but I did know that you ended back where you started.  I also know that we started running down hill, so I correctly assumed that we'd have to run up that hill to finish.  I paced myself accordingly.  What I didn't account for was that we actually finished further up the hill than our origin point, so as I was about to turn into the parking lot to reach my assumed finish line, a "helpful" gentleman waved me on saying "Keep climbing, you are almost there." I gave him the stink eye, but continued on my way.

Mom and I finished the race strong and Jackson was waiting for us a few paces before the end clapping and cheering.  It was the perfect way to finish the race and to start Thanksgiving.  I then went on to eat my weight in pie...  just kidding! Kind of....

We'll probably be running again next year.  I'll be sure to register early to get a t-shirt!  Hope to see you there!

Until next time,
<3K

Back off Oscar Meyer, we don't want your BallParks around here...

Today I bring to you a post about a Worcester institution.  A place that might actually be the most recognizable spot in in the city.  Anyone who grew-up here has a memory or story about this particular restaurant.  It's a big deal.

courtesy of worcestermag.com via google image search - not mine!

Yup.  Coney Island Hot Dogs. This place is like a time warp and my god is it awesome. There's something so simplistically brilliant about a hot dog restaurant.  Sure they have other things on the menu, but quite frankly you aren't really supposed to order them.  (Okay, okay, someone ordered a hamburger the last time I was there, but I know everyone around was rightfully judging them.) They have an ingenious business model and an established brand that keeps a steady line at lunch and makes them a household name. 

My childhood memories of Coney Island all include my father.  It was a go-to lunch spot after a midday doctor's appointment.  It seems to be a haven for dads and young children still to this day.  I am guessing it must be some sort of unwritten Worcester code that fathers must bring their child to Coney Island for a hot dog covered in ketchup after they have gone through the traumatic experience of getting a vaccination or blood drawn. To combat tears, instead of the hug or kiss because of an "oww-ie" or "boo-boo," Worcester dads heal wounds with chocolate milk and the messiest lunch available.  And god bless them for it, seriously.  

It occurs to me that my favorite Coney Island memories aren't even my own.  My uncle, father and older cousins tell stories about my grandfather putting them to work throughout the summer, doing some excessive landscaping, house-building or other rigorous job and if you've made acceptable progress by noontime he'd bring you a Coney Island hotdog for lunch.  If you were particularly successful he might throw in a bag of chips, too.

Walking into Coney Island for the first time in 12 years, I realized it hasn't changed a bit since my grandfather was stopping in decades ago. Stepping through the doors has you wondering if you've just joined the cast of Pleasantville. Old oak booths line the walls and center aisle, and a the counter servers still cater to the inevitable long line of the lunch rush. Over the decades, patrons have etched notes, names, dates, quotes and other colorful verses into the wooden seating, and while it may detract from the appeal at first glance, there is something comforting and unique about the environment it fosters.  To my knowledge, they've never tried to sand and re-stain the booths, the graffiti is part of the decor.

Two new items stood out to me.  First, the jukebox had been updated with cds of "newer" artists, as in the last decade.  No one was using it, but I did note it's presence.  Second, because Coney Island is still CASH ONLY, they have an ATM in an adjoining space that holds a bar room.  I, personally, had never noticed the bar room and can't really comment on it.  But, it's existence didn't really surprise me. 

So, moving on with my tale... I grabbed some cash, because I was stupidly unprepared to pay with cash and got in line. Coney Island is like a well-oiled machine when it comes to their hot dogs.  There is a system and they are prepared for the seasoned veteran and the new-comer alike.  They are "at-the-ready" waiting for your order and they are so quick that it is as if magically your hot dogs appear.  They even have their own lingo for your toppings, such as "up" or "with sauce."  I'm not going to tell you what each is, the fun of ordering is in the adrenaline rush that comes with trying to figure out what the hell everyone is talking about. They have some pretty awesome sides too, like gigantic pickles and baked beans.  They offer polar beverages and possibly Wachusett potato chips, but they might be just a generic brand. 

Anyway, the best part is that the food is so cheap! I think it is $1.50 per hot dog and I'm pretty sure that includes any toppings you want.  I paid for lunch for two people and spent less than $10, with 2 sides and 2 drinks.  Amazing, right? I know.

So, it is almost lunch time, head to Coney Island and let me know what you think.  I give it two very enthusiastic thumbs up and gold star for added effect!

<3 K

More Americana than a Norman Rockwell illustration

About a week and a half ago, I convinced my dear friend Lara to accompany me on what I will call the cliche New England Sunday. On the agenda: Horseback riding, apple picking, pie baking, football watching, and pumpkin ale drinking. It was going to be a blast...

Here's the catch, both Lara and I love the idea of being outdoorsy, country folk, but in actuality we are about as urban as you get.  We agree to these nostalgic outings of mountain climbing, bike-riding, kayaking, nature photography, etc and then realize that we aren't totally comfortable with natural environment. We appreciate the beauty of the landscape, foliage, and animal life, but we wish it was always accompanied with bottles of antibacterial, air freshener, and bug spray. You laugh, but I'm serious.

Anyway, we began our Sunday at 7:30AM with a quick trip to Dunkin Donuts for coffee and drove to Princeton, MA.  We ohhed and aahhed over the changing leaves and quaint towns we passed by as we neared our destination, Cornerstone Ranch.  I found Cornerstone Ranch through a Groupon for a 2 hour trail ride. They claimed to cater to novice riders.  Besides the fact I adore her, I invited Lara along because like me, she'd never ridden a horse.  I mean, we'd both been on pony rides as children, but had never been in control (or were under the guise we were in control) of these large animals.  So as we pulled into the ranch and signed our liability forms, we were a little nervous about what was to come next. 

The people who work at/own the ranch were bring the horses out of the barn and readying them for the ride, while the rest of us stood around chatting.  Most were chatting about there previous riding experiences and how beautiful the horses were.  Our conversation was a little different.

Lara: This helmet really smells. I think I'm going to gag.
Me: *trying to wipe dirt from my boots* I didn't expect to get so dirty already.  I should haven't worn designer boots, huh?
Lara: *pointing to some ponies* Do you think they'll let me ride one of those? I'm small and they look about my size.
Me: Do you think it will be really buggy out there? I hate mosquitoes.
Lara: We are so urban....

Let's fast forward a bit.  We've been instructed to each bring a horse into a fenced off riding area and line them up.  (I was informed that my helmet was on backwards and I should probably fix it.)  We spent several minutes being paired off with horses and the guide helped us climb into the saddles and prepare to ride.  She was uber helpful and gave several excellent instructions on how to make the horse go, "Git up," slow down, "Easy," and stop, "Whoa."  Seemed easy enough.  She mentioned that some of the horses were stubborn and we shouldn't be afraid to give them a good kick with our heels to get them moving or even use our reigns to lightly smack them and if completely necessary, take a thin stick and us it as a crop (mostly for the new pony on the ride).  This made me pause, but I decided I would just go with it and let things fall where they may. 

This is where things get interesting. As we are getting ready to leave, the guide turns to me and says, "Your horse is called Louie.  You look pretty comfortable up there, so I normally wait to tell people this until after the ride, but you'll be okay.  Louie was a wild Mustang.  You can see he has a brand (some type of dye not fire and poker kind of brand) there from the wrangler who captured him.  He has more of a survival instinct than the others, so you might have to be a little forceful with him. Alright? Great." She smiled and we started on our way. Except, I hadn't said alright, I hadn't nodded my head, I had sat there on top of Louie looking panicked and trapped and completely helpless. But, as I was too stunned to speak up, Louie decided we should follow the crowd and head to the trial.

I decided right then and there that my horse, with his superior survival instincts, knew better than I did about what we should be doing. If Louie wanted to take a break, we'd take a break, if he wanted a drink, he'd have a drink of water and if he wanted to take off in the other direction, I wasn't going to stop him.  As long as he didn't mind me coming for the ride, we were going to be fine. I told Louie this as well, in a soothing voice.  I kept up both of our ends of the conversation and decided that we'd be good friends. If he kept calm, cool and collected, I would keep the pesky flies and mosquitoes off the parts of his back and ears he couldn't reach.  I think the woman on the horse behind me thought I was insane.

The trial ride was pretty relaxing and Louie seemed to know what he was doing.  A few times I had to ask him nicely to move and stay out of the branches so I wasn't decapitated, but no need for any excessive force.  Unfortunately, that wasn't the case for Lara.  She was on a younger horse, Hope.  Hope was new to the trail rides and, we came to find out, had recently had her first set of horse shoes attached (ouch!).  I guess Hope was hesitant when getting to a certain part of the path because before her shoes, the gravel was difficult on her hooves.  The part of the trail prior to the gravel happened to be in the middle of the road.  So, poor Lara was stuck on an unmoving horse, blocking traffic in the middle of a street.  From a few horses back, I heard her say, "Please move Hope, please. We've got to get going."  From in front of Lara, the guide was telling her to give Hope a few good kicks. Lara hesitated and I knew why.  Who would kick a horse? Honestly, isn't the cruel?  PETA and the humane society would be throwing paint at us or something.  So Lara tried her best to keep pleading with the horse to no avail.  Finally, much to her dismay, she gave Hope a slight kick. Nothing.  The guide was climbing off her horse and trying to get Lara to kick Hope again and harder until she started moving.  Lara really didn't want to kick Hope, but she also didn't want to be road kill, so she shut her eyes and gave hope a few swift kicks and Hope started moving.  I felt terrible for my friend and saw Lara apologize profusely to the horse afterward. 

We had a few more hiccups with stubborn horses, but for the most part the ride was relaxing and enjoyable.  My wild Mustang kept me out of danger and skillfully managed to take us up and down some pretty steep hills.  Louie is alright in my book and seemed to have entirely agreed to the terms and conditions I laid out at the start of our ride. He didn't even seem to mind that I kept shifting my weight to attempt to lessen the discomfort that the bones in my butt would feel in the hours and days to come... unfortunately, that was wasted effort.

After we said farewell to Hope and Louie -Hope nuzzled Lara and left her with some sticky substances on her jacket (gross!)- we found our way to the kind of nearby Meadowbrook orchards (I had never been there) where we could disinfect our clothing and persons and pick our own apples.  We took our time wandering through the orchard and picking as many Macintosh and Gala apples as our bags could hold, while enjoying the scenery. The layout is lovely, with a pond and Adirondack chairs that look out over the orchards. We stopped in the general store-like restaurant to have some chicken stew and apple cider for lunch and because it was getting later than we expected and we were tired, we bought some frozen pre-made apple pies (something I will never do again). As much as I enjoyed the experience, I doubt I would go back to this orchard, I prefer Brookfield Orchards and their apple dumplings to the pie and unlabeled rows of trees at Meadowbrook.

We ended our day visiting my parents, tasting the seasonal offerings of Sam Adams, including Oktoberfest and Pumpkin lager while watching the Patriots lose and eating the pre-made apple pie.  It was everything that I love about autumn in New England.   I suggest everyone spend a Sunday in October doing the same.

<3 K

Worcester does festivals

Not to sabotage myself, but I'm totally on a roll with my weekly postings! I'm hoping this new found motivation finds its way into other aspects of my life, such as showing up to work on time, cleaning my apartment, getting to the gym... you get the picture.  For now, I'll take my success with the blogging and ride that wave for a while.

It's been said ad nauseam that bad things come in threes.  Well, I don't believe that.  I think when bad things happen, people are just hyper-aware of the other sucky things in their life.  I'm sure millions of people disagree with me, but to those individuals I ask  - what is your explanation when four craptastic things happen to me in a short period of time? Have I begun a second series of three that will only bring about more despair?  I hope not.

To combat this dreary outlook, I present, for your consideration, the opposite that good things come in threes and it appears that downtown Worcester agrees with me.  Last weekend I attend not one, not two, but THREE festivals downtown that were worth blogging about.  When it rains, it pours... (another overused phrase).

1. Open Road Festival.
Location: Institute Park
Theme: Eco-friendly, sustainable, tree-hugging, local artist community
Highlight: Really well designed t-shirts and stellar food vendors.  Evo and Sweet T Southern Kitchen were vying for dominance of the deliciousness market.
Low point: I might still smell of patchouli oil and I really hate patchouli oil.  I know it is often the preferred Eau-de-earth (which I guess is true because I think it smells like dirt), but I can't stand the scent.

This festival, started by a young Worcester native, highlights the local music scene, budding artists, and eco-friendly options for consumers.  It's kid friendly, but not pet friendly (so if you decide to go next year, you have to leave the pooch at home).  We went early in the day, so it was still getting started.  There was a small crowd, but lots of free goodies -granola bars, coconut water, candy - just make sure to recycle your wrappers! Tickets were $10 in advance, $15 at the door, but if you have a Woo Card (yay me!) it was $5 at the door. It was a relaxed atmosphere, where artistically inclined, herb-loving individuals could enjoy one of the last beautiful days of New England summer.


2. Shrewsbury Street College Shuffle
Theme: Giving College kids more food!
Location: Shrewsbury Street participating restuarants
Highlight: Free Sam Adams pint glass from La Scala and peanut butter pancake from Cafe Manzi's
Low point: 25% of the restaurants served pizza, so by stop three we were more than done with pizza for the day.

This event is unfortunately limited to members of the Worcester college community and their families, but honestly, I'm sure you know someone who goes to or works at one of the 10 Worcester colleges. I think it started out as a means for Shrewsbury Street to make even more money and to foster some good intercollegiate relations.  Apparently the colleges of Worcester don't play well with others.  The set up was like your typical "Taste of" event.  We walked from restaurant to restaurant sampling an assortment of Italian foods.  The $10 admission was a steal! The portions were more than any of us could handle and the food was impressive over all.  I was able to try a few places that I had been meaning to check out and no one really disappointed - although beware the Margarita cupcake from Sweet actually has SALT sprinkled in the frosting, it's a strong after-taste to say the least.  I was glad to have a chance to stop by Juniors, my favorite Shrewsbury Street spot, where the WPI Jazz band was playing some great tunes. It was a good time, but I was stuffed by the end.

3. CanalFest!
Theme: Reviving Worcester's 19th Century glory!!
Location: Harding Street (Behind Union Station)
Highlight: The Silverbacks stellar performance, costumed interpreters with working weapons, and NPS rangers!
Low point: A temperature spike of 10 degrees to make it about 80+ degrees Fahrenheit with limited shade available.
Admittedly, at this point we were dragging, but the atmosphere at Canalfest was hopping!  The music was great, seriously, if you haven't seen the Silverbacks, you have to check them out.  The food smelled wonderful, but we were still full from the "Shuffle."  It was great, FREE, family fun.  There was no entrance fee, unlike the other festivals and there was a lot of free entertainment for everyone.  Vendors lined the streets and two large craft tents held a wide variety of gifts, books, toys, and jewelry.  The point of the festival is to raise awareness and funds for the re-opening of the Blackstone Canal.  The National Park Service is trying to revitalize the route of the canal to protect the land and create a more beautiful landscape for hiking and biking, much like Rhode Island has done on the Providence end of the canal.  They had a river simulation where kids could kayak in a "canal-like" pool, to show some of the more adventurous options a re-opened canal would provide.  CanalFest is an annual event that draws a huge crowd and provides a real service to the Worcester community.

Over all it was a great weekend! Maybe next year they can spread it out over a few weeks so I can blog about them separately!!!!

Until next time....
<3 K

Plouffe's Yankee Diner: The Worcester Diner Series

The Worcester Diner Series is still alive! While I've spent just about every weekend this summer traveling, Jack and I made a point to check out Plouffe's Yankee Diner! I realized it had been some time since I'd posted an addition to the Worcester Diner Series (or anything at all) and doing some breakfast spot research seemed like a perfect way to spend my Sunday morning ...er... midday by the time I finished laundry and got out of my apartment.

By this point, most of you are aware that I love diners. Really, give me a greasy spoon any day, but there's something unbelievably satisfying about a place that manages to prepare my favorite comfort breakfast food with a gourmet twist. That's what you'll find at Plouffe's Yankee Diner on Route 20 in Charlton, MA. Previously known as just "The Yankee Diner," the Plouffe brothers, Michael and Brian, have reopened the historic lunch car diner, bringing a new taste to your typical New England Diner.

Let's start from the outside and work our way in, shall we?

I promise not to bore you with too much architectural history, but Plouffe's is a true Worcester Lunch Car Company dining car.  That means it was built by the same people as The Boulevard, The Miss Worcester and dozens of other National Register of Historic Places holding diners across the US. It's preserved fairly well (I say fairly and not extraordinarily, because one of the past owners put a vinyl-sided, front lean-to entryway smack dab in the center of the facade.... the nerve!)  with most of the original decorate features still in tact.  The original porcelain refrigerator sits in the left corner of the main grill, matching the colors of the barrel roof and the antique wooded counter stools. (The refrigerator needs some pricey electrical restoration to bring it back to working order, so if we have any bleeding heart preservationists in the crowd, I'm personally starting a  Save the Fridge fund for this diner - so be in touch.) the windows are for the most part original with some great decorative iron and stained glass flourishes and almost all of the original interior wood work still adorns the walls.  You definitely feel like you are stepping back in time, but not in a Twilight Zone sort of way.  The team at Plouffe's have made a dedicated effort to try to keep any maintenance as historically accurate as possible without tipping the scales to cheesy which happens more often than not, so for that I commend them.  They've also done some stellar landscape work out front that makes the entrance inviting and homey (a valiant effort to combat the vinyl...).


Plouffe's packs in a crowd for weekend breakfast (and weekday as well, I've been told), so plan to eat at the counter or wait for a few minutes for a booth because the seating is limited, but well worth it.  Their menu includes all of the traditional diner fare, eggs any way you like them, homefries, bacon, sausage, HOMEMADE HASH. Yes, I said it, homemade deliciousness... honestly, I wanted to order an extra side of hash to take home for later.  Their pancakes are HUGE and in addition to your typical buttermilk and blueberry, they've got great specials like Pecan with brown sugar sauce.  New to their menu is Brian's Brunch Burger, a 1/3 pound all beef patty, bacon, and American cheese that is served on a "French toasted" bulkie roll topped with a perfect mix of ketchup & Vermont maple syrup. It's a huge hit with the regulars.


For lunch, they've got burgers, Rubens, the Yankee club, pastrami, and Philly Cheese-steak all with hand-cut french fries and a pickle.  Be sure to try the clam chowder and the award winning chili, too! (Jackson ordered the soups as a side for breakfast!) Everything is totally fresh and when available Plouffe's always buys their products and produce locally.  They serve Polar sodas, Good as Gold coffee, and their pickles are from Regal in Worcester! The diner's chef and co-owner, Michael Plouffe, always adds a few specials to the menu to give it some flare.  This week their website advertises Swedish Meatballs with egg noodles.

What makes Plouffe's stand out from the plethora of other Worcester diners, is their Friday night dinners.  Each Friday, Chef Michael opens his doors from 4:30-8:30PM to serve some local favorites and some top quality, but low-cost meals.  Jackson and I made a repeat visit last Friday to try it out.  We brought his sister along and the three of us made a point to order 3 different entrees to share around.  Jackson ordered the Prime Rib dinner (he had the last piece - it was late in the night) and it was heavenly.  Emily ordered traditional Fish and Chips - beer-battered fried haddock with hand-cut fries and homemade coleslaw. I had the baked haddock, it was delicious.  They offered a side of seasonal veggies, mashed potatoes with gravy or fries. No one went home disappointed or sadly with any room for dessert, but have no fear they always have a few dessert options for those still tempted.

The atmosphere at Plouffe's is casual family dinning.  You'll almost definitely meet both owners if you stop in.  Michael is behind the grill and Brian, the business partner, will be at the register or if needed helping serve.  They are completely open to special orders and substitutions, in fact, at dinner on Friday Michael prepared one little girl an order of french toast, even though breakfast wasn't actually still available, but she had her heart set on it.  Another endearing moment witnessed Michael chasing down the server with the fruit garnish that he adorns every plate with.  Michael sheepishly apologized to the patrons while assuring everyone that he felt personally responsible for the presentation on each and every plate. It's personal touches like this that will keep me coming back.

The guys were nice enough to send some photos for the blog! Thanks guys!

So what have we learned from this post?
1. I should never blog when hungry.
2. Check out Plouffe's Yankee Diner!

Until next time....
<3 K

Thursday Night Lights!

And she's back in the game!  Funny story, it turns out that you have to actually be in Worcester to blog about Worcester.  Strange, huh?  I've bounced back and forth from Boston, to Newport, to DC, to San Francisco, to Plymouth, and Cape Cod this summer - oh wedding season.  But, with the start of the school year things seem to be calming down a bit and my blog should be picking back up!  I've got some big plans for my September posts...

Last night, I was part of history, or so I was told quite frequently by the Holy Cross community.  I attended the first ever night game, under the lights, at Fitton Field.  The Holy Cross Crusaders took on the UMass Minutemen in their season opening home game.  And in all honestly, this was my first ever college football game.

I love football, but unfortunately, when I was applying for college, I didn't consider that it might be cool (let's be honest, it would have been pretty damn sweet) to go to a Division 1 school.  I was worried about academic programs, scholarships, etc, and that landed me at Salve, studying preservation, living in a mansion by the sea, so I really can't complain.  However, what I didn't realize is that our football team, the mighty Seahawks, played on a Newport high school field.  Yeah, we were that good.  The few games I went to were sad to watch.  The poor Seahawks.  It's really too depressing to recap.

My husband, who I was dating at the time, went to UMass - Go Minutemen! - and we went to one football game while I visited.  However, we missed the beginning of the game, showed up for halftime, along with most of the crowd, because we were actually there for the awarding winning marching band.  Oh the irony... the crowd skipping the game and coming to watch the band... teen drama screenwriters everywhere are convulsing at the thought.  Needless to say, I'm not counting that as true college football either.

I went to GWU for grad school, thinking to myself, "Hey! This is a pretty large school, with an athletics budget that rivals Salve's endowment, there must be a great football team."  Well, I was horribly mistaken.  The Colonials don't have a football team.  There really isn't much space for a football stadium in Foggy Bottom, but it's the principle of the thing.  Alas, four more years of higher ed -Jackson took his time finishing his masters (teasing... he worked full time)- and no college football to speak of.

At that point, I wasn't too upset about my lack of a college football experience, until I met someone who went to a SEC school and told me about their game day traditions. I heard tales of tailgating, epic post-game parties, and even dress codes that put gals in dresses and guys in shirt and tie.  How cool is that?! Sunday best for Saturday football... be still my heart!  Admittedly, this inspired some buyer's remorse when it came to my educational choices, but as with all things, I moved on.

Now I find myself back in Worcester and the buzz this week had been the Holy Cross vs. UMass game.  I decided I'd see what a well-funded football program looked like.  I gathered Jackson and his fellow UMass classmate, Chris and a colleague of mine and we made our way to Fitton Field.  (Historical note:  Fitton Field is named for Father Fitton, the Catholic priest who, in the early 1800s, was responsible for pastoring the entire northeast -well from Maine to Rhode Island.- and converting large settlements to Catholicism.  He also purchased the land that Holy Cross sits on, hence the namesake...I know this because a costumed interpreter at Old Sturbridge Village told me so.)

I'm not sure how many of you know this, but like the great city of Rome, Worcester, MA also has 7 hills. I'm not quite sure I can name them all, and depending on where you grew up, they often go by different names, but Fitton Field sits at the base of College Hill, which is also called Pakachoag Hill or Mount Saint James.  Anyway, College Hill was PACKED last night.  There were about 16,000 people, which for a small school like Holy Cross, is quite a turn out. Parking was kind of a nightmare and I would bet that half of Worcester's police force was directing traffic.  The stadium was swimming with Holy Cross's purple, with a trim of UMass maroon. It was all very exciting! I had previously decided to root for the offense.  I have loyalties to both teams, so cheering for good plays made by the offense seemed fair.  Besides, in football, I don't like to root against anyone - I'm a fan of close games and ties.  Unless we are talking about the Manning brothers.  I pray for their failure.  Peyton Manning makes me seethe with anger and I used to be a fan of Eli - I tried to inspire sibling rivalry to throw Peyton off his game - but then the 2008 Super Bowl happened and Eli joined my list. So, yeah... like I was saying, I was getting into that college game day spirit, and then the game started...

Despite what Gordie Lockbaum (a HC football great) announced over the local radio station, this was not a well-played game of two athletically strong teams.  It was kind of boring as football goes.  There were rookie mistakes that most high school football teams can avoid and both teams had a lot of trouble moving the ball.  UMass dominated for the majority of the game, which appeased my husband and Chris, but even they were disappointed with the overall caliber of event.

I do have to give credit to the prep work done by the HC and Worcester community. The field looked great, the tailgating layout seemed well designed, the concession stands were well stocked and the line kept moving, the energy was high.  Despite the larger crowd and the overwhelming parking situation, traffic flowed fairly smoothly. On the flip side, I think Holy Cross is breaking some ADA laws with their handicap accessibility and seating, just saying. Oh and a special shout out to the highly intoxicated woman sitting on the visitor's side, who cussed out my husband for standing in the handicapped area to keep his friend company (he was standing because there were no companion chairs provided), I hope for your sake there is no such thing as karma. 

Overall, I had a good time.  I think I'll try to catch another game this season and see if the team improves over the course of the semester.  I really do enjoy football, so it's hard to truly disappoint me.

I can't enthusiastically recommend the game or say it tips the scales in Worcester's favor, but I it wasn't a wasted evening.

Until next week!
<3K

Have you ever wondered what it's like to be Spiderman?

I have. Honestly.  I really have.  After a decent amount of thought considering the addition of several "spidey" senses to my abilities, I've come to the following conclusions.
1. There is little to no chance that I would ever wear anything resembling that spandex suit. Good for you, Tobey Maguire, you are a better person than I am.
2. Being a masked vigilante isn't really my thing.  So, my great powers would have to come without responsibility, or really, I'd have to say no thanks.  I'm kind of wimpy. I know this. Besides (and this is an extreme tangent) based on a theory presented by M. Night Shyamalan, there is duality in the universe, so therefore if I became a superhero, I'd be sparking the creation of a super villain. [See Unbreakable, don't listen to the critics, it was a cinematic masterpiece.] Using this logic, I should stay completely under the radar and just use my powers to my own benefit and just be super awesome, rather than a super hero.... and super selfish, but I'll ponder that another day.
3. I really don't like spiders, especially being bitten by them, but I've decided the the pros of having spiderman's abilities out weigh the terror of letting a furry little spider bite me.  Plus, Peter Parker didn't even notice that he'd been bitten, so I'd assume that I could just close my eyes and let one of those other 14 gene-splicing spiders bite me and hope nothing goes wrong. (Click that link for a truly awesome article from Cracked.com)
4. Without the fear of falling, I would pretty much climb every mountain, building, monument, spire, you name it.  Heights are awesome when you don't have to worry about falling to your doom (see previous post). And it's this point that leads us to my latest adventure.


The Central Rock Gym

In preparation for the Warrior Dash, Jackson and I decide to build up some arm strength by trying our hand at rock climbing. We had heard good things about the indoor climbing at the Central Rock Gym, did some research, and planned to meet a friend there early on a Sunday afternoon.  The day was a little pricey, but not prohibitive.  There is a $15 fee to use the gym for the day, a $10 equipment rental fee that includes shoes, harness, chalk, and carabiner.  First time climbers have to take a belaying class for $15.  So for two of us, that was $80, but you can stay as long as you want and climb as much as you want.

We laced up our climbing shoes, strapped on our harnesses, and we were ready to go.  I'd like to think I looked uber cool and outdoorsy in my cargo shorts and climbing harness, but I'm pretty sure I gave a whole new definition to the word geeky.  I couldn't get my harness to sit right and spent a lot of the afternoon pulling at it and adjusting it to try to get comfortable. Jackson, Matt and Tim seemed to be immune to this problem.  Perhaps it is a gender thing, or just a Kate thing.  Who knows.

First stop, belaying class.  This class takes place on the mezzanine level of the gym, which means you are practicing at half the height of the main floor. Now, being the safety conscious person that I am, who is also a paranoid, overachiever, I was a model student.  If I thought it were appropriate, I probably would have taken notes.  We began by attaching the ropes to our harnesses and practicing our double figure 8 knots.  I must say that I mimicked this knot with ease and had it tightly secured quite quickly.  Here's why.  I still have this height issue... as in fear, and if that knot was going to do anything to spare my life and limbs, I was going to be the best damned knot-tie-er they've ever seen. Our group had to practice a few times and once we had all mastered the knot, we were going to attempt to belay.  The instructor asked me to climb first with Jackson belaying me (yes, he snickered at the term and made an inappropriate 13 year-old boy joke that no one else heard).  The instructor showed us how to attach the other end of my rope (so one end was tied to my harness with my awesome double figure 8 knot - that rope was fed through a pulley at the top of the wall and the other end came back down to the floor and was now in Jackson's hand) to his belay device attached to his carabiner attached to his harness - are you following?  There was a certain way to feed it through the belay device to secure the rope. He was also reminded to lock the carabiner to make sure the belay device was fastened correctly - I checked this twice. We were ready to go and I was given the green light to start climbing. At this point, there were the two of us and another couple in our belaying class. I approached the wall and slowly began to climb.  Reminder: I really don't like heights.  I gingerly made it about half way up this wall, again, the shortest wall they have. Upon surveying my surroundings, I decided I had gone far enough. I was probably only 15 feet off the ground.  I looked behind me and saw the instructor, Jackson and the other couple look at me expectantly, expecting me to keep climbing.  I told them otherwise.

The instructor took my ridiculous fear in stride and told me to grab the rope with two hands and to propel back off the wall, sitting back in my harness.  He assured me that Jackson's device would allow him to safely lower me to the ground. Here's the thing... I trust my husband with my life. I pretty much promised that when I married him, but in reality, when I'm hanging in the air by a rope and he's pretty much in control of my fate, I was a tad nervous about the whole situation and till death do us part seemed entirely probable. I kid, but I was nervous.  It didn't help matters that images of Vertical Limit were swirling through my mind.  So as I'm hanging off this wall, above our little class, I'm picturing Chris O'Donnell hanging from a cliff trying to decide whether or not to cut the climbing rope that holds his entire family and let his father fall to his death or risk all three of their lives testing the strength of the rope.  I scare myself sometimes, but yes, this is what I was thinking about.

Turns out that the instructor was right and the whole system did lower me safely and comfortably to the ground. Who knew? After that, it was my turn to belay Jackson.  He quickly scaled the wall - his height was in his favor on that one, but even he looked a little nervous putting his life in my hands as I lowered him down to the floor. I guess we both have some trust issues.  The other couple got to practice as well and soon we were released to go forth and climb.  We made our way downstairs to the "big" walls and looked for some easier paths for me to start out with. I slowly built up some confidence, I think lacking an audience made it a little easier.

We had company soon after.  Jackson's good friend, Matt and his younger brother, Tim, joined us and because Tim was too young to belay, we all took turns climbing.  I was still a bit nervous for the first half of our outing, but all it took was a fall to calm my fears.  On one particular trail, I was reaching above me and stretched a little too far and lost my footing, instead of careening to my death, as I had feared, I was just hanging there -like on a tire swing- waiting for Jackson to lower me to the floor.  With my fears conquered, I couldn't climb enough and I became more adventurous in my choices/grips/leaps.  Hence my earlier spiderman reference.  I do have a few suggestions for anyone interested in trying out the rock wall.  It's best to cut your nails before climbing, otherwise the wall will cut them for you, and by cut, I mean break, every manicured finger nail. Take your time, your arms will tire quickly. Get a chalk bag, your hands are not used to gripping in such a manner. And, most importantly, do not allow the rock wall to make you believe you have conquered your fear of heights.  As many of you will have read in the last post, without that lovely harness and belay device, you're going to realize how high up you are and how far you have to fall.

I'll definitely be headed back to the Central Rock Gym.  Two very enthusiastic thumbs up in Worcester's favor.

Until next time....
<3 K