Blogging on the Powwow

June arrives tomorrow - and with it the anniversaries of two events that shaped my adulthood more than anything else: career and marriage. This year, however, seems especially important because of the number of years that have passed between the actual events and now. As they say, "In the blink of an eye..." Blink. Ten years ago on June 2, I finished my PhD (in public policy). It's hard to believe that it's been ten years since I defended my dissertation and was hooded in front of thousands of people, but it's true. Ten years. It was a weekend of celebrations. By the end, I just stumbled from one celebration to another. My wonderful sister, Jen, arranged for a small family celebration at the Milky Way in Jamaica Plain, the night before graduation. I think that there was also a departmental celebration and a hooding celebration that same day. On the day of graduation itself, Tim Russert gave the commencement speech, one that was dotted with conservative message

I am a woman of routine. I eat the same thing for breakfast every day, 7 days a week: banana, peanut butter, and OJ. I have no interest and no desire to drift from this routine. In my third and fourth years of college, I had the same thing for dinner every night: pasta, red sauce, broccoli, and skimmed milk. All of my friends and colleagues from UNH can order for me when we go out to eat: grilled chicken salad, no croutons, balsamic vinegar, and some sort of starch -- usually French fries. When I eat at a restaurant, I order this same meal about 95% of the time. Routine - I really like routines. Most of my readers know of my commitment to running, but few know of my obsession to run 5 days a week, every week, regardless of schedule, fatigue, and plain ol' common sense. Beds without humans in them need to be made; an unmade bed haunts me and disrupts my other activities until I attend to it. I never leave my office for the day, without attending to any loose papers on my desk. They

It all started in March 2011 as I crossed the finish line to complete my 7th marathon - this time, the Lower Potomac Marathon  in southern Maryland. Here I am at the finish line. (I also just have to add in this cute picture of Kathy and Dorothy - wearing their "Team Emi-Lou Staff" t-shirts that Dorothy and Neil had made for this and all race occasions.)  I am a slow runner, but the clock showed that I had shaved 1 minute off my last PR (Personal Record for you non-runners)...completely by accident. For the last 4-5 marathons I had shaved 1 minute off each time I crossed the finish line - and it was unplanned every time. I have always been a casual marathoner. I'd love to hit most sought-after goal for any marathoner - well, the first goal is to just finish. The second goal is to finish in under 4 hours. This is called running a "sub-4 marathon." But, in truth, it just hasn't been in me. I've been happy to run marathons, never paying much atte

It's happened to all of us. We visit the house or neighborhood where we grew up. The trees are different. The street has been repaved. There are more houses on the street and strangers living "next door." We drive past what was, in our youth, a farm. Now? A bustling strip mall. People dragging toddlers in and out of Staples, Target, and the like. No one seems to care that it was once a farm and that part of your childhood is gone. In fact, it seems almost taken without your permission. Stolen. It's true. You can never go home. I started playing the oboe in 4th grade. I wanted to play the bassoon, but it was a bit large for me. So, my mother, a band teacher, suggested that I take up the oboe and later switch to bassoon. I never made the switch. I was especially happy playing oboe. Here's a picture of me at my 7th grade Christmas concert. I was 12. My two closest friends from junior high and high school are beside and behind me: Traci Lamarre Lenzi on flute and Ka