Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Monday, March 29, 2010
I ran that half marathon. It felt good! Beautiful weather, beautiful course. Lots of fun.
A few weeks ago, I did a 12K trail run on Angel Island. I thought I knew what I was getting myself into. Trail runs are intense. It's a race up a
mountain steep hill via switchbacks on a trail. Like a narrow, dirt, hiking trail. Half marathons in the city of Oakland are like a party. A party where your goal is to make it to the end, look good and stay alive.
And let me tell you— I. Was. Meatloaf. Two out of three, ain't bad.
It's exciting to stand in a crowd of people and run when they blow the horn. You feel kinda rebellious running down the middle of the road. People are standing on the streets banging pots and pans together. Bands play. Traffic stops. Everyone claps.
Because it's Oakland, there are Raideretts at the start. Members of the Raider Nation set up camp under the 880. Oakland A's fans that commandeer a corner. You run through downtown and Chinatown. Under freeways, through warehouse districts, past housing projects. You high-five hipsters.
I thought I was fast. I made a BOLD prediction that I had shaved 10 minutes off my time. I thought I hardly EVER walked. I thought I had a bit of kick at the end. I thought I still had a few more miles in the tank. I enjoyed the after party. I used up the beer coupons.
Obviously, I'm alive. And I made it to the end. I had hard time with the looking good. At these races they place photographers on course and they upload the pictures for your purchasing power. I hate having my picture taken. Despite my effort and pretty smile, it didn't work. Let's blame the outfit.
My next half is scheduled for June. I might actually feel like training tomorrow.
Here's a link to the Facebook fan pictures.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
What could it be? Oh, yeah - new posts!
Sorry for the lack of updates this week. I'm in pre-marathon mode. Which means I stress out, fuss at my family and stay hydrated. I am only running the half but it my 2nd half. You know what that means. One half + one half = a whole. Am I right? Can I get one of those 26.2 stickers for my car already?
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Let's say, you have two kids that are close in age. And you put those kids in the same activity (sport, art, etc). Are you obligated to do twice as much as a parent that just has one kid in the class or on the team? On one hand I think yes, but on the other I think no. I mean
Thursday, March 11, 2010
One day last week, I had a Katy Perry kind of day.
'Cause you're hot then your cold.
You're yes then you're no.
You're in then you're out.
You're up then you're down.
The shadow of doubt around a potentially lucrative employment opportunity was cruelly cleared and I was left a voice mail saying that I was no longer in consideration for a job I thought that I had in the bag. It was shocking and somewhat hurtful. I hate rejection.
I write ads. It's not brain surgery, but the words and ideas do come off the top of my head. So by saying you don't like my work is in essence on some level saying you really don't like me. Ugh. I wish I picked a career that had the majority of the free world fawning over me. Although from President to postal worker - I don't really think such a gig exists.
As I wallowed in self pity, I received this email:
After reading your blog and [famous mommy blogger] for over a year... I want you to know I think that your blog is funnier and more interesting.
Hope all is well with you. Keep up the good writing.
Hope all is well with you. Keep up the good writing.
Oh, how those words made my day! I was on cloud nine as I set up our Girl Scout cookie booth outside of Starbucks on the main thoroughfare. Now I don't know about your coffee shop, but ours attracts locals and locos. About half way through the sale a roly poly old man approached the booth. He was wider than he was tall and the first thing you noticed about him was that only about every other one of his teeth were still in his mouth.
Now our Girl Scout council has mystery shoppers, so at first my mind was dueling between pedophile or paid informant. He asked a bunch of questions about tax deductions and pulled out his business card from which I learned he was an accountant for H&R Block. Out of nowhere, he instructs the girls that they should always ask "round" people to buy cookies because round people eat cookies. And then he points to me and says through his missing teeth, "You like cookies." Har, har, har.
Up then down. Another nose dive to my day. I felt like the reporter at the end of this clip.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Erik had himself a birthday on Oscar Sunday. We had a small soiree to celebrate. He's so lucky. One year, his birthday was on Fat Tuesday. In a few years, mine is scheduled to coincide with the end of the world. To mark the occasion and the entrance, we placed some gold and black balloons out front. You know, just to point people in the right direction. A non-verbal cue that the even if you don't see the address, you are indeed at the correct location. While we were still setting up and getting organized, Erik witnessed a group of girls drive up in yellow Mini Cooper. One of the girls hopped out of the car and began untying the balloons.
Erik: Excuse me. What are you doing? Those are our balloons.
Girl: What! I was going to give them to my friend.
Erik: Well, they're ours. It's my birthday.
Then she turned on her heal, threw her hand out and mockingly told her friends It's his birthday. Then she jumped back into the car and drove off.
I couldn't believe the audacity of it all. I might pick up a penny I find on the ground. Or help myself to a please take one. But just walk up and take something that everyone knows isn't lost, free or naturally replenished.
About the time they awarded Best Foreign Language film, I looked outside and the balloons were gone. I'm not sure if it was the same thieves or another group of gangsters, I'd like to think that it was some other hooligans birthday too.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Oh, I've gone and done it! I've shot myself in the foot. Me, of judgy motherhood fame. Me, who proclaims she only allows her kids one extra curricular activity a week. Me, who squinted her eyes and looked down her nose at all the other over scheduled kids. Against the wishes of my husband and my better judgement, I've signed my kids up for every conceivable activity in our community – twice over.
I came to this realization yesterday and am in an all out panic about it ever since. Add to this, our *cough* marathon training schedules, work and camping trips I had to secure months in advance. I am so mad, but yet, I have no one else to blame. Right now, my days and nights and weekends are filled up with carpooling the kids from one activity to another. The worst part is that I know that I did this. I'm trying to get it all on the calendar. I'm pulling in favors from friends and neighbors. "Can Hazel walk over to your house after poetry enrichment?" (Gawd, I'm rolling my eyes at myself as I type. Just so you know, the after school enrichment classes are a fundraiser for the school in addition to adding arts to the curriculum that the State of California is slated to slaughter. Which reminds me, I need to go march and protest at the Civic Center tonight after the Girls Scout meeting and the play rehearsal.)
Don't get me wrong, I like to be busy. Just not double booked for the next 8 weekends and every day in between. Sure, I can take deep breaths. Yes, I know that the world will not end if Lula misses a softball game. (Remind me to tell you about the pitching clinic.)
Right about now, I think it's me that needs to hit upside the head.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
I talked to my Grandma Dee today. Remember, it is ALWAYS something with her. We talked about my cousin who is expecting and her sister, my cousin who is getting married, how she took the Council On Aging van to her Doctor's appointment and she told me for the second time that her church is having their annual dinner on Sunday. It's St. Patrick's and "they always have corned beef and cabbage. And pie! They make the best pie. " We talked briefly about my uncle who got divorced a few years ago after his wife left him for the hired man. I call her Lucille, but I don't think my Grandma gets my joke. Another uncle had some medical tests and a biopsy yesterday. She doesn't know when he'll get the results. The doctor told him to rest after the procedure but a cow was "calfing" (having a baby) and they had to go pull it. She'll never forget, it was last year or the year before that, my uncle was pulling a calf and it's head was out. It's tongue was out too. The tongue is always out, she says.
And then she just blurts out a series of words that were disturbing and forever imprinted in my brain. I'm going to spare you the same fate. Just imagine if Quentin Tarantino and Rob Zombie made a movie that took place on a farm in central Kansas. Yeah.
So while my mind is reeling from the image of the story that now she and I will never forget she closes our conversations with "let's talk of nice things next time. Just happy stuff." She was referring to bringing up the divorce not the cow.