The Long Way

National Blog Posting Month, a few days late.

2008-11-07T15:28:00.000-08:00

So I found out through anatomist that it's National Blog Posting Month, and to participate you post every day. I guess that's a good enough reason to try and come up with something halfway interesting to say, though sometimes I feel like this is more of en edited journal than a blog given my minimal audience. So let's roll.
For reasons of privacy I would rather not comment on life in general, though I do have a few things to report since last time. I know I will regret using these all up later, but here goes.
I got my first article accepted for publication in a print magazine. 1400 words! My delusions of being the next Bill Bryson (with a softer and more adventure-philic edge) are slowly coming to fruition.
I went swimming at aquatic park yesterday and made it out to the buoy and back. It was really difficult and wonky, between the cold water, the waves, a bulky wetsuit, and being a crappy swimmer. At the buoy you can see the Golden Gate Bridge which was cool, and it was a beautiful sunset.
We made beer during my last stint in NYC. I hope to get around to posting pictures one of these days.
I'm looking forward to this weekend. I'm going to crash the Big Sur Half Marathon and visit J, N, and little A down in Santa Cruz.
I saw a fricken Turkey in the middle of the road as I walked to catch the van this morning. The picture sucks, but it does show the relative absurdity of the situation. He was just hanging out.
That's all for now. Stayed tuned for tomorrow- the haircut and color, the drive to Big Sur, and eating dinner with the runners...

A Good Day

2008-10-09T16:26:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning at 5:15 to my alarm, and decided that 10 hours at the office was too much (plus the boss is out of town). So I threw my surfboard and running stuff in the car and drove out to Bolinas. I just kept feeling calmer and calmer as the landscape became more rural, with the orangey sunrise light and the cows grazing and the big old Doug Firs along the ridge. Per usual, as I drove I kept trying to figure out the perfect job where I can earn city money while living in the country.I mean, there is a reason that cooped up executives put pictures of Nature on their office wall, right? Maybe they havce more taste than I give them credit for (though the experience is mediated...uh oh, that's grad school talking).
I got to the beach and it was breezy and the waves were crumbly. I saw a man and his teeny daughter all bundled up and toddling, a couple people camped on the beach near the edge of the cliffs, a flock of pelicans cruizing over the water. There were 2 guys out messing around in the whitewater and another guy was about to paddle out. I didn't see anything that inspiring.
I drove out to the Bird Observatory at the southern end of Point Reyes National Seashore, and decided to test my knee out. I saw a bunny in the parking lot as I put my shoes on. I only jogged for a half hour or so, but holy cow the views out over the ocean were sweeping and incredible. My knee still feels achy, but I mentally planned a huge run for this weekend out at Point Reyes. We will see. I drove back feeling refreshed.
Pops drove me to BART, and I rode BART to work, attemping to help an Indian woman figure out how to get to the consulate. I managed various things at work, and helped out the kids next store by finishing some analysis I said I would do awhile ago.
I had a spinach salad and some microwave lean cuisine pasta for lunch. The diet is still going well enough, keeping my eyes on the prize as best I can.

Back to blogging?

2008-10-08T14:38:00.000-07:00

It always amazes me how much information about me is stored somewhere online. I mean, Amazon can tell me which books (such as the Roadside Geology of Baja) I bought in 2002. I can barely remember what I did last week. Anyhow, this blog appears to still be here, as am I, so I figured I would give a quick update.
Got back from New York on Sunday night. It was a rough day. I ran 9 miles of the Wineglass Marathon (the first 1/3rd) as a relay, but I had intended to run the whole thing. But around mile 6, my right knee started killing. I made it to the relay transfer point (running 8.5 minute miles, happily), but was super disappointed. Enter cry #1. Afterwards, II and I drove back to drop me at JFK, but my flight was delayed which made it so I couldn't catch the midnight Airporter back to Marin. So my options were attempt to navigate public transportation at midnight on Sunday, to sleep on the floor of my office in Oakland (which also meant braving downtown Oakland at 1am), or calling my poor generous father and asking for a ride. Enter cry #2. Luckily pops was kind enough to make the journey- I don't think I could maintain this life without II or my family.
I have been babying my knee ever since with ice, heat, ibuprofin, and topical/oral arnica, but I'm still nervous about it. I tried to jog this morning and turned around immediately because it hurt. Instead I did an hour of elliptical training and 45 min or so of kickboxing at lunch, just trying to keep my overall fitness up. I have signed up for my first 50k at the end of the month, and I want to get in as much training as I can before it's time to rest. Now I am trying to figure out whether I should head to the Sierras this weekend with R and his buddy- I am leaning towards sticking around the Bay Area and being able to move on my own schedule. Maybe do a run with the Luna Girls or out at Point Reyes, eat some yummy pizza at the Bovine Bakery, and meditate out at the Zen Center all sounds pretty good right now. Of course, I would rather sleep under the stars any day, but my body doesn't seem to like the idea all that much at the moment.
Oh, this isn't my baby. I just thought it was the cutest thing in the world. No insinuations here either- I got a lot to do before I start breeding...

Tacos!

2008-08-04T12:52:00.000-07:00

I'm such a crappy blogger. I don't like to actually reveal how self-absorbed I am, so eventually loose interest. There is no point in starting at the beginning, so I will start at lunch today, and once I get some pictures, I will talk about yesterday's marathon.
Back to lunch.
I'm in San Diego with II for a conference, and so I ran out to grab tacos in the nearby Mexican neighborhood. So happy I did. "Las Cuatro Milpas" is fricken amazing, and the internet says it's been around since 1933. Smoky delicious salsa, incredible meat, crumbly white cheese, and tons of little decor points like a menu made of moveable letters and super simple interior. I brought back 4 tamales, ate 2 tacos, and paid a whopping $10.

Things that will never be cool

2008-06-03T07:55:00.000-07:00

EvilKat, Poverty, C and I created this list a divey bar in Portland a few months ago. Luckily our waiter was a hipster who could confirm whether hipsters had appropirated various items on this list. We oriented our list towards things hipsters would never become cultish about, either honestly or ironically.
We also decided that "Underestimating the Mumu" would be an awesome band name.

Things that will never be cool
1. All-inclusive vacations
2. Looney tunes
3. Pedicure toe separators
4. Kid Rock
5. JDate
6. Regular, homogenized, non-organic 2% milk
7. The chicken dance
8. Sub-saharan Africa (with the exception of South Africa)
9. Orlando, Florida
10. Fake clown noses
11. Hot topic
12. Being a competitive diver
13. Telling your friends how much you love them when you are sober
14. Tanning booths
15. Believing in crystals
16. USA Today
17. Suburbs
18. Dark Star Orchestra

5 Things Post

2008-04-22T05:37:00.001-07:00

5 things I was doing 10 years ago

1. Finishing up my first year of college
2. Slowly replacing my collection of Grateful Dead bootlegs with country music
3. Getting ready to head up to the Sierra's
4. Realizing that Washington actually does have some semblance of summer
5. Morphing from a forest activist into something different

5 things on my to do list
1. Run a marathon
2. Spend as much time in "Nature" as possible this summer
3. Write more
4. Plan an awesomely fun wedding
5. Get better at Spanish

5 snacks I enjoy
1. Laughing cow cheese
2. Berries
3. Dates
4. Cashews
5. those little honey sesame sticks from Trader Joes

5 things I would do if I was a billionaire
1. Travel and surf half the year
2. Build a teeny modern cabin on our other piece of property in Central America
3. Write
4. Get my PhD
5. Go to art school

5 bad habits
1. Leaving my clothes in little piles wherever I took them off
2. Easily distractable
3. Too much coffee, too much wine
4. Hard time with decisions
5. Bad at keeping in touch

5 Places I've lived
1. Tasmania, Australia
2. Alpine, Alaska
3. Olympia, WA
4. Santa Barbara, CA
5. Oakland, CA

5 jobs I've had
1. Teachers Assistant
2. Graphic designer
3. Flower Arranger
4. White water rafting guide
5. Field biologist

The Car Won't Start (working title)

2008-02-29T08:54:00.001-08:00

I had turned the steering wheel back and forth, pumped the clutch, and wiggled the key in the ignition. Barely keeping my balance on the ice, I got out of the driver’s seat and rocked my 1989 Toyota pickup back and forth, hoping to jiggle whatever had become unjiggled back into place. No dice. It was becoming more and more official that my truck wasn’t going start with my amateurish coaxing.

Before this starts sounding overly dramatic, let me clarify that I wasn’t in a particularly life threatening situation. Uncomfortable, sure, but by no means dire. It was noon on a Friday and I was stuck in the parking lot of my local supermarket. I considered my options. I didn’t want to call a shop or a tow truck just yet- the last time this had happened my truck came to life a few hours later with no part replacements or fluid refills necessary. I decided to walk the couple miles home, and come back and check on my truck later when my boyfriend came home from work.

The only hook, however, was the weather. The temperature was below freezing, but snow did not float silently and picturesquely from the sky. Instead hunks of rain pelted down, slamming into the ground with apparent vengeance. When I walked to my car that morning, it was encased on all sides by a thin layer of ice, resembling an oblong rippled jellyfish. Slushy puddles emerged around curbs and in driveways, covered in dubiously strong partial coatings of ice. Coincidentally, the night before I had finished reading the story of Randy Morgensen, a ranger in the high Sierra backcountry who had spent his last few moments on earth pinned by rushing water to the wall of an icy lake after having crossed an ice bridge which had given way. Granted, a parking lot in upstate New York was no remote Sierra back country, but it did make the slashes of sharp, windy snow seem just a little more ominous.

The market was in the type of area that has found its way into the outskirts of nearly every major town in recent years, with gargantuan chain bookstores, restaurants, hardware stores, and a Wal-Mart. You know the area- you may swing by after work to pick up a copy of “Eat, Pray, Love” for your aunt for her birthday, but it’s certainly not the type of place you stroll through leisurely on Saturday afternoon. The main road was one of those “formerly the main highway until a bigger highway got built nearby” type of roads, not constructed with pedestrians in mind. The condo we were living in was tucked away right off this main road, backing up on a chunk of forest that would no doubt be developed similarly in the upcoming years. I was not anticipating this walk being overly pleasant, but I have the tendency of being somewhat stubborn when I decide to take something on.

I was a bit chagrined to realize that despite leaving the house thinking I looked kind of cute, or at least appropriate for running errands, nearly half of what I was wearing was completely appropriate for a walk in the snow. I had bought my hat for doing fish surveys in Alaska, I had worn my fleece on many backpacking trips, and my down vest had kept me warm during lots of cold nights in the Sierras. Even the yoga pants I was wearing would wick away water. While my attire was certainly convenient for the situation at hand, the minor fantasy that I successfully disguised myself as an urbanite had been dashed.

After wrapping up my purse and its contents in plastic grocery bags swiped from the market, I began my trek. Even as I crossed the parking lot towards the main road, I realized that I had gotten myself into a jarringly adventurous situation. It was cold. Really cold. The wind flapped all loose articles of clothing, and the freezing rain found its way inside the collar of my jacket. My nose went numb. I quickly soaked my running shoes (the weakest part of my ensemble) and had to keep wiggling my baby toes to keep my socks from freezing solid. Even with my slapdash winter garb on, I felt like I was at that part of an outdoor adventure when you realize you have gotten in a little over your head.

I slogged on down the road, tucking myself behind the guardrail to avoid being run down by a semi or a freewheeling minivan. Not much care had been put in to making the area “pedestrian friendly”, which is a bit of an understatement considering there was not a sidewalk in site. Somewhat ironically the road was lined with car dealerships, and I amused myself by fantasizing that it was an intentional juxtaposition in order to increase business (“I’m sick of walking on this damn road with no sidewalk! I’m going to buy a car right now!”). At one point I heard rumbling, and turned to see a giant man in an equally giant snowplow barreling in my direction. Trapped between the main road and a small embankment, there was nowhere for me to escape the concoction of brown slushy ice, freezing water, and dirty rocks that it had churned up. The man caught my eye, shrugged his shoulders, and in desperation I threw myself face down against the embankment, hoping to avoid the worst of the concoction. I was mediocre in my success.

After picking myself up and wiping myself off, I thought back on nicer (warmer) days. The previous summer, a family friend and I had gone on a weekend-long backpacking trip in Big Sur. We were a couple miles from our car when the narrow trail transitioned into a dirt road, and given that it was getting late we decided to try and flag down a ride. We heard a car approaching and stuck out our thumbs. The SUV rumbled past us up the road without stopping, leaving a cloud of dust behind it for us to inhale. As it passed, we could see through the back windshield that its back seat was empty. We stared at one another, aghast. The prospect that this person, having seen our need for a ride, would actually disregard it and continue on, was unthinkable. It was akin to finding someone hurt on the side of the trail and leaving him or her. This jerk in the SUV had violated one of the cardinal rules of wilderness ethics- help each other out.

But today, car after car whipped past, none of them stopping to offer me a ride, and I didn’t feel the same anger that I did in Big Sur that summer. While I was filled with a vague, sinking disappointment, I knew that every person’s decision not to stop was couched in a mental process that justified it. I was an axe murder, they couldn’t pull over in time, they were late, the front seat was full of trash. I don’t think these were excuses to justify selfishness, but rather ways that we deal with the utterly overwhelming complexity of everyday modern life. My bet is that most people who saw me trudging through the snow wanted to pick me up, but you can’t give money to every homeless person. You can’t adopt every puppy. So we donate money to a cause we believe in or we volunteer on the weekends, as if compassion had an on/off switch. Or does that just make it easier to drive on by?

I have always been attracted to the outdoors, and I can’t deny that some it has to do with the utter clarity that dictates one’s actions. If you are thirsty in the wilderness, you don’t have to face the grocery store, with its entire aisle of water and the ensuing mental process it takes to get from there to drinking. What brand? How much does it cost? Plastic or glass? Where is it from? Should I just drink tap water? While nature holds its own physical challenges, for the most part they are set in front of you cleanly and neatly, like a math problem or a cake recipe. You find a stream, boil water, purify it. The chain of decisions begins and ends at a single point. The decision tree of the water aisle branches out into so many directions, with some much trust placed in things we can’t see or touch. The conclusion is guaranteed, but at what consequence?

Sometimes I think I am not fit for this world. I wish I could be more like the people driving by me today, who don’t think about the ways in which we draw boundaries around ourselves. But as much as I will always enjoy the crispness of the high Sierras or watching the sun melt into the ocean from the cliffs above, I don’t want to need the wilderness to make a decision with clarity. I don’t want to be absolved of responsibility, to cop out and turn my decisions over to a trail or a rainstorm. The real challenge lies in the normalcy of the side of the road here today, where it’s not life and death, where the weather feels like the wilderness, but there is no turn out to stop and think. How do I sort through the overwhelming choices and make a decision with clarity? How do I decide when to stop the car and when to drive on by, and know that I made the right decision?

No one offered me a ride that day, as much as wished they would. Sick of dodging the spray from cars, I cut through a small forest to cover the last half-mile and hacked my way through saplings and shrubs with plastic bags wrapped around their bases. At home, I wrung out my icy clothes, threw them in the dryer, and climbed into the shower to thaw out. Later that night my boyfriend came home, and he drove me the couple miles down the road to the grocery store parking lot. A man was walking on the side of the road and I though about picking him up, but we were only going a short distance and he looked disheveled and dirty. We made it to my truck. I put my key in the ignition, and turned it. It started.

Belated Goodbye 2007

2008-01-10T16:39:00.001-08:00

1. What did you do in 2007 that you’d never done before?
Got a promotion and a raise. Lived alone. Prioritized love. Learned how to shoot a mean game of pool.
2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?  
I think I resolved to be happy. Always a work in progress.
3. Did anyone close to you give birth? 
The anatomist, Jack and Sara, Scott and Marley, GalloBlue. Wow.
4. Did anyone close to you die? 
No.
5. What countries did you visit?
Costa Rica and Canada.
6. What would you like to have in 2008 that you lacked in 2007?
The adventurous spirit of my late teens combined with a strategic plan for not having to eat cat food when I retire.
7. What dates from 2007 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
New Years Day, when Double I and I surfed with the sea turtles. Greg’s wedding. The VA Beach half-marathon. Seeing Pat Green in Poughkeepsie. Christmas with the family in Costa Rica.
9. What was your biggest failure?
Obsessing about the wrong things.
10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
Lyme disease and jellyfish stings. Both quickly cured.
11. What was the best thing you bought?
Um…whiskey?
12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
Double I.
13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
Bushie is always an easy target.
14. Where did most of your money go?
Savings, retirement, and plane tickets.
15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
Getting a raise, promotion, and more time with Double I all in one day.
16. What song will always remind you of 2007?
Ticks by Brad Paisley
17. Compared to this time last year, are you:  a) happier or sadder?  b) thinner or fatter?  c) richer or poorer? 
Happier, thinner, and richer. That sounds really braggy.
18. What do you wish you’d done more of?
Relax.
19. What do you wish you’d done less of?  
Stress.
20. How did you spend Christmas?  
Doing yoga in Costa Rica.
21. Did you fall in love in 2007?
Already was.
22. What was your favorite TV program?
The Office. Planet Earth.
23. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?
Nope.
24. What was the best book you read?
Garbage Land by Elizabeth Royte.
25. What was your greatest musical discovery?
Nothing.
26. What did you want and get?
Some fun adventures. Money in the bank.
27. What did you want and not get?
Clarity about the future.
28. What was your favorite film of this year?
Into the Wild.
29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
Went out to dinner at Oliveto in Oakland. I was 27.
30. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
To have someone offer to pay Double I and I to travel the world, surfing and taking pictures.
31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2007?
Cowboy boots, jeans, and American Apparel.
32. What kept you sane?
Double I.
33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?  
All of them.
34. What political issue stirred you the most? 
Clean Energy.
35. Who did you miss?  
Santa Barbara.
36. Who was the best new person you met?  
Emily P., I think.
37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2007.  
If it wasn’t work, they wouldn’t call it work, they’d call it wacky crazy zany fun time.

Banksy Gallery Opening, NYC

2007-12-02T16:46:00.000-08:00

We awoke this morning to lightly falling snow. Having had a very limited relationship with the powdery white stuff until now, I try and savor the aesthetics of snow that seem new and exciting- the curve of white along a branch, the simple color combination - because I know that some day they will loose their novelty, and they never carry the same weight as they do now.
DoubleEye had work to do today, so I went down to NYC to the Banksy gallery opening. Like your generic upstater I stumbled my way through the subway system, finally arriving close enough to the gallery in Chelsea that I felt confident walking in the 20-degree weather. I can't say I was entirely surprised to see a line of accessorized hipsters that nearly wound around the block. Despite the wait, the line provided good entertainment, and I quickly gathered that the group was a loosely affiliated social circle, with everyone letting their "friends" join the line with them, after which they would chatter about new bands, fetch coffee, and cheerfully speculate about how long it would take to get into the gallery. The best part of the line was when it went under a bridge where pigeons roosted, which would occasionally poop on an unaware hipsters head. Another point of discussion was the brightly lit sign across the street- "Fake IDs are against the law!" it flashed. "Dude, I'll bet Banksy put that up", said one hipster. "I'll bet he did!" agreed another. "Actually, I saw that sign there last week", said a third.
At one point, a baggy-pantsed, shaggy haired guy leaned against a wall across the street. At first I thought he was peeing, but then heard a familiar hiss, and saw semi-competent graffiti emerge as he stepped to the right. Graffiti. At a Banksy show. My cynical self tried to tell myself it was celebratory, like the deadhead in the parking lot strumming "box of rain" on an acoustic guitar.
The gallery was a small, brick, three story building, with terrifyingly narrow staircases given the plethora of people wearing ice-coated heeled boots. Inside were all of Banksy's classics- the guy throwing the bomb of flowers, the framed "It is always o.k. to lie to cops", the Queen of England in a compromising position. And when faced with the actual art, it all looked like one idea I had when I was a freshman in high school. There is something about being told to not let the man keep you down that negates the very concept of rebelling against the man keeping you down. Where would Banksy's art be without something to rebel against? He offered no solutions, nothing to have faith in, just the commodification of archetypal icons of oppression withe pieces replaced and reconfigured. It reminded me of the hostage situations you hear about, when the hostage eventually loves his captor because it is so much easier than stomaching the utter humiliation of being held captive. It seemed as though Banksy needed to be oppressed to have any original idea, and yet the original idea was the very thing he professed to hate.
I was hoping to see the humour in Banksy's work, which was what drew me to him in the first place, and I believe that it exists somewhere. But this show did not capture the fun, the spirit of inventiveness that I had hoped for. Instead it seemed, like my brother texted me, "edgy art for squares". And I expected to be the square, but I wasn't, and edginess seemed muted at best.
I spent a fraction of the time in the gallery as I did in line, and when I left the moisture in the air had made the scruffy kid's graffiti bleed. The formerly legible moniker painted a rainbow of black down the corrugated metal door.

Worms revisited

2007-11-25T12:41:00.000-08:00

A few entries ago, I promised I would detail the worm process. Now that after two months the worms aren't dead, a festering fly-ridden mess, or some other type of disaster, I will happily chronicle the worm adventure.
So I ordered the condo of worm bins, called a Can-O-Worms. Get it? I first had to line the bin with newspaper, then soaked something called coil in water, then added newspaper and food scraps, and then added worms.
So far everything has gone great, except for one problem which is that we create too many food scraps for the little guys. I am hoping they reproduce and can eat more soon. Now I'm one of those urban dorks that carts compost around looking for willing receptacles.
I've become a bit of a worm zealot, I will gladly admit. It's been incredible easy and a great conversation starter. I will willingly fully admit that I'm not saving the world this way, but If I have tp use environmental concern as an excuse to play with worms in the dirt, so be it.

Fall is here!

2007-10-05T04:50:00.000-07:00

"Fall is in the air and that means seven things: Political elections, Lyle Lovett’s birthday, the holiday where ghosts make candy, April Fool’s Day, it’s too cold to play tennis, look out for skunks, and most of all, baseball." -Creed Bratton, The Office

Truck this!

2007-10-01T16:59:00.000-07:00

So as ridiculous as it may be, my dream of 12 years has been realized. I now drive a pickup truck. Not my boyfriend's pickup truck, not a pickup truck inherited from my sibling, not a pickup truck financed by anyone else, but my very own 1989 toyota tacoma pickup truck. I love it. I absolutely love it. It's really clean and simple (manual locks and windows), but it looks so new for an '89. I am so happy.

Look, ma! Art!

2007-09-06T08:50:00.000-07:00

So now that I don't have to spend every spare second running, I get to have other hobbies. Last night the boys cooked dinner while I made these pieces of jewelry. I must admit it was a bit of a flashback to early high school (not helped by the fact that Ron was blasting the Grateful Dead while he cooked) but it was fun to have a small linear project that I knew how to do that I could finish quickly.

I did it!

2007-09-05T06:27:00.000-07:00

My quads hurt, I have chafing in my armpits, and we have lots of coupons for energy bars scattered around the house. Yes, folks, we ran our half-marathon in VA Beach this last weekend. We stayed with a couple friends of DoubleEye's, who impressed me with their athletic and partying abilities. When we weren't running we were listening to has-been bands, drinking a dangeous drink called an Orange Crush, or hanging out with Ten's extended family and eating. What's not to like?
I always find these runs somewhat amusing for a variety of reasons, but I think the funniest part of this one was when I ran past a band and they we're playing a song whose chorus went "Slow down, girl" over and over again. Um, excuse me? At a half marathon? Ten and I finished together at 1:52, despite her lack of training and her ability to drink like a fish both before and immediately after the run. I definitely felt I pushed myself the whole way, which made me slighly dissapointed that I didn't beat my time from a few years ago by more that 1 minute, but I am still happy with how I did. Except the next morning we went surfing and I hit myself in the face with my surfboard, which continues to hurt 4 days later. I am trying to characterize it as Cameron Diaz-esque, despite the fact that it's really just my utimate dorkiness shining through.

Running in Newer York

2007-08-29T07:30:00.001-07:00

Attached is a picture of a Visa/Mastercard magnet I found while running home from dropping off DoubleEye's car to get tuned up. Lots of roadkill this time of year, but I left that to decompose more (see, I do have standards!). The Jeep needs a tune up, plus the door locks don't work so he can't open the door for me, so hopefully this evening the car will be happier. The magnet is holding up a schedule of gym classes for the gym we joined this weekend, such as spinning and kickboxing, the kind that I always make fun of then end up enjoying. DoubleEye has been getting rides to work with our housemate Ron, so I get the car during the day. I work for a few hours, and then I have been heading to the gym during the mid-morning elderly hour, where access to equiptment is high. Then I stop at the farm market on the way home to pick up things we need, then get back to work. My desk is by the window, so I can watch the birds, though I need to get the screen off, a pair of binoculars, and a bird book so I know what I am seeing.

More snakes!

2007-08-20T09:40:00.000-07:00

After a wonderful weekend in SB with mama, we were invited to the Rangers house for dinner. Given that the half marathon is a short 2 weeks away, I decided to run there (btwn 5 and 6 miles). Boy was it hot out. Anyhow, I found my second dead snake of my training on the side of the road. This guy was much smaller, I found him about 2 miles into the run, and he had a little bit of blood on him. This meant the next 4 miles would involve clutching a sweaty, slightly bloody snake in my hand as I tried to focus on my spanish lesson podcasts. But I decided to take him with me, thinking that my dinner companions would love to see him. I also realize now that this line of reasoning is most often pursued by cats in regards to dead birds. I also think I need to re-examine my standards, since I seem to be lowering them with each dead snake I find. In a few months will I be toting home decapitated racoons?
Anyhow, see attached pics to enjoy the little guy. (Thanks to Smarty, my childhood dentist, who stopped by on a bike ride and took these pics). After show and tell I buried him in the leaves, and I do feel back for all the damage cars do to the world. But dead snakes make great necklaces, no?

Still running

2007-07-12T09:00:00.000-07:00

The running continues, and I think I beat my own record for "most interesting thing found on the side of the road". Last weekend my extended family from my dad's side spent the weekend in wine country. I had to do my weekly long run, so I took off early in the morning. About a mile and a half into my run I found a dead snake on the side of the road, but he had no visible injuries so he looked nearly alive. I decided that I would scoop him up on my way back if he were still dead when I returned.
I think that everyone training for a marathon should carry a dead snake for the last 1.5 miles. It really gives you that excitement you need to keep going, plus the looks from early-morning walkers is priceless. Attached is a photo of me attempting to vamp with the snake on my head. While I thought he could have been perfect for a variety of hijinks, my dad reminded me of the potential heart attacks in the group, and I put him in the forest to decompose naturally.

Bay to Broker

2007-05-23T06:58:00.000-07:00

Location: San Francisco California 2007 Bay to Breakers
Weather: Awesome. Sunny and Clear.
Distance: 7.46 miles, baby.
Thought about: What a fricken cool event this is. A run and a costume party. Creative exercize. Halloween in May. When I ran past the various peanut galleries, I was also psyched that everyone seemed to have a role- some people gave you water, some people play music from their balconies, some people dress up like kegs. It's like nature- interconnectedness, baby.
Favorite things: The people offering you shots of whiskey and cigarettes as you run past. The guy who I ran with the first half of the race who was dressed up like a female convict and was carrying a little stuffed tiger in a purse.
Time: 1:03. Faster than I thought I could do it.

New Addition to BEST THINGS ABOUT RUNNING list
5. Getting to throw your paper cup on the ground.
6. Beating the guy dressed like a giant grape.

2007-05-19T07:00:00.000-07:00

Yesterday morning's run:
Location: David Balfour Park in Toronto, Canada. I was using google maps to find a suitable running location in the neighborhood where I was staying, and saw that David Balfour Park was extremly close to my B&B. When I looked it up online, I ran into a veritable manifesto about how gay men should habe the right to have sex in parks unless they disturb the neighbors, because parks are created for everyone. In regards to old David Balfour, there was a quote from a sanitation worker that "We find a lot of used condoms there, but we never get any complaints." The workers must being doing their job quite effectively, as I saw nothing but yuppies walking their dogs. I think seeing used condoms tops the "Worst things about running" list I am planning on making.
Speaking of, perhaps I'll start that now because the only other cool thing I saw while running was a reddish brown squirrel with a huge black tail. I don't mean to denigrate the coolness of this (I was blown away), but I can do better.
I will begin the lists below, and am very open to suggestions.

BEST THINGS ABOUT RUNNING
1. Running
2. Eating greasy food afterwards
3. No fancy gear, no gym memberships
4. Getting to mess around outside

WORST THINGS ABOUT RUNNING
1. Running
2. Accidentally eating bugs
3. Seeing used condoms
4. Shin splints

More to come...

O Can uh duh

2007-05-16T15:46:00.000-07:00

Hello friends and family,
We'll, I've somehow managed to find myself in beautiful Toronto, Canada. I swear, I always thought that once I used my brain for a living I wouldn't get out much. I travel just as much now, albeit in a different outfit and through a different mode of transportation.
But to stay true to my focus, I will talk about my last run...which was in New York. Ha! Canada is next.
Location: Stewart National Forest near Newburgh. DoubleEye's uncle came up to run his dog in field trials, wherein dogs bound after dead ducks. It was pretty cool to see dogs I had previously percieved as yuppie toys like golden retrievers retrieve something other than a tennis ball.
Length: 60 minutes (no odometer)
Outfit: Gosh, I don't remember anymore. Probably Double Eyes old gym shorts and an Army tee shirt. Ravishing, I know.
Weather: Beautiful.
Thoughts: Mostly about the little cabin I am going to build in my parents backyard. Also whether or not I was lost.
Found: A windbreaker, but I left it on the fence it was draped over. Lilac trees, but I didn't feel like carrying the lilacs as I ran.

Sunshine and Dead Birds

2007-05-07T09:44:00.000-07:00

Until I run the marathon, I am going to make a point of blogging about my daily runs.
Location: Newburgh, NY along a country highway. The shoulder was large enough to not fear for my life and provide an abundance of debris to ponder.
Length: 35 minutes (no odometer)
Outfit: My typical pieced-together gear. I attempted to purchase a semi-coordinated running ensemble at the Target this weekend, but left equally annoyed with consumer culture and how weird my lanky body looks in anything except jeans and tank tops.
Weather: Sunny. New leaves on the trees. That "anything is possible" feeling of spring.
Thoughts: Freaking myself out by thinking about what is in those small garbage bags that are knotted at the top. Guessing all the fonts used on the billboards. Also, and I admit this is a little weird, thinking that I should perhaps carry wire snips to snip the wings off dead birds. When I worked for MF he showed me how you could clip bird wings and hang them above the wood-burning stove splayed out until they dried. My last 2 runs I have seen 2 dead birds (mangled beyond the point of being desireable, I'll admit) but I'd like to be prepared when I see one that deserves to be collected.
Found: A little doll and a computer chip. See photo.

Back East

2007-05-06T10:13:00.000-07:00

There is no way I will catch up on the last two weeks geographies and activities, so I will make some executive decisions and report only (1) the important stuff and (2) the funny stuff.
Important: The marathon training is going well. I will be running the Wineglass Marathon in Western New York in late September. I feel it's appropriate given that I was drunk in New Orleans when I decided to run this crazy thing. My new favorite thing is rest days. Despite the advice of many an experienced runner, I have stubbornly had myself convinced that a daily run of 3 miles or so is the way to go, so I have slogged myself through that type of training schedule for years now. But get this- you take a day off, and the next days run is infinitely easier and you can run much further comfortably. Okay, I'm echoing the voices of every experienced runner I've ever spoken to, but I swear, it's abolutely glorious as a traning regimen.
Funny: I actually saw an extremely overweight women on the plane eat a bag of potato hips while reading "Health".
Important: I am in NY now with DoubleEye, who will be having his eye surgery on Wednesday.
Funny: Old-but-Classy may be in town the day of the survery, and he promised to bring by some "adult" magazines for DoubleEye to read while he recovers. Get it? Because he wont be able to see!
Important: I'm thinking more and more about moving out of my awesome little Oakland apt and moving in with da folks. Dad and I have been speaking further about building a little house in the back yard under the plum trees. We are looking at small house floor plans. I am pretty excited, given my enduring penchant for small-space living and smart eco-design. The contruction would start mid-summer.
Funny: DoubleEye and I were talking about what kind of car I should get next. I said maybe I should get a Subaru Forrester, so people know that I went to forestry school. He said that I should get a Subaru Outback, so people know I live out back of mom and dads house.
That's all for now...

Inspired? Me?

2007-05-01T08:00:00.000-07:00

This last weekend I presented at a conference in my old kollege town focusing on media and the environment. And despite my pronoucned cynicism, especially towards saccharine environmental issues, I was truly moved. I've been feeling floatey the last few days, unable to get too hung up on the leaking shower or work, as I feel like I am only on this planet a short time and I want to make it count. How about that.
When I was down in SB, I also saw my old homeless buddy, who per our routine, called me beautiful. I swear that's the only place where you actually look forward to seeing the homeless.

More finds from NY

2007-04-26T05:32:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I took a cab to the train station from DoubleEye's house. The cabbie was a large, talktative man who while, driving, told me he would never, ever fly in an airplane. When I asked why, he told me that if there was an accident and he was in a car, he would be safer because he wouldn't fall as far. I told him I had never thought of it that way.
A few found items from the trip to NY: The Koalaty Day Care (get it? get it?!?!?) and the NYC cafe which advertizes "Zen Cooking". And to think I haul myself to a Zen Buddhist meditation center on Sunday! I'll just start going out to eat there more.

Not too helpful

2007-04-24T19:42:00.000-07:00

DoubleEye hurt his back a few weeks ago, and it seems as tough it has persisted as a real injury. He went to the doctor, who gave a rather unsatisfying diagnosis of a strained muscle. I feel so helpless. He is in constant pain and I can't do anything. I can't imagine what mothers must feel when their children are sick, who are truly vulnerable.
I am getting excited about the marathon I drunkenly decided to run while un New Orleans a few weeks back. It's the Wineglass marathon in upstate New York, so it's somehow appropriate. Ridiculous how these clear and linear goals give our otherwise crazy lives clarity- but thank god for them.

New York New York

2007-04-24T08:35:00.000-07:00

First of all, I'd like to thank all of your for reading again after my highly inconsistent record as a blogger. I will refrain from blaming my inability to get my password from the blogger database (how do you like that simultaneous disclaimer and willingness to take ownership of my slack-assedness? I am awesome)
Anyhow, I think it makes the most sense to start with now, because I find that much more interesting than some rote recital of the past 6 months. Work is busy at the moment, so this will have to be in short, rejuvenating bursts, rather than the glorious travelogues I was once blessed with the time to write.
I am in New York with DoubleEye for the time being, as I have an group to moderate in NYC on Wednesday. We flew into JFK yesterday and rented a car to drove up here. The car rental place had a comment board, a photo of which I have posted because of it's utter notability. Let me quote- "Your warm welcoming smiles...contribute to the betterment of society", "Your car rental company gives me purpose in life" and (simply) "I love you". Granted, the service was stunning, but, uh, wow.
After working from home yesterday I made a simple dinner of chicken sausage, shitake and yellow peppers, and quinoa. I remember quinoa from my youth, and found a cult-like website proclaiming it's ability to cure cancer, make you more attractive to the opposite sex, etc. to remind me how to cook it. DoubleEye left it untouched on his plate until he had finished the more recognizable foodstuffs, divided it into 2 piles, then pulled out butter, salt, and honey. When I asked him what he was doing, he said that it reminded him either of grits or porridge, and so he would to treat it like each as an experiment. To his credit he finished the hippie meal, with grits being the more reasonable comparison.