There is this thing about water, especially when its frozen!

I have been here in Lake Placid for our annual holiday week trip knowing that this will most likely be the last time I am sharing this week with my son Chris. Its been an interesting week. He is skating so well and working so hard.  I almost wish he was racing in SLC this week instead. There is always next year.

There is something so magical about frozen water. There was a post the other day on J.C.'s blog that had me wishing I was in Seoul, curious about speedskating in Korea, and feeling like I can relate as the afternoon speedskating session is split with public skating this week, despite being told otherwise from ORDA.

JC posted this great picture which had me wondering if this was a promotion for the 2018 winter games?

It does look quite like what I would expect in an Olympic Village for spectators to indulge in? I wonder if this track design would solve our training/public session dilemma? In anycase this morning was a beautiful morning to skate, despite being so sore. There was this magical feeling akin to a kid going to the lake for that first swim of the summer or that late winter tanning at "The Beach". For those wondering why I linked to A-basin its because that is what they call their parking lot, which seems to be so close to the sun you could reach out and grab it. I love skiing there, especially during pond skimming. 

Off to find that magic again maybe I'll spot the perfect icicle on my way to the oval. (BTW, nice shot of Chris Christie!)

Adventures with Pete: part ?

An excerpt:

Pete

When I was growing up my dad had these wild stories about his childhood adventures. He was quite the storyteller. There was this guy Pete that was a central figure in his tales. He grew up in this tiny coal town in northeastern Pennsylvania and Pete was his best friend. All in all though, my dad’s stories would not have been anything without Pete and quite frankly Pete took this place of grandeur in the history of my family, though I never met the guy. 

My dad is long gone, as are most of his siblings. I cannot recall his stories about Pete so I am not going to bother trying. Instead I will share with you my own adventures with Pete. The Pete of my childhood gave me great courage and confidence. He was a gentleman and a true supporter of my cause. Pete was one of those few true friends that I could count on one hand.

It all started on a playground while our mothers played softball down the street from his house on a warm evening in late-spring. I had broken my hand a few days before while riding my bike. The break was a compound fracture so my hand was both stitched up and extra tender under that cast. I was climbing on a jungle gym and there were these boys that were going to great lengths to tease me. Still flat-chested at the time, I was asked to prove I was a girl. As I climbed with a cast I was told I was faking my injury as no kid in their right mind would climb in that condition. Pete witnessed this and came to my immediate rescue. That was all she wrote. We were friends instantly.  This remains true to this very day.

I have decided to share my adventures with Pete. With the grandest of eloquence and in the spirit of my upbringing the stories told will be just as wild, mostly true, occasionally embellished, and at times stolen from my other life stories because Pete would have made that tale epically better. They are recollections of my life and times on this planet. I have always loved to tell stories. Pete has filled the shoes of that monumental and somewhat metaphorical figure that has taken a place in my literary history. He has encouraged me to tell my stories. He has promised to be the one person I could count on to read this book, family aside.

So , just what happened that day on the playground that solidified my allegiance to this guy named Pete?  I was the quintessential tom-boy, always hanging out with the boys climbing trees, skate-boarding down steep hills not to mention in traffic, playing football, building forts, playing with matches, creating impromptu bon fires, starting mud fights and arguing about taking a shower afterwards. I had a few good role models. My mom was a Phys-Ed teacher, my dad a science teacher and HS football coach. There was also a shortage of girls my age in the neighborhood that liked to get dirty. Huckleberry Finn was my hero and The Adventures of Tom Sawyer (Twain 1876) was my bible. I much would have been a boy-scout than a stupid old girl scout any day. It stated when I realized after climbing up the geodesic dome of a monkey bar contraption with a cast on that getting to the top was easy, getting down on the other hand was not so easy, actually, it was downright frightful.  There were at least four overly assured boys and two really mean girls giving me hell that night for being stuck on the damn monkey bars. I felt like that pigeon being pelted by stones in that public service film we used to have to endure every so often in school. You bully something defenseless long enough it will die was the moral of the short feature. In any case, there were all these kids destroying me and then there was Pete, a defendant in a protective shiny covering, le chevalier dans briller d'armure, my own personal Don Quixote (Cervantes 1605) defending me from the windmill that was the playground.  First he helped me down. I honestly think my predicament scared him a bit. Then he stood up to two of the boys giving me grief. Defending my honor as a girl. He treated the situation in a way akin to a brother sticking up for a sister. Whatever he said, however short and sweet was impressive enough to build a fortress without worry of future retaliation.

A few weeks later I invited him to the small lake by our house to swim. After hours of diving off the dock, splashing each other with cannonballs, rating jackknives, playing tag, racing each other to the raft, engaging in the ritual game of Marco Polo, and having near death experience chicken fights, we finally collapsed on our towels in the sand to start what would be a decade long, potentially cancer causing, wrinkle fest of a competition called who can achieve the darker tan. 

I have managed a bunch of pages in my long awaited writing endeavor. I am surprised at how easily it comes. I have been jotting notes, ideas, memories down on a mind map for over 3 months now. I am psyched that this is actually working well as a tool whenever I have the chance to spare a few minutes to write down a story into the template I have started. I was thinking about my book last weekend as I made my way home from Lake Placid, angrier than a bull pursuing a rodeo clown. Just as I was on the verge of tears from my emotional state a text comes in and its Pete. It was just a simple smiley-face. He had no clue what had transpired on the oval hours earlier. Matter of fact, I hadn't talked to him in at least 2 weeks. I am always amazed at his knack for knowing just where my head is at most of the time. Its almost un-canny. So you see, when I write that he may not have been in every story but he makes almost every story better, I do not lie. But that is not what I intended to write about now...

On Christmas night, Kenny and I hauled up to Pete's after a pleasantly long day at his brother's house. I really enjoyed Christmas this year. We arrived just as things were starting to quiet down but the important thing was that we arrived. Pete gave me the most amazing gift. It was a photo montage of our adventures in Maine, both in poster and calendar form. I was so touched. Yesterday, when I read his short storm adventures on Facebook I wished I was there at the studio, enjoying the hot tub rather than freezing my behind off in Lake Placid! Actually, I really wish he was here on a Lake Placid adventure with me, despite the freezing temps and his lack of skating capabilities. Somehow I think he would find it fascinating.

The time here in Lake Placid this week has been interesting. Its been really cold, and windy up until today, when the sun was so bright I couldn't see what I was filming this morning on the oval. I am surprised that I filmed anything. Its one of those weeks where I get so much reading done that you would think I was an avid reader all of the time. I have even managed the NY Times cover to cover before 10 AM each day. Its both hectic and relaxing. Chris is skating well, which is what is important,  after all its why we are here. He managed a good training session with Pat Kelly this morning and will be back for crazy eights tonight (his choice). Crazy eights is surprisingly one of Chris's favorite tough workouts that I wrote for him and Andrew two years ago.

It consists of the following:
8 lap warm up
2 x 8 laps easy, 8 laps moderate, 8 laps easy, 8 laps hard
8 lap cool down

I have spent the afternoon editing video from this morning and will have it posted soon.  Well off to secure some lock-tight and a few other essentials from the hardware store before hitting the ice again. More later!

Analyze this?

Last night I had one of those weird potter dreams again. This time I was haunted by two people I really look up to. We spent hours critiquing my work, which was not all that harsh, most of it dealt with my choice of surfaces. I wonder if this was due to the fact that I was somewhat dismayed at the fact that my whistle forms are being neglected in my current exhibition, matter of fact they are not beimg shown at all, which was not my choice. The worst was that I could not seem to find my voice to speak up about it either. I know its my work, but? I am guessing this was just a dream of torment? I must be trying to tell myself to speak up and self- advocate...I really need to say something before the reception. Why am I so chicken to do so?

I made it to Lake Placid yesterday without much consequence. I am so glad that I left as early as I did however. I see that Kelly got quite a bit of snow too. Funny, it hadn't even started there by 1 PM. Its really cold here despite not having the blast of snow that they had at home. My only regret it that I missed Mike, Vim, Jay and Julia sledding at the lake with a guest appearance by Steve. I hear they were having a blast. I cannot imagine what it must be like for Jay and Julia who have never really seen snow. Malaysia is in the 80's almost every day of the year.

OK, time to go and skate! More later!

Sick Day

I stayed home today, and while I finally did manage a shower around 3 PM, I think my butt has worn a divot in the couch. I didn't feel up to much. So I just had one of those PJ days hoping that by days end I would feel better. HMMM its evening and I am still feeling a bit yuckie. I feel like I did when I had an advanced case of lyme, which I was told is how I would feel. Tomorrow is a very long day for me too... positive thinking ...
I did manage to entertain myself and explore the Splendid Table today. I tried the guinness gingerbread recipe (SUPER EASY) so that it could be used as stuffing for the chicken I roasted for dinner (also super easy). I was amazed at how interesting this was.

Try this:
1/2 of a pan of the gingerbread - Oh when you make it, if you don't have Golden syrup because we live in the US and not the UK, substitute honey (healthy) or Imitation maple syrup (unhealthy but closer to what golden syrup is)
2 onions chopped
3 cloves of garlic - chopped (more if you feel crappy like me)
1 cup of chopped carrots
2 stalks of celery
provincial herb mixture (rosemary, sage, thyme, savory and a bit of lavender)

Saute the veggies until transparent and crumble the gingerbread then mix together

STUFF YOUR CHICKEN, TURKEY or PORK! (OK I am bored) and sprinkle outside with orange zest and provincial herbs then roast at 350 until done

Then un-stuff and serve. Share it with other people (if you can).

I am amazed at how incredibly boring staying home is. How do people do this? I am so stir crazy! Maybe if I actually moved off the couch and stopped watching stupid cat videos?  Come hell or high water, I am back to work tomorrow!

Setting an example for those who are younger

I woke up this morning not minding the fact that I VOLUNTEERED to stand on the ice for 2 plus hours in below zero temps to make sure a race was skated fairly. I am NOT technically an official, but as a USS level 3 coach I knew that the task I was being asked to do by the MARATHON ORGANIZERS,  BECAUSE THERE WAS NO ONE ELSE, would be done to the best of my abilities. It was merely my intent to follow the mass start protocol as best I could. I did not take being asked to officiate a race lightly. Just as I want my skaters to be treated fairly it is my intent to act objectively and without bias.

Today was by far the worst I have ever seen in terms of unsportsman-like conduct AND without a doubt my LAST time volunteering to do anything other than coach. The lead athletes who decided that the possibility of skating an extra lap was far too much to bare and decided instead that hurling obscenities at me while I tried to remedy the timing and PA situation was acceptable should be ashamed of yourselves. The athletes who took it upon themselves to tell me where to go in some For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge terms and decided to interfere with me discussing rude behavior with pertinent individuals should remember its JUST A RACE, a FRIENDLY COMPETITION, and with nothing of real life sustaining IMPORTANCE in the outcome except knowing the fact that you accomplished an amazing distance in a short amount of time.

Not to mention your behavior was noticed by others who were not participating in the event, some of which were asked to sign a USS Code of Conduct and Athlete Agreements in order to participate in their perspective seasons. Those contracts they signed were set by some of you, or at the very least adults that you assigned the proxy to do so.
With that said, I do hope that the next time you set foot on the ice you understand that the people on the production end are VOLUNTEERING THEIR TIME because they are PASSIONATE about ADVANCING and PROMOTING the SPORT and you can see it in your competitive mindset to PLAY NICE!

Lysek's in the morning

I always seem to be the first one up the morning, even here.  I am surprised at how good I feel despite my bottomless glass of red wine and fitfull/frightfull dreams last night. Its morning here in Lake Placid and absolutely delightful! This morning I am again at the marathon, standing on the ice, hoping that the whole lot skates fast enough for me not to be the latest LP Ice Sculpture.
More later!

Courage in the High Peaks!

December 18, 2010
Lysek's Hillcrest Inn
Lake Placid, NY

I feel like I am home even though I do not own a place here, believe me, I wish I did.  Chris an I are up here for the first of many weekend endeavors skating long track. So far its been a good trip. I could do without the 4.5 hour eommute on a Friday afternoon after teaching all day though. Chris skated 25K this morning while I helped with the race. I had planned on skating, and I know excuses cannot fly, but I bagged the thoughts for a few reasons: 1. I have almost no fitness left right now 2. I decided I did not want to be in that much pain. So, the plan is to skate in February in Lake Morey. I like natural ice.  Its what I grew up on.

Today was a wonderful day. The 7 or so Jr Hopefuls that call the Lake Placid Oval their home ice skated with tons of wishes of COURAGE today. Each one choosing one of my handmade beads before the race, taking a picture on the ice with the bead in hand after the race, and writing an inspirational note to be included with the bead when it is mailed to Beads of Courage next week. I will have pictures soon. What they wrote inspired me so much. I was so glad that I chose to do this.

After the race I headed to Mr. Mikes to meet Peter and Fred for lunch before heading back to Lysek's read for a bit. I am amazed at how much reading I manage to get done here. Liz, you will have your book soon. It was soon time to get to afternoon ice but after spending 3 hours trying to fix Chris's new blades to his new boots, I finally decided that I might need to pay to have this done. These were bolt and insole issues that challenged even John Dimon. Finally, both of us working together got things done. I had exactly 1 hour left to skate, which half of was taken up by my own blade issues. I finally get things set and it 5:55 the session ends at 6.

There is always tomorrow and next week!

Tonight I had planned on meeting Fred and Mickey for a drink, actually really looked forward to it. I ended up getting sidelined by a mean lasagna dinner and lots of wine. (French Canadian's drink more wine then the French I think- how are they racing tomorrow?)  I am smiling now that is until I have a headache tomorrow! (Sunglasses most likely will be a necessity!)

Teenage Angst

On my way home today,  I was looking forward to putting my feet up and doing some reading. Instead I came home to a moment that made me have to be that parent, use my better maternal judgement, and hope that I made the right decisions. I know that my on- the- fly, under pressure thought process was done in his best interest but as I debriefed my child, and reminded him of the lapse in development of his pre-frontal lobe, I also had the privilege of hearing about how much he is hurting. Disappointment and anger has slowly dissolved into empathy. I watch teenagers make mistakes every day. I also watch those same teenagers go through emotional hell at times. Heck there are some HS memories that I still have angst about. I just never thought my kid, who seems so focused and put together, could be feeling so down. He is a victim of the loss of his first love. The thing is that it was months ago.
I remember breaking up with my first love, and to this day there are still certain things that are still painful despite being head over heals in love with my husband. The one thing I can honestly say I was grateful for was that after we broke up I didn't have to see the guy every day as he was a two years ahead of me and was already out of school. My kid doesn't have that privilege. He sees her every day. The head games are poignant and still incredibly fresh.
As we sat there and talked I learned so much about a kid I thought I knew so much about already. I learned that there is an "I am coping" personality where he tells me about the world and then there is the "screaming for help" personality that only asks for help when he is falling so fast but the bottom looks as if its never going to appear and the fear kicks in. So as I think tonight about the consequences for his actions and the level- headed resolve that I acted with initially, part of me feels just as heart-wrenched as I did in 1981 when the final dissolution of my first love relationship sent me over the edge and running to New Bedford. I am not in any way excusing his lack of judgement, just trying to understand where he is coming from so that from this day forward I can help him to make better choices.
I do know he knows I love him!

Monsters with a purpose

Those of you who have seen my ceramic beads know that for the last 3 years they have taken on this Pre-Columbian characteristic. The are simply these grotesque heads that I have never been able to explain. Some of you may know that I have often put little inspirational messages in those beads and given them to teenagers that have had issues dealing with the angst of a reaching for a goal while missing out on the social aspect of being a teenager. Some of the recipients were not teens but received the beads anyway as it was just a package for those much needed words of encouragement. Today, I decided to embark on an even greater journey of hope, I have decided to donate some of my monsters to Beads of Courage.
In anycase, this morning I had planned on being lazy, watching TV while still lying in bed, extending my morning, hoping that my cat will continue to keep me pinned under the covers. I turned on CBS Sunday Morning because I find this magazine show enlightening. I have always felt that it manages to hook the non-artist into enjoying and understanding art. I usually watch it as a tool for my classroom, but I am usually multi-tasking while watching, today I was a completely captive audience. It was refreshing.
When I finally decided to get my behind out of bed I decided to look into Beads of Courage a bit more. I really liked what I saw, my only criticism is that the financial report is not on the web-site. As I learn more, you will too- stay tuned.

The Spirit of something? Maybe? Trying?

I spent the day in one of my favorite places, Saratoga, wishing I had more time to relax and definitely wishing I had time to spend with Kelly, who was busy trying to get her holiday groove on and cookie baking together and Alison, who is off to Hawaii with Rich, who is receiving some award for his SERVICE to our country, but I cannot for the life of me remember what it was even though she spent some time explaining it. The last two months have been a blur trying to prepare for this exhibition in the gallery at the Jonesville Store and trying to heal from what I finally learned was an overzealous Rickettsia infection that I managed to pick up in Korea. I have finally started to get some sleep and feel like myself, something that I have not managed to say in 4 months. Honestly though, while I am starting to feel better, I still feel extremely overwhelmed. Today was typical of my weekend commutes, 2.5 to 3 hours each way. I think I am getting to damn old to be driving 350 miles a day. Next weekend? That starts the 4.5 hour drives to Lake Placid every weekend we are not traveling somewhere else to a competition, something that I am both excited about and dreading at the same time. When will March be here? I am looking forward to competing in marathons this year, but there again, I have barely had the time to train for them. We will see what happens next weekend when I skate my first one in 5 years.

So today? We dropped my work off at the Jonesville Store, called Kelly, chopped down our Christmas tree, spent time with my mother, went to Hattie's Chicken Shack for lunch, drove 150 miles towards home, hit Home Depot for plastic, DiCicco's for beer, Geatanno's for dinner, had a text conversation with Pete, and then finally arrived home. I am trying to decide if I am just road weary or tired, or both. Tomorrow at least I can sleep in, I think. In all of this, I have managed to notice that I am a little short on spirit this year. I am trying.

Pete made me smile from ear to ear when he told me he got me something that would make me laugh and cry at the same time. I have so much to look forward to this year. Mike and Vim come in from KL on Tuesday for a few weeks. The kids must have grown so much since the last time they were here. We will be going to Gary and Camille's Christmas day, something we have not done in awhile. We are going to Pete and Roy's too. I then get to spend a week in Lake Placid doing nothing except skating and reading, eating and sleeping. I am starting to feel the excitement through the fog.

Kelly posted about Christmas past this morning. It got me thinking about the past 9 years. Every year since Chris first dawned a pair of skates we have been in Lake Placid for the week between Christmas and New Years. Last year I skipped across the pond, but Chris still managed to get up there. This year, he had the opportunity to head to Salt Lake but chose to go upstate because he realizes that this will most likely be the last Christmas week he gets to grace LP with his presence. He understands that his life is going to change soon. I think Bob Fenn was a bit disappointed that Chris was choosing the Dacks over the Wasatch but at the same time I think he fully appreciated Chris's wishes and read him the "OK, but stay focused on your training" riot act so to speak. I hope Bob knows that I appreciate this too, as I have just come to realize that this will be one of my last weeks in Lake Placid with him too. Maybe this is what is bothering me, my life it changing, hurtling fast towards that empty nest and while I am really excited about it, I am melancholy as well.

Kelly's post also got me thinking, as I read the Christmas Carol for the first time in years (completely random coincidence BTW) about favorite Christmas memories of my own childhood like hanging out with the Repps and then the Wilkinsons on Christmas Eve, watching The Christmas Story over and over again as well as that stupid yule log, having Mr Repp call his own house from the neighbors playing Santa (I cannot believe we all fell for it). The trips to Bellmore for Christmas dinner at my grandparents; roast beef, yorkshire pudding, string beans and the lemon sherbert and chocolate chip cookies. We would race home to be ready for that early morning trip and the week of skiing in NH. Then when I got married, there were the long trips to Burke Mtn, the renewal of the Wigilia tradition in my family, the rather large house busting Christmas eve open house we have thanks to Kenny's family tradition (where everyone who wasn't Christian had a place to go too), and where Elijah has always had a place at our dinner table and always found our front door left open. There was also New Year's day at Cioci Mary's.

So as the weekend draws to a close and I have thought about the true meaning of all those lights I have passed this evening, I try to find within myself that spirit that I know I have. My wish is that my friends who can totally empathize with my state of being find theirs too. (wink)

If you find yourself wondering around the Capitol District in the next few weeks and have time to kill, are looking for a great place to eat and want to see what my laborious studio rants have been about check out the Jonesville Store. The work should be up by Dec 15th (Wed) and remain there until Jan 31. The champagne and brownie reception will be Jan 9th from 1-3PM.

A Sneak Peek

the birth of a pot= the quest to grow

I am not sure if I should really say anything other than for some reason this particular kiln has been one hell of a journey that started at Salad Days, or maybe firing prior to that with John where we discussed coming into one's own, carving a niche, finding a place and focusing on working from that, deflecting tangent thoughts...? All I know is that somewhere, months before yesterday my journey began with this trickle of a thought. I feel like this was one of those epic experiences in so so many ways, and despite being really happy with the results I can honestly say, I HAVE SO MUCH WORK TO DO!

I am sitting here this morning, looking at my work, getting ready to make that cut, to select those pieces that represent my thought process. I am trying to remember where I stashed Simon Levin's article on self-criticism. If you read this Simon, can you help me out? Maybe, evaluating my work in that manner is not really useful at the moment though. I do need to get it installed at a gallery. Maybe I should just go with my gut and leave my own head out of it? 

What I am feeling right now is not unlike the pre-race jitters one experiences at a sporting event. My work has grown and changed and grown and changed repeatedly over the course of years, always cycling back to that starting point. Its just the past 6 months have been like a growth spurt. I know I am prepared for sharing but I am just as anxious as I would be if I was at the starting line. Maybe that is it, this show is just another starting line. The time leading up to the firing was the preparation. 

Things I have learned about smart phones

While a smart phone is like having a hand held computer constantly at your fingertips, it is not wise to assume that using even the smartest of applications, such as office or excel, to take notes while in a meeting is ok. People generally think you are being rude and texting the world about how bored and unamused you are. True story.

I decided that as I discover the prospect of over indulged connectivity I would try to think about how all of this technology could help me. I found that my fingers are far from nimble enough to type an entry to my blog on that small keyboard, despite being an artist that thrives on small details. Forget about the touch screen, its even worse, there I suffer from chubby finger tips. I sent something off the other day to an organization I belong to hoping to calmly make a statement of quiet criticism, only to find out later that my fingers made me look like a bumbling idiot regardless of how true that might actually be.

I have had to call my phone company twice to understand that my phone is now HIGH MAINTENANCE. No more plug and play, now I have to worry about downloads and apps computing enough to kill the battery in 30 seconds. Don't get me wrong, I love my new phone, and I consider myself quite tech savvy, just the learning curve here makes me feel like I need to take a class on smart phone usage. I want to get the most from it so I feel like I am running it, not the other way around.

For now? The jury is still out!

My smart phone is making me feel really stupid!

I sit here waiting for the train back to school with my students. We spent the morning at the Clay Art Center in Portchester viewing Arnie Zimmerman's work. While waiting, I decided to to check my email and there was a really sweet happy birthday greeting from Kelly's cousin David and my clumbsy fingers are not well suited for my stupid smart phone so it was inadvertently deleted. To you David, I say THANK YOU SO MUCH!

This was a piece of my day. One thing I have to say about all of my students this year is that they made a HUGE deal about my birthday, as did many of my friends, my phone screaming konichiwa
at me endlessly with texts. My students think this is so funny every time it happens. My friend Mike called out of the blue, and my facebook page was filled with well wishes. Kelly,  remember Kelly? She even dedicated a blog post to me. From the outset it seems like it is a glorious day.

By the end of the day I was re-evaluating my previously waning thoughts about my own faith. You see, all of this support was a cushion for the blow that was to come.  I was about to be told that my son Christopher was being denied entry into the American Cup 2 meet that is taking place in Roseville, MN. His registration was late and  NO LATE ENTRIES WILL BE ACCEPTED according to the rules. I was devastated. His goal of making Jr Cat 1 this year has now been dissolved instantly, and it was my fault. OK, I know, its only speedskating. Its not the end of the world, but when its your kid's dreams and you railroaded them without intent its crushing!

So, now what? Chris is still off to Roseville, volunteering at the meet instead of skating. Giving back to the sport that he loves so much. I marvel at his strength. I am so upset and he is accepting it and letting it roll. I think he is happy to share the time with his buddies from MN and to watch them skate without feeling the pressure to perform. He can honestly root for them, unbiased by his own need to succeed. Thank you Karen and Chris for putting him up and helping him see some of the colleges the area has to offer too. I have a good amount of post graduate credits from St. Thomas myself.

Its December 1, a day after I started this post, and I am feeling wiped out by the roller coaster of emotions I have had since my discovery of the registration problem on Saturday. I have spent hours on the phone, equal amounts of time on e-mail, and crushing amounts of time scouring rules and by-laws looking for that edge that might be lifted. I have finally resolved to let it go. I have spoken my peace, more eloquently than I really wanted to. I have been impressed by some, sympathized with others,  gotten mad at several and been severely disappointed by a few but in the end I will acknowledge that the LT Regulations, while not perfect, are there to protect the rights of the competitors for the most part. I just wish I didn't feel like they were interpreted in so many different ways by the same people so many times in one season, season after season, so that I could believe in them whole heartedly.