Skydeck Ledge

Up on the 103rd story of the Willis Tower (formerly Sears Tower) in Chicago, there is an attraction called the Skydeck Ledge. Instead of merely taking in the vista through large windowpanes, a visitors can walk out into a glass cubicle and be surrounded by the view in all directions--including straight down. 

There is an admission fee to ride the elevator up to the observation floor, and once there, we were free to roam, go in and out of the boxes freely, and take as many photographs as we wished! I liked this format much better than waiting in line for a single opportunity to stand in The Ledge. 

Here is a glimpse of the glass box from the side--a photo of my cousin Rachel taken from inside the other box. 

My mother displayed a sampling of our Chicago pictures at Curves (because we attended Curves Convention there after this girls' trip), and so many women have remarked to me that they would never walk onto that glass. You couldn't pay them enough to do it, and other such dramatic refusals. 

Looking down (my aunt's shoes here) did offer a bit of a thrill. My stomach did a few little excited flips, and even looking at the pictures makes my feet tingle (does this happen to anyone else?)  But I wouldn't say it was terrifying, or even scary. There is a difference between a fear of heights and a fear of falling, in case you don't know. It does not bother me to be high above ground, but I am terrified of falling. Amusement park rides involving sudden or steep drops, bungee jumping, skydiving, these activities which involve or mimic freefalling are of absolutely no interest to me, even if they are only a few stories above ground. 

Shortly before we left for Chicago, my parents happened to catch a "How it's Made" program on TV describing the engineering behind the Skydeck. I'm sure that was fascinating, and possibly helped my mom take the plunge and walk out into the sky. 

This is my absolute favorite picture from this part of our trip. My mom was obviously nervous about stepping out there--I think she had planned to be the contented photographer from inside on solid ground.  But her expression here perfectly captures the childlike joy resulting from such a venture out of the Comfort Zone.  She might be gripping my wrist, but her laugh is so genuine. This picture is precious to me because of that. 

We had a lot of fun experimenting with different ways to photograph the scene to maximize the effect of the context.  It was fairly crowded up there, and I thought it was neat how polite everybody was about taking turns in the box and offering to photograph one another. 

We arrived at dusk, and stayed up there goofing around and taking pictures until after the sun had set. It was a perfect time to go, since we got photos of daylight as well as the beautiful city lights. Both of these pictures are a view to the northeast toward the John Hancock Tower (the black on with angled sides near the back) and Lake Michigan. 

Allow me a moment of self-indulgence to include this picture, just because it's pretty and I look good.  

Rachel and me posing enthusiastically with an external image of the Willis Tower. The Ledge was one of the most interesting and exciting parts of our trip; I'm really glad that we did it. 

A measly 200 friends

I got started on Facebook much later than most people I know. Of course I still occasionally run into someone who continues to resist; my husband is one of those.  From the beginning, I mainly interacted with my Facebook profile when it interacted with me: if someone "friended" me, I responded; when someone wrote on my "wall" or sent me a message, I viewed it. I made only a few efforts to find people from my past, and quickly grew weary of the superficial "OMG how are you?" posts that rarely progressed beyond those few words. So even though I was "on" Facebook, I just didn't spend very much time on Facebook. 

For reasons I can't quite identify or recall, I've clicked over to Facebook more often recently, and as much as I would have preferred to remain oblivious, discovered that I am deficient in friends. I've always found the implicit pursuit to collect the most "friends" on a social network to be a ludicrous paradox, so I never meant to get involved. But I accidentally noticed on a few of my (real) friends' profiles that they have over 300, 400, even over 500 Facebook friends.  That day I had 183. 

Pretend that you don't care how many friends you have if you want to, but there is no denying that personal connections make us feel liked. Also, it's easy to pretend you don't care if you are one of the ones with many hundreds of friends. Now, we all know that Facebook friends do not equal real friends. They aren't all people you'd invite to your birthday party, even if they all lived nearby. I started out very selective about my Facebook friends, but lightened up about it as time went on.  The truth is, I don't have copious opportunities to make acquaintances like some of my church-going/world-traveling/bar-hopping associates.  So many of the people I know are my business clients, and it makes me nervous to think about them viewing photos of my private life or clicking on the link to my blog. But I got a little fire under my butt for some reason to boost my friend numbers (my ego), and have been actually clicking some of the "people you might know" suggestions. I still have a hard time sending a friend request to someone I was never close to in the first place, it makes me uncomfortable. 

My half-hearted endeavor has grown the list to 190 friends so far. Two hundred is within reach! 

I am pathetic. 

My desk

I am a neat-freak. Dirt and germs do not really bother me, but clutter and disorder cause me a great deal of stress. I love lists, charts, filing systems and containers. I literally run my life out of a day planner ("Blog" is now on my daily task list for November--which is why it gets done). I like my stapler to be parallel to my tape dispenser.  In other words, I like my environment and my mind to be organized and free from chaos.  

That is why, even though I have been buried under my workload this week, I have spent several hours in the last two days scrubbing bathrooms and putting away the nomadic clutter that tends to collect on various surfaces around the house. The effect on my psyche was almost instantaneous, but I knew one more project would have me working more contentedly and efficiently than anything else: organizing my desk. 

Being the anal-retentive type that I am, my desk was not really in an unmanageable state of disorder. But there were some piles that needed a fresh going-through and I decided it was high time I dusted under all my shelves and knick-knacks. Plus I separated ball-point pens from markers in my two pencil cups. You know, the usual stuff I'm sure everyone does to organize their desk...?

Here is the result. I feel lighter just looking at it. That sensation is diminished by looking at the six-inch stack of paperwork removed from the desk which constitutes a significant portion of my "to-do" list. But still. 

I spend a substantial amount of time here. What personalizes my workspace? Here are some items of sentimental value you'll find on my desk, from right to left:

• Pocket-sized book containing The Declaration of Independence and the Constitution of the United States of America
• Commemorative 50th anniversary milk jar from the BYU Creamery, two-thirds full of loose change
• Bouquet of silk flowers found in my car after work one day along with an assortment of random plastic gifts and a card from Gary and Madelyn saying "Enjoy your prizes for winning the 'Best Mommy Ever' award" (this card is also hanging on my wall, and is one of the two there which feature a fart joke punchline)
• The Seven Decisions from The Traveler's Gift by Andy Andrews 
• Six ribbons I have earned for placing in my age group at various races, including the famous first place debacle at my first half marathon
• Framed photo from Madelyn's first birthday
• Figurine of two wolf pups I thought resembled our huskies enough to give Gary as a gift once upon a time--clearly I liked it more than him
• Turtle carved out of stone brought home from one of my parents' many exotic trips
• Sparkly bean bag frog souvenir from trip to Moab, UT in 2003; I gave similar ones to all my Curves employees at the time
• Matryoshka nesting dolls with illegitimate Simpsons artwork, sent by Bridget from Russia (also featured here)

Flashback Friday: Home birth letter

As Gary and I prepared for the arrival of our daughter in the latter part of 2006, our decision to plan a home birth was met with some resistance.  I wrote the following letter to ask my family members for support and understanding. More than anything, I am sure the process was valuable for me to organize and fortify my beliefs about our decision. I know it is kind of long, but you birth-story junkies out there may find it interesting.

Dear Family,

As I’m sure you recall preparing joyfully for the arrival of each of your children, this is a very important and exciting time in our lives.  You have probably heard by now that Gary and I have chosen to plan to give birth in our home.  In our culture today, the home birth option is not widely esteemed or even understood.  We believe that our labor experience and the outcome of our baby’s birth depend on being surrounded by a positive support structure.  That is why I am writing a letter to our loved ones.  I want to shed some light on the reasons we have chosen to plan for a home birth, share some information regarding the safety and normality of an attended birth at home, and ask for your help in creating the positive environment that we feel is important to our birth process.

First I want to emphasize that there is nothing wrong with giving birth in the hospital, and we do not have any disrespect for or animosity toward families who feel more comfortable with that option.  We hope that we would receive the same respect for our choice, which is a very personal one.

I hope to clarify when people inquire, “You’re going to give birth at home?” that the answer is “Maybe.”  Deciding to plan to birth at home is just that, a plan, or a desire to give birth at home.  But the goal is not a home birth at any cost.  Midwives are thoroughly trained and experienced in monitoring for indications that a transfer to the hospital would be best for mother and/or baby, usually long before an emergency would occur.  Planning for home birth includes being open to all possibilities, including one in which the baby is born in the hospital, even by cesarean birth if necessary.  The ultimate goal is a healthy mom and newborn, and if the benefits we associate with a home birth can be enjoyed in reaching that goal, then that is the plan.

The Philosophical Assumptions of Home Birth Parents and Attendants

• Because pregnancy and birth are natural physiological events, normal birth does not belong in hospitals (and wasn’t placed there until the last century, and still isn’t in many cultures).
• The natural course of labor is already perfect, and should be interfered with as little as possible.
• Pain is part of an essential and healthy feedback mechanism in labor, which women can learn to cope with, with proper encouragement and support.
• Medical management of pregnancy and birth should be limited to those which are medically complicated.
• Unnecessary medical interventions complicate normal labor, creating additional risk and the need for more intervention.

Adapted from Birthing from Within by England/Horowitz

In addition to these underlying assumptions about birth, here are a few of the advantages we feel are gained by laboring and giving birth at home:

• A quiet, peaceful environment which we can control to a certain extent
• A sense of comfort in our familiar surroundings means being “at home” psychologically, to  encourage relaxation and release
• The innate, miraculous process of giving birth is allowed to unfold on its own
• There is no schedule or rush to force labor to progress
• Constant availability of our personal birth attendant, no shift changes or sharing of nurses
• No pressure to accept unwanted pain medication or drugs (which might be easy to give in to in the middle of labor!)
• If a problem should arise that requires medical support, we will not wonder if it was caused by routine, unnecessary, or ill-timed hospital interventions
• The midwives philosophy is not centered around such interventions, so if she advocates them, it will be easy to trust her endorsement
• Ready availability of family and friends during labor and birth, if desired
• Access to our hot tub, our own food, a walk around the neighborhood for fresh air, and other comforts available at home
• The freedom to labor and birth in the locations and positions that I choose, and confidence to do whatever my body tells me is necessary at the time
• Studies indicate a tendency toward shorter labor at home
• The joy and empowerment of bringing our baby into the world naturally, and in her own home
• Immediate, close contact with our newborn baby girl

Home birth is not the option for every family, and we completely understand that.  In addition to the important aspect of personal preference, it is also essential that a couple seeking a home birth meet certain general criteria in order to be considered.  It is a long list, but examples include having good physical and mental health, adequate social supports and a positive emotional environment, a pregnancy with no complications, and the baby positioned properly for vaginal birth.  Couples choosing this option also must be willing to take an active role in giving birth, cope with the pain and hard work of labor without drugs, and take responsibility for the outcome of their choices.

In many cases, midwives may be trained more thoroughly in “normal” birth than obstetricians, whose education focuses considerably on managing complications and emergencies.  We feel comfortable with the benefit of having access to the best of both worlds: safe home birth with modern midwives trained to identify and manage minor problems, and the availability of appropriate hospital technology if necessary.  As mentioned before, our ultimate goal, as well as that of our birth attendants, is a safe birth, not a home birth no matter what. 

It may come as a relief to learn that transfers to a hospital rarely involve a labor emergency.  Most of the time problems in labor develop slowly, with early signals alerting the midwives of their approach.  Usually transfers to the hospital are made for non-emergency reasons, such as a prolonged, exhausting labor, or failure to progress in dilation.  Another little-known fact is that home birth attendants are skilled in handling most common birth “crises,” and carry much of the same equipment to handle them at home as what is available in the hospital.  For example, the midwives carry sterile instruments for birth and suturing any tears, basic resuscitation equipment for mother and baby, ultrasound stethoscope for fetal monitoring, drugs for postpartum maternal hemorrhage or bleeding, IV equipment, oxygen, antibiotics to treat infection, and more.  Midwives are not only trained in medical procedures, but also in ways to comfort and assist the laboring mother, such as natural pain coping techniques, methods to encourage progression of labor naturally, and in practices to help avoid tearing.

Many studies have been conducted to compare the safety of birth at home vs. in the hospital for comparable low-risk pregnancies.  One recent study involving over 5400 planned home births, published in the British Medical Journal in 2005, concludes the following: “Planned home birth for low risk women in North America using certified professional midwives was associated with lower rates of medical intervention but similar intrapartum and neonatal mortality to that of low risk hospital births in the United States.”  One of our midwives has been attending births at home and in the hospital for over 30 years and has never lost a baby or mother at home. 

In summary, our birth attendants are trained to recognize any warning signs of problems early on, and then take appropriate action to deal with those problems.  If an emergency does arise, they have the knowledge and skills to institute basic emergency care to either resolve the problem, or stabilize the mother and/or baby until we reach the hospital.

As very important people in our life, I am asking for you to help our family in three specific ways:

1. Please try to understand a little bit about home birth and open your mind to it as a normal, viable birth choice.  Showing an interest lets us know that you care.  If you have questions or concerns, let’s discuss them together!
2. Please recognize that planning to give birth at home should not imply that we don’t understand and appreciate reasons to choose to give birth in a different setting.  We do not feel that a home birth is better or worse than a hospital birth.  It depends on so many individual factors, and in the end is a very personal choice.  Our baby may be born in a hospital as well, and we find nothing wrong with that. 
3. Please try to maintain a positive attitude toward our decision, both when we are and are not around.  If you are involved in or overhear conversations we are having about the impending birth of our baby and the circumstances surrounding it, you can show support by getting involved in the conversation in a positive way.  Even subtle negativity or apathy may not only hurt my feelings, but also may have an effect on my mental state in preparing for labor and birth.  Also, I hope that your support will be genuine, because insincerity can be just as hurtful. 

These requests may seem silly, but I feel that having the support of our loved ones throughout the upcoming weeks is essential.  For many of our own personal reasons, we are electing to plan to give birth at home.  Whether you would choose this path for yourself or not, we hope that you will be able to support us in our choice, as we believe we will always do for you.  We believe that it will take concentration and positive mental energy to accomplish this miracle of childbirth in the empowering manner we are planning.  It is important to me that I am surrounded by the same attitudes as I approach this life-changing event.  I believe that it could be detrimental to our birth experience and outcome if I am self-conscious about our decision, feel unsupported, or harbor fear that if things do not turn out as we hope that I will have to face “I told you so” from those to whom I would wish to go for support and sympathy.  I hope you will understand that I am requesting your help because you are among the most important people in our lives, and soon in Madelyn’s life.  A foundation of understanding, love and encouragement is what we need most right now.

Thank you for taking the time to read my thoughts.

All our love,

Miniature rooms

One of the highlights of my recent trip to Chicago was our morning spent at the Art Institute.  We could not have timed the activity more perfectly, either, because the rain poured outside while we admired original masterpieces by O'Keefe, Van Gogh, Monet, and Renoir, ancient sculptures and royal artifacts. It was the kind of rain that soaked your pants even while you stood under an umbrella, and the only rain we saw all week. 

The exhibit that intrigued me most was the Thorne Miniature Room Gallery, undoubtedly because I had never seen anything like it before. Plus I have always held a juvenile fascination with all things miniature. I love any big thing scaled down to a tiny replica when the details and embellishments remain intact, whether it be a pair of tiny infant Nike's or a geographical model of Mount St. Helens complete with little cars and buildings and people walking their dogs. 

From a placard in the museum: "The Thorne Miniature Room Gallery contains 68 rooms that depict the historical development of interior design in Europe and the United States from the late 13th century until the 1930's. All of the rooms were researched and designed by Mrs. James Ward Thorne and and built under her supervision."

Apparently the first rooms were conceived in order to showcase her collection of miniature furnishings and decorative art pieces. Then, it would seem, her hobby grew into a full-time operation where she employed assistants to research precise details such as from which wood species a particular table would have been carved, and to recreate specific needlework florals at 1:12 scale.  I have never been interested in the history of interior design, and viewing this gallery did not instill any such interest for me personally, I have to admit. But I don't think that detracts from my appreciation of the intricate study and artistic creation that so thoroughly captured my attention. 

The rooms were challenging to photograph through the glass, but I had fun trying to create images that would trick the mind into believing the architecture was full-size. This is the best I was able to do. Doesn't it seem like the photo was just taken from a high corner of a large foyer? Or would it have seemed that way if I hadn't already explained the entire concept to you? 

Here is the same room from a few steps back. 

Another close-up, with too much glass reflection. 

And the far-away perspective of the same room. 

Here you can see how the dioramas are arranged around several corridors like this, where you can view them chronologically. Also, "What's a diorama?" 

My love's birthday

Gary turns 33 years old today. I've planned a whole day of birthday fun, but it's a surprise, so I can't let you in on it yet. Two years ago I shared 31 Random Things I Like About My Husband. I read those over this morning and it made me feel very happy to be reminded of what a wonderful man I married.

Several months ago I found myself seeking this kind of reminder, and I turned to our engagement photography session. The pictures evoked the familiar, yet oft neglected emotions of joyous love.  For your birthday, Sweetheart, I hope you enjoy these pictures and the memories you find accompanying them.

I love you, Gary. Happy birthday. 

Warrior Dash

Running is good exercise, and I enjoy the challenge of working toward goals for distance and pace. But running does not come easily to my body, and I can't honestly say that I just love running for the pure thrill of it. What I have discovered that I do love enthusiastically is the Adventure Race.  I happened upon the concept last summer when I ran the Tillamook Burn with my friend Sarah. It was love at first knee-deep river crossing.  I vowed to register for as many X-Dog Events (the organizer) as I could manage the following summer. Unfortunately, the timing didn't work out for any of the other events this year except the Tillamook Burn, so I only got to reprise that one awesome course (and the pre-race festivities and camp out the night before!). 

I was disappointed not to have done more of these adventure runs in the summer, so when I saw an ad for the Warrior Dash, I clicked over to their website and could hardly believe my eyes.  I was stoked about this race because it was heavy with obstacles, which is my favorite part of any non-street race.  This event was in September, and I wasn't blogging back then, but it isn't really distant enough history to be considered a "flashback." It's just a late submission. 

My very good friend Barb came all the way out to the Warrior Dash wilderness to cheer me on and take some pictures. I thought the gesture was especially generous when she still decided to come even after I informed her that it cost $10 to park (Seriously, ten bucks! And that is in addition to paying over $50 for the race itself. Sheesh.)

I had a bit of an adventure just getting to the place. First of all, my brain messed up directionally, and I took a wrong turn which forced me to double-back on the freeway, wasting precious time. Then, as I entered North Plains, I remembered about the parking fee, and realized that I did not have any cash. So I pulled into McDonald's, but they did not have an ATM (how is that possible?).  I drove across the street to a gas station. Their ATM was out of service. You've got to be kidding me. I was already short on time.  One more gas station over and I found the cash machine.  To top it off, the traffic entering the event was very thick (and could only have gotten worse as the day went on, as this event was organized into waves of runners starting every 30 minutes). So I arrived later than I wanted to, had to rush across the field of cars, get my race bib and timing chip, and check my backpack. I jogged over to the starting line just as my wave was beginning. I was the last one to start, in fact. 

I happen to love this pre-race photo because not only do I look all clean and happy before starting, but there is also a mega-line of Honey Buckets behind me. It's a perfect scene. 

Being the last to start was a huge bummer, because the trails were very narrow at the beginning, so we were forced to walk.  Very quickly I decided not to accept the congestion as a blockade, but to treat it as the first obstacle.  I proceeded to excuse myself as I weaved around the mostly stationary lines of people in running shorts and costumes.  This wasn't a checkout line, fairness did not have to be observed. 

Sorry the picture is so tiny, I pilfered it from the event photographer's website. 

The "Deadweight Drifter" was one of my favorite obstacles. As you can see, it was very crowded when I reached it, but I took the outside track and was able to make some headway. Floating in the waist- to chest-deep water was a series of large logs over which we had to clamber. My approach was a dive/slither over the top, which proved much faster than the leg-over style I saw others attempting. 

Another obstacle called "Blackout" doesn't look like much from the outside (I am exiting it above) but it was a long, pitch-black tunnel requiring hands-and-knees tactics.  At least the tunnel felt very long--once again, packed in there nose-to-ass with at least a dozen other people made for slow going. But it was inside the tunnel where I felt a sense of camaraderie with the other racers. Not only because my face touched a strangers butt more than once (it was impossible to see, remember), but because people cracked (no pun intended) jokes about the situation and we all laughed together.  

Most of the obstacles back in the woods had no photographer to capture their essence. Some of the more interesting ones include the "Junkyard Jump" in which we scramble over rusted car wreckage (it appeared that they had removed all shards of glass and sharp, twisted metal), two different cargo rope climbs--one at a vertical angle and one horizontal, and "Knee-high Hell," a web of tires on the ground that I mostly walked through because it was just before the end. Also, the muddy hills themselves were so steep that they were among the toughest obstacles.  

The "Warrior Roast" fire hurdles are possibly the most famous part of the dash, or possibly the final mud crawl. 

The mud was so thick, it definitely impeded forward momentum near the finish line.  

I just had to include this picture of my friend Bridget trying to daintily navigate under the barbed wire for the least amount of mud coverage she could manage, while her husband in front of her dove completely under. So great!

Here is my little posse of friends after everyone finished: Blair, Bridget, Jeremy, and my (Blair's wife also came and took pictures, hooray!)

All done, and all muddy. The course was about 3.3 miles. I can normally race that distance on the road in under 30 minutes. Because I was forced to walk part of the first mile, could not physically manage more than a walk on some of the lung-busting climbs, had to slow for execution of about a dozen obstacles, and genuinely did feel exhausted for the last half mile or so, I estimated that I was probably on the course for over 45 minutes. So imagine my surprise when Barb told me that the next wave (which my friends were running) had only started a few minutes before I crossed the finish line. I could not really fathom this to be accurate. 

But it was true. My official time was 32:17.45, or an average of 9:52 per mile. That isn't really very fast, but considering all the stops and walking, I was quite surprised. This pace earned me a spot in the top 100 females in my age group that day: 97th out of 602.  It's a respectable place, for me. 

There was a pond of brown water down the hill where we were allowed to "bathe" off the mud. It was kind of a social experience as well, with everyone laughing and splashing and swimming, grateful that the hard part was finished, but not yet ready to say it was over. 

Some cute guys parked next to me asked if I wanted my picture taken, which I thought was really nice of them! Of course I made a joke that I'd assumed they wanted to take one on their camera, har har. I think I resemble a frog in this picture, however. 

Warrior Dash was an incredibly fun experience, and I am especially glad that I got to share it with some cool friends.