First Tooth

Everyday Moments: The First Tooth

The tooth had wobbled for weeks. Then at a regular trip to the dentist a couple of weeks ago, the dentist said “feel free to keep wobbling that tooth and playing with it as much as you want. It’s about ready to come out.”

My memories of getting teeth pulled involved small hand tools, my grandfather reached into my small mouth with a pair of pliers, straight from his toolbox and unsanitized, and yanked them out. We suggested this to the little man but, understandably, he didn’t take us up on the offer. So we waited patiently until it was hanging on by the tiniest of threads.  All it took was a tissue and a quick tug and out it popped.

The little man shrieked with excitement as he examined the tiny tooth in his hands. He then rushed to the bathroom mirror to check out the new gap in his smile.

We found a small Lego box to put to the tooth in so that the Tooth Fairy could actually find it in the middle of the night. My brief market research study on the going rate for the Tooth Fairy seemed to show that a £1 coin was fair market value. (Though there were certainly some outliers in my survey with some well posh Tooth Fairies.) We clearly have some work to do educating the little man about how money works. In the morning he was excited to show me that the Tooth Fairy had swapped his tooth for a coin but it was also clear he’d rather her just leave him some Lego.

But in the midst of all the excitement around his first visit from the Tooth Fairy, I couldn’t help but feel a small sense of loss. The years are ticking by so fast and he’s growing up. Baby teeth move over, it’s time to make room for the big teeth.


This Everyday Moments post is part of a regular photographer’s blog circle that I join. Through images, we share moments that celebrate the everyday adventures that make up our lives. Please follow our circle around to see what Everyday Moments Erin captured this month.

Summer Sprinkler Fun
Everyday Adventures

Everyday Moments: Sprinkler Fun

As a kid, there’s no better way to cool off at the end of a long hot summer day than running through the sprinkler.

Summer Sprinkler Fun

And then there’s no better way to have a good laugh than to pick a water fight with daddy and chase him around the garden.

Summer Sprinkler Fun


This Everyday Moments post is part of a regular photographer’s blog circle that I join. Through images, we share moments that celebrate the everyday adventures that make up our lives. Please follow our circle around to see what Everyday Moments Laura captured this month.

Blenheim Palace Triathlon 2015

Race Diary: Blenheim Palace Triathlon 2015

Two weekends ago I participated in my first sprint triathlon (750 m swim, 20 km cycle, 5.7 km run), the Blenheim Palace Triathlon. I don’t really remember the sequence of events that led up to this but I’m certain that it started in December of last year with a little over indulgence in the Christmas cheer.

So back in January I started on this journey. I was already a runner but I didn’t own a bike and my last memories of structured swimming were about 35 years ago when I took swimming lessons with the Red Cross over the summer school break. I had a lot of ground to cover. Luckily, I had three pretty amazing friends who had likewise succumbed to the Christmas cheer. If it weren’t for them I would never have done this. And without them I most certainly wouldn’t have been up at 7:30 am on a cool April morning to go jump in a lake. We were in this together.

I spent the night before Blenheim packing and re-packing, making sure I’d checked off everything on my gear list. Relative to my usual running events, triathlon, as you’d expect, has about three times the amount of kit required. A spreadsheet was necessary to make sure I didn’t forget anything. And as a triathlon novice, I spent time watching YouTube videos of how to set up the all important transition area, the place where you change into your cycle and running gear. I felt woefully unprepared for this “fourth discipline.”

We chose the priority start on Saturday, starting in the first wave of competitors. Despite the early start to the day, this was an excellent decision as parking and getting all of our gear into the transition area were a breeze. As we walked through the gates of Blenheim and into the main courtyard, red carpet covering the grounds greeted us. I admit it was a strange sight to see given the usual grandeur of the place.

Blenheim Palace Triathlon 2015

Weather on the day was stereotypically English, grey and dreary with rain. There was a light drizzle all morning and as we set up our transition areas, the rain became heavier soaking everything. Thankfully, we’d been obsessively monitoring the weather forecast beforehand and came ready with large bin bags with which to cover our stuff. The identification stickers they’d given us to affix to our cycle helmets and bikes even began to disintegrate. So the organizers recommended that we take selfies with our bikes so that we could prove they were ours when the stickers came off.

But the good news about competing in a triathlon when it’s pissing it down with rain, you’re already wet. Getting in your wetsuit and jumping in the lake is no big deal. And as my pre-race look says, I am excited about this challenge, but it is pouring rain and I am voluntarily out in public in skin-tight neoprene. So, I am also questioning my sanity.

Blenheim Palace Triathlon 2015

The Swim

I can swim but I’m not a swimmer. It’s my weakest discipline and was usually the bit I just wanted to finish. I spent the winter doing sessions in the pool and then, once spring arrived, started training in open water at a nearby lake. As I’m in England and not the Mediterranean, this of course required a wetsuit. Now, outside of wool turtlenecks, wetsuits are quite possibly the most uncomfortable article of “clothing” that I’ve ever worn. That is until you get in the water and they completely come into their own.

My friends and I organized a group lesson with a triathlon swim coach who helped us open water novices through the anxiety of the unknown. Annie reminded us that much of the battle in the open water is with your own mind. “The water is not cold. It’s fresh” she said recommending that we change our perspective. I repeated this mantra and then, as instructed, opened the neck of my wetsuit and let the 13.6 Celsius water rush in. It took my breath away. Annie also taught me the only triathlon swimming skill I feel I’ve mastered, the corkscrew buoy turn. In subsequent training sessions with the Oxford Tri triathlon club, we also learned how to cope with mass starts like Blenheim when people literally swim over top of you. It wasn’t until my last open water training session with them, just a week before Blenheim, that I finally felt like I was getting comfortable in the water.

Our wave gathered in a holding pen by the water’s edge until our start time. Then we all donned our green swim caps and jumped off the makeshift pier and into the water.

Blenheim Palace Triathlon 2015

We had to tread water for about five minutes as we waited for everyone to get to the start and then an air horn blast signalled that we were on our way. I’m somewhere in that mêlée of swimmers.

Blenheim Palace Triathlon 2015

It’s tough swimming in a crowd but I did find a way to get into a rhythm and just swim. Maybe because of all the rain, the water was much murkier than my earlier open water training swims and visibility was low. This made it difficult to see the other swimmers around me and it was all but impossible to avoid swimming into someone. And then after 18 short minutes (short for me) I finished my swim and climbed out of the water and onto the crazy long uphill run in my wetsuit back to the transition area, peeling off the wetsuit as I ran. Fingers crossed, all the baby oil and Body Glide I’d applied pre-race would mean that my wetsuit would peel off like greased lightning. (It didn’t.)

The Bike

At the start of this adventure, I didn’t even own a bike. Training through the winter largely meant spin classes in the gym. But I am not a fan of the gym and exercising indoors. So thankfully a spring birthday meant a new bike and plenty of new adventures learning how to ride in clipless pedals. Yep, fell over! Small country roads perfect for cycling litter the Oxfordshire countryside and I found that I really enjoyed this new way to explore and soak in the springtime scenery.

Going into the race I felt confident about the progress I’d made from ground zero on the bike and thought I’d have a strong outing on this leg. But once I extracted myself from my wetsuit and started on the bike leg, three laps around Blenheim, I realized it was going to be a tough ride. Blenheim is a hilly circuit and I’d clearly not spent enough time practicing hill climbs, my legs were burning on the ascent. Also, remember the weather? The course was super wet as it continued to rain. I had little experience riding in the wet and so my bald skinny tires and I were cautious and I didn’t go for it on the bike like I thought I would. At the end, the brake dust I laid down on some of the slippery descents covered my wheel rims. I let the conditions get the best of me. And the whole time on the bike I had this voice in my head telling me to save my legs, I still had to run.

The Run

As my strongest discipline and the one in which I had the most experience, I took running for granted. But do you know what it feels like to immediately start running after you’ve just cycled for 45+ minutes? Until I started training for Blenheim, I didn’t. It feels like your legs are made of jelly/jello (use country specific term here…) and they are screaming at you shouting “WTF are you doing? Stop!” On my first post-cycle “jelly leg run” it was all I could do to stay upright as I stumbled like a drunken sailor down the road. Training for triathlon is a different animal entirely and means including lots of “brick” sessions, a cycle followed by a run, to minimize the jelly-leg effect and get your body used to running on tired legs.

As I put my bike back on the rack in transition, I was glad to finally have the swim and the bike behind me and get into my comfort zone. I knew that even with my energy waning, I had a lot of muscle memory to call on to get me through the run. And, during the run, I was actually glad for the rain. There’s something refreshing and cleansing about running in the rain. It was a good run but nowhere near my best 5K and the official race photos tell a pretty clear story of why. My posture says I’m exhausted, I have no core strength, and my arms are working across my body and against me. My running form had fallen apart. So while I felt like I finished the run strong enough in my first triathlon, there is plenty of room to improve!

The final sprint to the finish was brilliant. Not only did I have a little group of cheerleaders, everyone in my gang of training buddies who had finished ahead of me, but also the announcers called out my name as I ran down the finish chute and across the line. Such a great touch by the organizers.

Blenheim Palace Triathlon 2015

In Summary

🏊 😀 🚴 😕🏃 😐 🏆 😃

Having the endurance and know how to compete in three sporting disciplines, one after the other, is tricky stuff and, in comparison, just running now seems easy. But I loved the experience and the challenge enough to do it again. In September. Full Olympic distance. Crazytown!

And I’m excited to see if any of us made the TV broadcast. It’s on tomorrow the 27th at 6:35 AM on Channel 4 in the UK. (Recording that by the way…)


Thanks to head cheerleader J for many of the photos. Massive gold star for coming out in those conditions voluntarily.

E Burton Lightner

The Rocket Scientist

Last week I said goodbye to my dear uncle. He was a man of science but also deep faith and my memories of him are full of joy and humor. As a kid, I thought of him as a rocket scientist, the man who taught me that we can travel to Mars. He taught me other lessons over my lifetime like:

  • Packing the trunk (boot) of a car is like playing a game Tetris. With a little patience and spatial awareness, it WILL all fit in there.
  • Organization is subjective. What might seem like chaos to those around you is a system that works.
  • Never feel guilty about savoring good food. And remember that life is too short to skip dessert.
  • Map reading is an art and an important life skill. Know that while some routes may be better or faster than others, there is no shortage of paths to your destination. Always trust your inner compass.
  • Trying to recreate Laota’s Sour Cream Rice is a waste of time. No one knows her secret.
  • Sometimes life’s rewards mean pushing boundaries and limitations. If you’re not tall enough to ride on that rollercoaster, stand on your tip toes.

During one of my last visits with him, I could tell that he was thinking deeply about what his last sage words of wisdom to me would be. These would be important words and he didn’t expect to see me again. He said “remember that there only three things that matter in life:  family, faith, and friends. Nothing else matters.” Words of wisdom indeed. I cried, kissed him on the forehead and said “well, I’ll see you tomorrow then OK?” And we both laughed. He’d have another chance for his last words.

Toward the end I think that his perception of time became malleable, he was no longer constrained by the same space-time continuum in which we find ourselves.  “The amount of time we spend here in this time and place is insignificant” he said, pinching his thumb and index finger together to demonstrate. “We are never gone. People are never gone, they’ve just moved on to the next place.” He’d clearly seen what lay beyond the horizon of time as we know it. He asked for his watch, with its thick leather band and metal clip on calendar, it was a tangible artifact that tethered him like a life raft to the time he was passing through. I’m grateful for the moments I got to spend with him on that life raft before it was time for him to let go.

“Now scoot” he said with a wink, giving me permission to let go as well.


Badbury Clump Bluebells 2015
Everyday Adventures, Travels

Our Annual Bluebell Pilgrimage

A few weeks ago we made our annual pilgrimage to the frolic in the bluebells at Badbury Clump. We’ve visited every Spring now and I think that its beauty and magic just keep getting better each year. And this time we were both even brave enough to have a go on the tree swing.

Badbury Clump Bluebells 2015
Badbury Clump Bluebells 2015
Badbury Clump Bluebells 2015
Badbury Clump Bluebells 2015
Badbury Clump Bluebells 2015
Badbury Clump Bluebells 2015