with an eye

Compost pile

2012-01-07T16:51:00.009-06:00

When I first saw this apartment back in June, I saw the back yard area and I began dreaming grand dreams. In my mind there was a garden, with veggies and flowers, and a compost pile in the corner. I was eating salads that I grew myself, and all of the waste was being composted. Now, here we are January, and this is totally how the back yard looks....in my dreams.

I began clearing the "dirt patch" one day in September. I purchased supplies for a compost pile. And, after an hour

I took a break and never went back at it. Today is unseasonably warm, and my weekend plans involve a lot of cleaning and "re-organization" (or organization, since I never really did that to begin with.) I went through the fridge and was saddened by the amount of wasted food - lots of produce - and began to be very upset at my lack of composting. I began researching the old sites and resources I had found in June, and decided I wanted to go a different route than I had planned. I headed off to home depot to return some things (for a $17 store credit), and purchased something new (for $13 - don't worry, I more than

spent that extra $4 but we'll get to that!)

Here's what I need:

a 20-gallon trash bin, with lid
power drill (you could probably use a hammer and nail, but lets face it I'm lazy and have a drill)
"brown material" - this is the paper, I've got stacks of junk mail (not magazine like pages or anything plastic), light cardboard boxes (frozen pizza, soda, etc) and some newspaper.
"green materials" - this is my produce, I've got celery stalks, brussel sprouts, avocado peels, green onions, parsley, regular onions, and some small christmas tree branches. All cut up into unappetizing bite sized pieces.
fertilizer
soil
other ground clippings that I did save in a pile in the yard (and not bag up) from when I cleared the area in September
water

I began by drilling holes in the trash barrel, as this video clip instructed. I ended up with 40 holes - 10 around and 4 up. Then I started filling. According to this site the layering starts with an organic layer. This is the green and brown material. I decided to start with the pile of yard clippings I had outside. Hoping that maybe those has started slighting composting while they were in the pile outside since September. Then I put in a layer of the fertilizer I had, and then a layer of the potting soil I bought. The next organic layer contained all the veggies and paper I had collected. Everything I've read says to keep the compost wet, so after the first organic layer I "watered" it. Then I watered again after the fertilizer and soil layers.

Once it was all in the can, I put the lid on and rolled it over to the corner of the yard where it belongs. Hopefully the rolling was enough to give it a good mix.

And....with that, it's supposedly composting. Who knows. I read a lot over the summer, and nothing made it seem too difficult. Now I'm almost looking forward to the inevitable moment when I have some produce that's about to go bad.

Segue

2012-01-07T16:48:00.002-06:00

It's not that Baltimore is so unexciting that it didn't warrant any blog posts. Or that it's so exciting I haven't had time to write. I needed a break to regroup, recoop, and settle in, before I decided what I wanted to share.

Lots of things happened since I've been in Baltimore. But, as we rung in the new year last weekend I've decided to leave them in the past. So with this, we're moving on to bigger and better things. Step 1: Home Re-organization.

Stay tuned.

On orange

2011-08-05T23:35:00.003-05:00

It was my last week in Austin. Thursday. And I was at the gym. I was becoming very reflective, and savoring every last drop of Austin that I could. As I was running on my treadmill I noticed the amount of burnt orange around me. I remembered how this seemed horrible a short four years ago. I thought, with an almost sweet condescension, about how I would miss these people and their odd love for this color. I saw a girl with a shirt that proudly read "Come Early, Be Loud, Stay Late, Wear Orange", and I had a twinge of nostalgia - for this sentiment, for this color, for this team. But still, I viewed them all as sweetly silly, clinging to this color. It was around this time that I looked down and took note of my own outfit. Burnt orange shirt with a longhorn. Black shorts and a burnt orange boarder with a longhorn. Then I realized, I felt such nostalgia because I had become one of them without knowing. How quickly things change, how quickly the plethora of burnt orange went from odd to normal, as if it had always been.

And now, having been gone a short 6 days, I wish Baltimore had a "color", because I already miss the familiarity of burnt orange and belonging to something awesome.

On Texas

2011-07-27T13:58:00.002-05:00

Four years ago today I left Boston and headed for Austin, and clearly I was terrified! If only I could go back and tell that past-me how wonderful it would all turn out, maybe she'd have spent less time feeling scared and sad. If only some future-me could come and tell me the same things right now. In 3 days I'll drive off and leave Austin behind, heading on to the next chapter of my life. I never dreamed how difficult it would be to leave Texas. I mean, come on y'all, it's T-E-X-A-S.

Four years here have seen everything I was nervous about for Texas come true, in wonderfully awesome ways. I was originally skeptical of people who were unnecessarily friendly, of people who moved a little bit slower than lightening fast. I was nervous about the prevalence of big trucks and guns. I held a disdain for boots and belt buckles. I cringed at country music and southern twang. But it is these things that are going to be the most difficult to leave. In other places, people wearing boots and buckles are dressing up. People moving slow and smiling unnecessarily are trying to pull one over on you. But here, these are reflections of honest, hard working people. Southern twang is the background music for Austin's daily grind, where the outdoor adventures meet city life. Austin is a city that sees the ability and possibility in everything. Where people work hard, but stop early to enjoy an outdoor concert and a beer. Where a restaurant is not complete without a stage for the band. Roofdecks, patios, and sidewalk tables are overflowing with hipsters, hippies, suits, and dogs alike. We've got big skies, bright lights, and the ability to feel like a community over things as far fetched as running, roller-derby, football, or rodeo. There's something about Austin, a vibe that transcends specific places and people, and ties the whole city together. And while I'm not nearly ready to go, graduate school has taught me that life doesn't wait for you to be ready it carries on anyway. I hope that I've breathed in enough Austin-ness to bring it with me on my next adventure, because it's a world without this southern twang that I'm not sure I want to exist in.

I wish that some future-me could show up right now, and tell me how in a few months I'll feel just as at home in Baltimore as I do in Austin, as I always will in Boston. Because part of me thinks maybe I've been greedy with the "i'm living in the greatest city in the world" thing. If you haven't been, please add Austin to the list of cities you owe it to yourself to visit.

a lot can happen in one day...

2011-04-19T13:08:00.003-05:00

The countdown has begun, 4 days left until the day when...well, the day when I'm not sure what to do after it. What will I do when there is no dissertation to write, no looming deadlines, *gasp* an entire weekend where I may not need to be in my office? Truly, I'm not sure I remember how to handle a life like that.

For you to really get the full picture of this story, we need to go all the way back to December. Picture a day when I needed to be up north to run a scan at the imaging center in the early afternoon, and had tickets to see an early evening movie downtown. My scan was canceled at the last minute, after I was already up north, so I did a few errands and made my way home around 2:30pm. I wasn't in a particular rush, I wasn't stressed out, I was just enjoying a nice, sunny, December afternoon. I was heading west on MLK Dr, about to turn left onto my street. I waited for traffic to slow on the eastbound side, then all of a sudden, there was a motorcycle cop on the eastbound side who stopped before my street and waved me to turn. So I did. Because, when a cop tells you to turn, you do. Although, I was mighty confused as to why he stopped in the middle of the road, in the left hand lane, and made me turn across traffic. But I did it. As it turns out, he also turned and put his lights on. I live about 4 houses in from MLK, and so by the time I realized what was happening, I was pulled into my driveway. The motorcycle cop right behind me. What? Had he pulled me over? From the other side of the street? Going the opposite direction? on a motorcycle? In my driveway?! Turns out, he had. He says I was speeding, in a school zone. Which, I was in a school zone. He "clocked" me at 30 mph. The normal speed limit is 35, the school zone limit is 20. The school zone starts one street west of my own, so I had been in that school zone for all of 20 feet (ok, 302 feet according to google maps). In that span I came to a complete stop (to make my left hand turn) and the cop was equally as far away going the opposite direction. I'm unsure HOW this happened. But, I am not one to question authority, so I just sat there. In my own driveway, while he wrote a HEFTY ticket for going 10 miles over the speed limit IN A SCHOOL ZONE.

In TX, you can opt out of one ticket per year by taking a Defensive Drivers Training. You have to pay something like $130 to the court for this option, but then it won't get reported to insurance. The $130 was cheaper than the price of the ticket, and avoids all the increases in insurance premiums. So, I opted for that. In order to request this option you need to mail the court a copy of your insurance card, a copy of your license and a notarized form from the ticket. This all happened right before I was to leave for RI for Christmas, so the day before I left I decided to make copies, find a notary, and send this sucker off. As if it wasn't bad enough that I was given a speeding ticket in my driveway, this next bit was infuriating.

I headed off to school to make my photocopies, and find a notary. I started with the notary. There are supposedly 3 in the bulding next door to ours. Turns out, each office sent me to one of the other offices, because no one actually had a notary. Then finally one lady just recommended I go to a bank. Turns out, I'm wasn't at a bank, I was on the University of Texas campus, where there are supposedly 100+ notaries. But, she suggested I just try a bank. This ordeal had wasted about an hour, and it was lunch time, so I quickly made a copy of my license, my insurance card, and went off to meet a friend for lunch. After lunch I made a quick stop at the grocery store on my way to the bank. At the grocery store I needed to return some items (I know, I know, who returns things to the grocery store....) and they needed to see my license. My license. That I just photocopied. I couldn't find it ANYWHERE. Panic set in, because I was getting on a plane at 6 the next morning, and while I had a passport, that wouldn't do any good for all the driving I was planning to do on my visit home. I searched everywhere - my backpack, my car, my office, the copy machine, the place I ate lunch, the various offices without notaries. Nothing. Anywhere. In my search though, I did find an insurance card in my backpack that had the correct date on it, which made me wonder about the card I had photocopied and returned safely to my glovebox. Yes, expired. So here it is, I have been given a ticket in my driveway. I have a photocopy of a license that has been lost, a photocopy of an insurance card that is expired, and no notary. It's closing in on 2:30, and I have a flight in 18 hours. I'll save the goory details of having to go to two different DMVs, and stopping at a bank on the way because the DMV only takes cash - a bank that probably had a notary, but I was there without my things that needed notarizing. I'll also save you from the conversation I had with my mother who suggested I "be sure not to lose my passport too", as I didn't find her suggestion very humorous at the time. And I will conclude this portion of the tale by saying I received a new temporary license at 4:15pm, 15 minutes before the DMV closed, and my photo resembles a raging lunatic. Seriously.

At about 5pm, I returned home and began packing for Christmas. I was sure to bring my temporary license, a copy of my unexpired insurance card, the thing to be notarized, and the court address, and once in RI I would find a notary and mail this all out.

Turns out, the court was expecting a check in there too. Who knew? I thought I paid that fee when I enrolled in defensive driving. But, no. I returned from Christmas to a letter from the court. It contained everything I sent them, and indicated I was missing a check. I was to write them a check, and send everything back to them. So I did that. And they received it on January 24th. At which point the clock starts. Ninety-days.

Shortly thereafter, a little thing called my dissertation took over my brain. And I had forgotten all about this ticket. It was in the back of my mind, a looming "to-do" list item. But, certainly not dire. I had 90 days. An eternity.

Except January flew by, and February came and went, and then March started slipping away. I lost sight of the timeline of anything but my latest dissertation draft. When all of a sudden, another happy notice appeared. Reminding me of my need to take and pass Defensive Driving. Failure to do so by April 24th could result in a warrant for my arrest. (over a SPEEDING TICKET, where I was going THIRTY miles an hour IN MY DRIVEWAY!) I giggled at the date. They could issue a warrant for my arrest on April 25th, if they didn't receive things by the 24th. April 25th, the day of my dissertation defense. Coincidence?!

So, naturally, I waited some more before taking the course. Because that dissertation draft was due soon, and I just needed to get this one more thing done. Finally, one Friday I sat down to start the online course, and they promised I would receive my certificate of completion within 20 days of passing the course. TWENTY DAYS? I'd left myself little over two weeks to get it all in to the court. So I sat through 6 grueling hours of boring drivers tips, and passed the final exam with a score of 100%. Here they promised to send it in the mail the following business day, and promised it would arrive in 20 days. Now, I know the mail in Austin isn't that slow, so I hoped it would arrive in time.

It arrived, and with a sigh of relief I went through the last hoop - ordering a driving record from the DoT. Which, oh Christ, could take up to TWO WEEKS to be delivered. At about this point in this whole ordeal I became angry. Angry at that stupid cop, angry at the school zone, angry at my misplaced license, angry at my angry new license picture, angry at the fees, angry at the boring drivers course, angry at this stupid driving record. Never once though, was I angry at myself for putting it off so damn long.

I was able to print out an official driving record, and I had everything ready to go. Except that, it was now one week before the deadline of April 24th. and dropping this silently into the mail seemed...irresponsible. What if it got lost, what if I never knew it was delivered, what if they showed up the morning of my defense to take me away in handcuffs? Would they at least sit there and wait for me to finish, so I could get charged as Dr. Jennifer "speeds in school zones" Pacheco? Because, if I need a criminal record for speeding into my driveway, I sure as hell want Ph.D. to follow my name.

I waited patiently until the post office was opened, and I mailed it certified mail. Which left me with a receipt of post-mark, and would give me delivery confirmation. Confirmation which I got this morning, April 21st. I will not be hauled away in cuffs from my defense. But, really, I kinda cut that one a little close.

Sadly, I think the moral of this story is - learn to question authority. Also, when stopping at a traffic light stop far enough away from the car in front of you so that you can see their tires connecting with the ground. According to the defensive driver's training, this leaves you with adequate space to maneuver around them if you'd like to change lanes at the last second!

what to expect when you're dissertating

2011-04-01T09:37:00.006-05:00

I've had a few friends who have had babies, I've babysat for babies, I know enough about babies to know that most people really like this book. Now, I don't know if the What To Expect people have already written a book about dissertating, because frankly I didn't even consider googling that until this very moment. But, for the sake of this blog post, let's assume they haven't!

Someone should write the book What To Expect When You're Dissertating, because really, there are things I would have liked to have known. And, having never had a baby myself, there are things I suspect are very similar to being pregnant. Let's discuss.

The things I got used to months ago:

Dissertation brain - I have no ability to maintain a coherent thought outside of science. I frequently send a very similar email twice, sometimes three times, having forgotten I already sent it. I agree to things, and then instantly forget I've agreed to them (this is how I managed to be signed up for a road race I didn't really know about for a few weeks). It sounds just like bad memory, but as a memory expert I can say it's worse than that. Like the time I tried (several times in a row) to gain access to my car by flashing my school ID in the air near the door. Turns out, that move only really works at the building card-readers. Or that time that I drove a car full of prospective psychology students to my house instead of to their hotel. Luckily, they had no idea, being that none of them are from Austin!

Snackies - Frequently I miss lunch. Or dinner. It depends where and when I've become productive that day. And I find myself snacking, almost constantly, on ridiculously terrible snacks. Yesterday morning I think my breakfast was a poptart and a coke zero, and I think that's the healthiest I've been all week! I reached an all time low when I realized the fridge in my office had more food than my house, and I should stay here longer because I could eat a bagel for dinner rather than go home where I'd be forced to eat ice cream.

One Track Mind - When I do venture out and attempt participation in social events, everyone had better be ready to discuss one thing and one thing only. My dissertation. I am constantly updating people on the thing, how long it is, how many chapters are done, what the new title is, how many appendices it has at the moment, the latest comments I received on it, what my plan is for progress in the next day/week/month. I hear myself doing it, and I can't stop. There is nothing else in my mind to discuss, and I can't imagine that this isn't on the forefront of everyone's mind.

Here are the things I am still not used to:

Cleanliness, what's that?! - On a normal morning I do a few things regularly. I make my bed, I close my closet doors, and I generally make sure there aren't shoes and other crap strewn about my floor. I don't think my bed as been made in over a month. At the moment, in fact, I am sure that the comforter is balled up at the foot of the bed, and I'd be lucky if 2 of the 4 pillows were even at the head half of the bed. A purple rubbermaid bin of sweaters has been perched beside my bed for 5 weeks now, and I have a pile of dirty laundry exploding out of my closet so badly that I can't close the closet doors if I wanted to. But, that doesn't mean to indicate I've even tried doing so. I consider it a win when I get myself into the shower on an every-other-day schedule. And luckily, I don't have dishes to do because as I mentioned, I'm not really eating meals.

Holy Nightmares, Batman! - These have really done me in. I've had some doozies, and they range from terrifying: One involved me visiting my parents in Rhode Island, but we had to flee the state because people were lighting it on fire, and we were scurrying out past burning buildings, burning people, and lots of terrible devastation. To hilarious: One showcased a CEO of the Nike company who got very angry with a labmate of mine for enrolling him in a study that he didn't want to be in. I jumped in to help her out and he began yelling at me. At this point the very large angry CEO of Nike ripped my red external hard drive (with my dissertation data) from the computer, claiming the data now belonged to him. I've never been as strong or as mean as I was when I beat that guy to the ground to get my hard drive back! To absolutely insane: Last night all my friends that were in my dream were enormously obese. But, not like enormously obese versions of themselves. Just random, obese people. Everyone.

Sniffle, Sniffle - Is it cliche to say I'm more emotional? Perhaps. But it's not just that, it's not an overall emotionality, but rather completely irrational reactions to things. Sometimes, I'm just fine. But then sometimes, I might get stuck watching a show on lifetime about soldiers coming home to their families, and I might cry for an hour straight. I might cry so much that at the end of the hour I've got to change my t-shirt and towel off my stomach because it's covered in tears. maybe. There was also a time when I was watching Toddlers and Tiaras at 3 in the morning and listening to some wretched woman talk about entering her 2-year-old into a pageant because it was about time she learn how to be beautiful and a good wife. Normal people might react with rage towards that lady, I on the other hand found myself angry with my own mother for a moment. Why hadn't she taught me these things at the age of 2, because then maybe I wouldn't be lying awake at 3am watching toddlers and tiaras while stewing over my dissertation. Turns out, after a little sleep, I'm happy to not have been in pageants at the age of 2, Mom. So, thank you!

The good news is, one week from today that thing will be written and turned in. And I will probably forget about all the pain and suffering and whining and complaining I've done, as I look proudly down at my beautiful dissertation. All 124 pages of glory. Complete with 13 figures, 6 tables, and 4 Appendices. "Characterizing the age-related change of memory monitoring: Neuroimaging and genetic approaches" has never rolled off the tongue quite as sweetly as it will next week.

And after a (hopefully extensive) nap, I will be sending out a slew of Thank You cards, sent to all of you who have patiently listened to my endless whining, dramatic story telling, crying threats of quitting all together, and all the other ridiculous nonsense that has gone on. Really, I had no idea this would happen.

odds and answers

2010-08-24T22:38:00.003-05:00

There is a vending machine in the building that I work in. It has a few different soda options, but the ones I would choose are Diet Coke and Diet Dr Pepper. It's a known fact that sometimes when you select a Diet Dr Pepper the machine will accidentally dispense 2 cans. Better, sometimes it returns one extra quarter in change. It doesn't happen all the time, but it happens frequently. Enough so that it is obviously the only legitimate choice when buying a soda. At worst you spend 75 cents and get one can of Diet Dr Pepper. At best you spend 50 cents and get two cans of Diet Dr Pepper. An intermediate case you spend 75 cents and get two cans of Diet Dr Pepper. Just the possibility of either of these latter two occurrences makes it the clear choice.

Until three weeks ago. I put in my 75 cents, selected a Diet Dr Pepper and was given one can of regular Dr Pepper. To me, this is useless. I will not drink that can of soda. So I've lost 75 cents and gained nothing. I thought this was a fluke. It has happened a few times since then, although not every time - I have successfully gotten a Diet Dr Pepper once or twice.

So now, if you select a Diet Dr Pepper the odds have changed. At worst, you spend 75 cents and get two regular Dr Peppers (I have no reason to believe that this characteristic has been rectified). An intermediate is that you spend 75 cents and get only one regular Dr Pepper. But, at best, you could spend 50 cents and get two Diet Dr Peppers. The new options seem endless. You could also spend 50 cents and get one Diet Dr Pepper and one regular Dr Pepper. Or maybe you spend 75 cents and get one Diet Dr Pepper.

Alternatively, if you spend 75 cents and select Diet Coke. You will get one Diet Coke. No better. No worse.

The conundrum now is - which is the best selection? Diet Coke, where you know what you spend and what you get, or Diet Dr Pepper. The worst case is pretty bad, but the best case is pretty good. And some of the intermediates break out even. I stood there one day, trying to work out my odds, and the cost/benefit ratios and what my actual best choice would be. I promptly returned to my office, filled a glass with water from the bubbler and decided that I should put forth this much careful thought towards my dissertation project. May 2011 is rapidly approaching.

toothpaste obsession

2010-08-24T22:29:00.000-05:00

I tend to like things that are logical and efficient. I tend to be a little OCD about things. These are traits that, I'm assured, are what make me an ideal PhD candidate. Apparently people with these desires are the types of people to subject themselves to a lifestyle like the one I'm in right now. And it's probably true. I see these things becoming more...problematic. Some of them are beneficial. I think my mom would be proud to hear that I make my bed completely every single morning. It is, in fact, the first thing I do before even leaving my room to go to the bathroom in the morning.

Sometimes, it's just a little strange. I've developed what I consider the "right way" to do things, because at some point it seemed more effective than some alternative. Currently, when I open a can of cat food I have a particular method. I use a fork or spoon and cut the mound of food in half (because Mia gets half a can), and I put half in her bowl. I use the spoon (or fork) to 'mix-up' the food, to make it not shaped like a can, combine in some of the gravy and juices, and make it look more appetizing. I then use the spoon to do the same thing with the half left in the can before I cover it and put it in the fridge. My logic is that it is easier to accurately divide the food in half before it is all mixed up, but that Mia will enjoy it more mixed, and that it will survive one day in the fridge better all mixed up. I watched my roommate feed her once, and neither her half nor the fridge half was mixed. Clearly, Mia lived to tell the story about it. But, I didn't quite make it - as I definitely went immediately to the fridge and mixed up the half that was left in the can.

Which brings me to toothpaste.

I squeeze my toothpaste from the bottom, to the top. I don't know when this started, but I do it.

And I don't think about it. It's just the right way. If you squeeze from the middle it sends toothpaste to the back and corners of the tube. This means you may have difficulty getting every last drop of toothpaste from the tube. Also, if you are going to try and get every last drop, you're going to waste a lot of time re-squeezing the tube from the bottom anyway. So why not just do it right the first time? I mean, right? This makes perfect sense to me. So much so, I'm more than willing to say this is the correct way to do it. I don't care whether your toilet paper comes over the top or under the bottom of the roll - but, the toothpaste, squeeze that from the bottom everytime.

In December I realized that this obsession is further reaching than I originally realized. I was home for Christmas and I spent some time visiting a few friends, in total I stayed over at 3 different friends' houses. In each house, I had my own tube of small travel toothpaste (also properly squeezed), and was not borrowing anyone's toothpaste - but I found myself seeing squeezed-from-the-middle tubes of toothpaste in my friends' bathrooms, picking them up, and squeezing them properly from the end of the tube. Leaving behind a clean, organized, efficient tube of toothpaste.

Last week, one of my roommates had a friend in town visiting. One morning I opened the bathroom cabinet to grab my toothpaste. And here's what I found:

Clearly, someone has been using my toothpaste. Annoyance consumed me. I wasn't annoyed that someone used my toothpaste, without asking at that, I was annoyed that someone squeezed it from the middle - clearly the less efficient way. I was more annoyed that someone used my tube of toothpaste in a manner that clearly went against the way I used it. So, I spent some time properly re-squeezing it. The next morning, same thing. I was so frustrated - if I hadn't caught this error, precious drops of toothpaste could be lost, and precious time wasted re-squeezing unnecessarily.

It struck me, perhaps my Boston friends have some desire to improperly squeeze their toothpaste. Perhaps they have a reason to squeeze from the middle. Perhaps I was in the wrong by trying to re-squeeze their toothpaste. Perhaps I ruined someone's morning when they reached up and found their messily middle-squeezed toothpaste ruined with an orderly end-squeeze. For this, my dear friends, I apologize. I apologize for trying to impose my squeezing technique on your tubes. But, come on, it's clearly the right way to do it. For the toothpastes sake!

fortunate

2010-07-29T22:37:00.008-05:00

Most of my most avid readers (all....3 of you?) already know the main events of the past few days. But, it's time that the full story be released. The ending is a happy one, but the 2 days leading up to it were some of the worst I've experienced in a long time.

Our story starts on Sunday morning. Well, in fact, I guess the story starts nearly nine years ago in October of 2001, when I first met a certain teeny tiny kitty. These past few days I've become really aware of everything that the two of us have been through. It's fun to count the states, schools, apartments, roommates we've shared. But more importantly are the life events. She's been with me through my graduation from college, when I was scared to enter the "real world" (little did Iknow that 8 years later and I'd still have never entered it!). She was there when my college boyfriend and I broke up and I didn't leave the house for 2 weeks. She was there when I started working in Boston and hated it. She was there when I fell in love with working in Boston. She was there when I tearfully packed up my life and moved to Texas for graduate school. She was there through Bentley, and Princess. She was there when my grandmother died. She was always there. For nine years, perhaps my most consistent friend has been Mia.

Her Escape
Sunday morning I woke up late. My first thought was, "wow Mia, thank you!" because normally she's whining for breakfast much earlier than that. When I emerged from my room I noticed that RO'D's bedroom door was slightly ajar, but it's normally been closed since he's gone this month. I went in there to scold Mia - she loves being in his room, but also loves hacking up hairballs in there. Needless to say RO'D is less than a fan of the latter. When I went in, I saw that the back door to the outside was wide open. Panic set in instantly, but I didn't know why right away. Where was Mia? Did someone break in? Was someone still in Ryan's room? Without thinking I took off into the back yard, hoping to see Mia, if she was there. With no immediate sign of her, I went back in to ask C-dogg when she last went out there (and to assess the possibility of a stranger having been or still being in our house). Saturday afternoon was her answer. We were on the move - searched the house for Mia, and then hit the outdoors. We roamed through the yard, and took of in opposite directions around the neighborhood. It was on my second lap, when I started to think about the last time I saw Mia (Saturday night around 8pm) panic really set in. Panic, but not logic. I had no idea what to do.

Our Search
Back inside, we made the dining room table our operation central. After a quick facebook post - mostly asking for advice on what to do - I googled "what to do when you lose your cat", and read a few things. C-dogg and I headed out again, this time with proper shoes, contacts in, and other under garment necessities. Still, nothing. Back to operations central, I was faced with the task of making a flyer. This nearly killed me - describing Mia to make signs to post about her being gone.

In retrospect, these first searches were crap. We barely looked anywhere - we just walked. I roamed. I was so unsure of what to do. After a small break, to get myself together, we had a plan. We posted the flyers directly on the doors of surrounding houses. Then we hit nearby hot spots - major intersections, bus stops, coffee shops and churches. Further internet reading let me know that we really needed to scour every hiding spot, as Mia was likely hiding scared and would not answer our calls. This is when I realized, our neighborhood is a cat HEAVEN. Every yard has a shed, with space under it. Every foundation has a hole to under the house. Every backyard is a veritable old car grave yard. Perfect for your freaked out kitty - horrid for her freaked out owner.

That afternoon, we checked under sheds, in bushes, under cars, through fences, and under houses. Then I called animal control. They told me which animal shelter stray cats are directed to, and I went down there to talk to them. It was about this time that the skies opened up for the first time - pouring rain, thunder and lightning. At first I was sad for Mia, how scary. But shortly there after I was very glad for the rain. It meant she was getting water - which was a big concern to me. Sunday was hot. I got a pretty painful sunburn from 4 hours of searching for Mia.

The internets also told us to surround the house with her scent, and with our scent, to entice her back. We put one of her blankets and a toy on the back porch, along with a bowl of food. We put her litter box and another bowl of food on the front porch. We then hung up some of my dirty smelly unwashed running clothes at both the back and front of the house. So yes, our house smelled great!!

After dark, we went out on another Mia search, armed with flashlights. Everyone told me she'd be likely to come out at night - and the flashlights could catch her eyes. On this, and subsequent searches, we located every stray in the neighborhood - something like 11 different cats were found. 11 non-Mia cats. Sunday night I was beside myself. What if she never came back? Where was she? Was she hurt? Was she nearby? How would she find us? We decided to leave the back door ajar, and I slept in RO'D's room. Just in case. Sleep is a loose term - there wasn't much of it. As cliche as it sounds, everytime I closed my eyes I saw her. And I'd get up and look out the back door. How was I supposed to sleep with Mia out there somewhere? It was the worst.
Monday morning, C-Dogg and I did a morning hunt. This time I wore what would become my Mia-Huntin' Outfit. Black and white baseball socks pulled up to my knees, a pirate bandana, carrying a towel and a flashlight. The towel allowed us to lay down on the ground and really get under everything. We went around back, through neighboring yards, and around the block. Searching as best we could every hiding spot. During one search a friend and I carried chairs around, this allowed me to easily hop over every fence in the neighborhood. We'd drop one chair over the fence, and I could leap from chair to chair. These searches took about 40 minutes for each loop, and I was going about 4 times a day. In between I was trying to hold it together, but would lose it for about 2 hours after each search. Where was she? Was she alive? Was she hurt? Was she scared? Was she close? Could she see me?

Her Return

Monday evening had me feeling pretty hopeless. I was happy for everyone's concern and help, but if one more person asked me "are you sure she is not in the house?" I was seriously going to lose it. I appreciate the helplessness most of my friends felt, but yes - 2 days later and I was sure she was not in the house.

I sat in the living room Monday night, doing work, watching tv, until about 11pm. At that point I headed back into RO'Ds room. I went back out into the living room to grab my computer power cord, which is when it happened. The motion sensor light on the porch turned on. It ALWAYS turns on. Every car that drives down the street turns it on. But, there was no car. It was like a spot light on a dark fluffy tail. A dark fluffy tail that was very close to Mia's litter box. Again, cliche, I know, I just KNEW it was her, and I was overcome with such excitement that I threw open the door and gasped, MIA? And whatever it was, was gone. Off faster than a bolt of lightning, into the darkness. I ran to RO'Ds to get my flashlight (yes, I was sleeping with my flashlight), and ran back out the frontdoor. This commotion had C-dogg up, and we were both out looking and calling for Mia. Here's where I lost it. I just began crying so hard. I wasn't even sure if it was her, but it felt like her. And here I had scared her away. I'm such an IDIOT. C-dogg had a different perspective. It was likely her - the strays do not come on our porch, nor would they go near her litter box. Which meant, she was close, and wanting to come back. She assured me she would be back and we should wait some more.

It was now that I assumed my "father of a teenage daughter" position. I opened the front door, I turned off every light, and I turned the chair around to face the front door and window. And I sat there. Starring out the window, clutching my flashlight.

It's then that I heard the most horrendous cat fight I'd ever heard. Screw you strays, do not even think about touching my Mia. I was out the door and running down the street, 11:30pm, barefoot, with a flashlight. About 5 houses down I found the cats making the noise. Two cats, up a tree in someones front yard, fighting. Neither of them Mia. Damnit. I took off running home, as I had left my post and was sure to have missed her.

Back in my chair, I waited. And then. There she was. I saw all of her, in the light of the porch, she was there. I was slow, I was quiet. I made my way to the door encouraging her "Mia, come in Mia". By the time I'd made it to the door to look out on the porch, she was gone! And, of course, I hadn't seen where she'd gone. I bust into C-Dogg's room screaming "SHE'S NOT DEAD!" And I cried all over again. This was it, she was close. We looked again, but dang if Mia is not a persistent hider. C-dogg suggested that we try to wait again, and the next time she was on the porch I should text message C-dogg, who would go out the back door and come around front. I was to watch Mia.

Come on Mia, what do you want, a signed invitation, GET INSIDE THIS HOUSE!

So I sat, my finger on the "send" button with a text to C-dogg. When I hear C-dogg herself saying "she's at the back door". The wha? She's...huh...the back door? I go into RO'Ds room, and the back door is wide open, and C-dogg is about 7 feet from it saying "Mia, come home Mia" and I'm thinking, is it her? Is she there? Is C-dogg just being hopeful? But I get the sense that something very important is happening. So, I crawl around the corner of RO'Ds bed, and I see her. She's in the doorway. She's moving slowly, looking all around. So now I start too, "Mia, come here Mia!" but, quiet. And gentle. and slow. She's inching in, and I'm using every ounce of my concentration to not move towards her. She clears the door, but isn't close enough to grab yet. C-dogg reaches over the bed and slowly, quietly shuts the door behind Mia.

WHOA-MAMA, this sets Mia off. She's off on a full sprint, out of RO'Ds room, down the hallway, headed straight for the....

OPEN FRONT DOOR.

I'm consumed with two thoughts: 1.) do not freak her out. 2.) do not let her out of the house. Thankfully the second one wins, as I take off after her, scream MIA!!! NO!!! Leap over her, and body slam the door shut.

Mia flattens herself against the ground and hisses at me. At this point, C-dogg and I collapse onto the ground, and I cry my eyes out again. We instantly got her food, but she brushed past it, walking through the house, rubbing up on everything, and finding every plastic bag she could to lick. The we both sat in the middle of the house, mostly unable to let her out of our sight. She seemed dirty, but healthy.

She and I slept

in my bed that night, and I've never been more happy. A quick trip to the vet in the morning confirmed that she is a-ok, and then the groomer made her clean - and furless. She was covered in so many burrs and twigs that it was just better to shave her fur all off.

Since then, she'll stare out at

the back yard - now called AdventureLand - and I ask her, "where were you Mia?" But she still hasn't told me.

oh, and now, she wears a collar.

thirty down

2010-07-01T09:18:00.001-05:00

Thirty years ago today my mom woke up, looked at her very pregnant belly and told me that if I wasn't going to come out today I could just stay there forever. Afterall, I was already 2 weeks late, it was a heat wave, and she was pretty much done with being pregnant. And I could tell she was serious. A few short hours later, I was born - and the world was never the same!

It seems that not everyone has the same feeling of pure joy over birthdays that I do. But, birthdays are among my favorite things. My birthday, your birthday, anyone's birthday! I love celebrating them, I love making them important. Perhaps it's because my parents spent a lifetime of making me feel like my birthday was such an important day.

I've had a series of fabulous birthdays. I remember my 4th birthday, the Inside Out Backwards birthday, where all my friends had to wear their clothes inside out and backwards. Kermit the Frog was at that birthday too. I remember one year when my mom made a barbie birthday cake for me, where the skirt was the cake, and the doll body and head was stuck into the top. I remember my 10th birthday, celebrated on our boat in Watch Hill, RI. I was very excited to be turning a double-digit age. And I remember they bought and wrapped TEN presents. I also remember thinking, man one day I'll CLEAN UP! You know, like when I turn 17. SEVENTEEN PRESENTS! Sadly, wee Jenni, it doesn't always go that way. I also remember a different boat birthday when mom made a cake that had chocolate chip icing and was maybe decorated with twizzlers. I think in the past I've made mention of this cake, and there has been some contention about whether it existed. I remember it though, in the harbor of Oak Bluffs, Martha's Vineyard.

Then there was my 18th birthday, where they pulled off the one and only surprise party I've ever had. And, I almost ruined that one - remember, Mom? I was so angry that Andrew wasn't answering the phone and was going to ditch me for birthday dessert that I refused to waste more time to use the bathroom at Memere's. So when we arrived back home and Andrew and all my other friends were hiding in the kitchen to jump out at me I had to run immediately to the bathroom to pee!

I kept the traditions going with a 25th birthday trip to Martha's Vineyard for the day, and a 24th birthday in NYC with tickets to a Red Sox/Yankees game. Not just any game either, the one where Nomar threw a fit and wouldn't play, Pedro was pitching, and Jeter dove into the stands after a foul ball and busted his face.

And, 30 is no different. Sure, there were small moments of "OH MY GOD, what am I doing with my life?" but those passed quickly. In reality, I'm a very lucky and fortunate girl. The first 30 years of my life have been full of unconditional love, unfaltering support, and faultless guidance from two of the best parents I've ever met. And while I suppose I can no longer blame them for any of my problems, as at 30 my life is certainly my own to mess up and has been for a while - I think we all know that they are there behind all of my successes, cheering me on, leading by example. Thank you, Mom and Dad, for always making me feel like I was something important! I'm excited to see what I can manage to do with the next 30 years!

For M, From M

2010-06-21T10:25:00.007-05:00

Mia wants to send a very special message to one Maija Hevelone. Happiest of birthdays Maija, hope you did something special!

Good Kitteh

2010-06-17T13:17:00.003-05:00

Last we left Mia, she was struggling through some bad behavior. She had peed twice outside the litter box. My yelling seemed to do the trick, as she made it to the litter box the next time. However, even after her return to the litter box, she managed to poo NOT IN THE LITTER BOX. Oh man, I was angry. I again treated her like a dog. There was a lot of yelling, and face smushing in (near...near! I'm not going to clean poop off my cat) the poop, and repeated times of putting her on the litter box. She'd also lost all bedroom privileges at that point. Bedroom privileges are like gold to her - it cuts out most of her window sills, and any view of the back yard, which is by far the most interesting yard too look at. It also cuts out her direct sunbeams for much of the day.

It seemed that this worked, since she resumed peeing in the litter box. She peed 4 times in fact. Four times, and not one poo, anywhere. In order to entice her into the bathroom I sprinkled some catnip into the litter box. I was nervous. This was going to be the game-decider. If she used the litter box, we were still on. If she didn't - I was calling it quits.

Last night, she decided to get back in line, and she used the bathroom appropriately. She was lavished with treats and praise. And we continue to practice Stage 1, hoping someday soon to move up in the world of Kitty Potty Training.

Bad Kitteh

2010-06-14T08:03:00.002-05:00

Yesterday marked Day 8. The end of the week was similar to the beginning. She'd use the litter box in the early morning, things seemed ok. I was debating staying at stage 1 for another week, just so she could get used to it a bit better. But then, yesterday happened. It was monster cleaning day in our house, which always makes her a little skittish. She doesn't love when I'm in one room moving all the furniture around, so she travels through the house staying either ahead or behind me. She also hates the vacuum. When it was time to clean the bedroom she had been laying on this bag on my floor. She got up to run to another room, and there it was. She'd peed right on the bag. MIA! I was mad, so I treated her like a dog. I picked her up and yelled at her, I put her face in (ok, NEAR) the pee, and then I brought her right to her litter box.

This morning, much like every morning, she's been whining. I sat with her, I petted her, I played with her, I talked to her. And how does she repay me?! She peed ON MY BED! My bed! Again, I scolded her. And then I immediately put my sheets in the washing machine. I quickly grabbed some baking soda and piled it on my mattress and began searching the internet for some cleaning tips. Wouldn't you know, baking soda is the first in most lists.

Now, I'm unsure of how to proceed. I'm supposed to be patient, right?! I'm supposed to give her a chance, right?! We'll see what the rest of this week brings. But two accidents in two days - this is not very Mia-like.

Kitteh Potty Training - Stage 1

2010-06-09T13:35:00.006-05:00

*Updated Daily

We opened up the CitiKitty and began our training on Sunday and not Friday. It seemed that Friday ended up not being the best night, and I was going to be gone all day on Saturday, that Sunday really worked ideally for our schedule.

Stage 1 is to put the full liner into the toilet seat, full with litter, and let Mia get used to climbing up to the toilet to go. She can stand in the liner, it'll flex a little, but will support her. The flexing will encourage her to use the seat for balance. We are supposed to stay at this stage for a full accident free week, but I may modify this and stay at this stage until she's back to a somewhat regular usage. I fear that she may only go 3 times in this first week, and I'm not sure that's exactly enough to graduate to stage 2.

I know everyone has been reminding me that we need lots of pictures, but I haven't yet actually caught her in the act. When I do, there will be pictures for sure. For now, all I can do is take pictures of the empty (or full, if you really want that) litter box. And we wait!

Day 1 (Sunday): I was much more excited than she was as I filled the emptied the old litter box and put it away. I got out the CitiKitty, and placed in under the toilet seat. After filling it with litter, I quickly grabbed Mia and put her on it. You know, to show her. She leaped off pretty quickly. She spent the rest of the day not going anywhere near the bathroom. I decided, that was fine for day 1.

Day 2 (Monday): Ugh, this morning Mia was WHINING. I mean, more than her normal whining. She was just roaming around the house whining. It was about 6am, so I moved from my bed out to the couch (because she seemed to prefer the living room) and I slept there for a bit to keep her company. I woke up on the couch at 7:30, and when I passed by the bathroom I realized that she had used the litter box. Yay for cat pee! I cleaned it out, and I showered her with treats - in the bathroom of course. And I felt proud of my talented kitty.

When I returned home Monday evening, I was even more proud to find some cat poo in the toilet litter box as well! Nicely done, Mia, nicely done. We celebrated with more bathroom treats.

Day 3 (Tuesday): Again, with the whining in the morning. I can be tolerant of this for a bit, because I've just totally rearranged her life, but she'll have to get used to it at some point. When I woke up, there was nothing in the litter box. I kept checking back frequently, and one time I went into the bathroom she was there - and bolted out. I noticed that she hadn't gone yet and began to feel guilty that I had interrupted. The guilt subsided as soon as I saw the wet spot on the bathroom rug. MIA! You peed on the rug?! I scolded her appropriately - which included yelling at her and putting her near her pee spot. And then I put her in her litter box. She was displeased, and I was off to do some laundry.

So, I guess we call that accident #1. Really, I'm pleased she picked the bathroom to have her accident in. I've been wondering if we'll need to search the whole house looking for these presents. I did not return the bath rug to the bathroom, hoping that with no soft surface to use, she will get back up on her litter box. When I returned home, nothing. I went out that night, and when I got back much later, still nothing.

Day 4 (Wednesday): I woke up to a normal amount of whining, which just means "feed me", and decided to go check the bathroom situation at that point. Boy am I glad I did. She had used it - twice. And, as a good roommate, it needed to be cleaned immediately (so that the roommate wouldn't have to deal with this when she woke up to go to the bathroom). We again celebrated with bathroom treats, and I cleaned out the litter. We'll see what's waiting for me when I get home.

Day 5 (Thursday): My goodness, the whining. It's non-stop. I couldn't handle it so I went out to investigate around 6:15. She hadn't used the litter box since Wednesday morning. So, I joined her on the couch. When she's whiny like that, she really has no desire to come in to my room, and she seems quieter if I'm around. I had been on the couch for maybe 20 minutes when I heard a small scrambling in the bathroom - nothing major, but some litter being kicked around. I rushed in, and sure enough, she'd peed. She was being un-whiny, so I went back to bed. I think I heard her in there again, so I got up to check, and sure enough, she'd done the deed.

I set out to clean the litter. Now, there is one thing I haven't been honest about - and that's her aim. It's not great. She's gotten poo both on the floor and on the toilet seat just about each time. So the litter cleaning routine goes something like - grab the paper towels, a sponge and lysol. Scoop poop and pee-litter into a small plastic bag, replace with some new litter. Disinfect the floor, and the toilet seat, and the sink. Throw the plastic bag and paper towels in the dumpster outside. This morning when I stepped out to throw the bag away, Mia poked her head out on the porch. I saw her looking around and wondered if she was thinking "Hey, there doesn't seem to be a litter box perched inside a toilet out here, maybe I should make a break for it."

The aim, I expect, will get better. I've not yet SEEN her use the toilet, so I don't know how she stands on it, but as we remove rings from the inside, she'll be forced more to the outside. I think she'll get the hang of it. We're just in day 5, so I'm going to stick with it. I think she's doing great - but I know she's not loving it. Hopefully, in a few more days, she'll forget about the time she didn't have to jump up on the potty to go!

everybody poops

2010-06-03T08:42:00.002-05:00

And cats too! The thing is, with a cat, you've gotta do something about it. I'm getting tired of the litter box cycle. The constant scooping, and changing. The litter that gets out of the box, the smell (although, I seem to be immune to it my roommate seems to think it's unpleasant). Mia has always been a gem about the litter box - in the whole 8.5 years I've had her she's only not used the litter box twice. Once when she was 11 weeks old, and I moved it to a new location and forgot to show her where. She ended up peeing on the floor where the litter box used to be. (Sorry baby, you tried so hard!) The other time was when we were in DC, so she was about 1 and a half, and she was accidentally locked in my roommates room while we were all out for the night. Oops. Again, my fault.

I've had conversations with fellow cat owners whose kittehs are pretty demanding over everything litter-box related. Some people have to scoop daily (or twice daily). Some people have to clean the thing completely once a week. Some people can not just up and change the type of litter without a protest. Others have to fear the vengeance of their bad kittehs, who will purposefully not use the litter box in protest of some other travesty. Not Miss Mia, she goes in that box no matter how full it is, how long since it's been cleaned completely, whether I've been home for 5 days straight or gone for a week. I can use a different type of litter everyday and she wouldn't care. I could move the litter box to a new location every hour and she'd find it and go. I'm lucky. We're lucky!

I'm about to push our luck. I've been thinking for a while how great it would be if Mia could use the toilet. No more smelly box, no more dirty litter. No more scooping, no more changing. Mia gets a bad rep as a mean cat - sometimes it prevents people from wanting to come take care of her. She's not mean, she's a big ol' fraidy cat - who has learned to hiss and swat to protect herself. That, and she's a touch moody! But, how wonderful would it be to cat sit a cat who doesn't need a litter box?!

It arrived yesterday, our toilet training kit. I've read through the directions. Basically you are at each step until you can make it through one week accident-free. In preparation, today I moved the litter box back in to the bathroom. Tomorrow night, I will set up the contraption. It's basically a pan that sits under the seat, and gets filled with some litter (and catnip if needed!). Roommate is out of town from Saturday to Tuesday, so this gives us a few days to experiment, and determine the extent of the "accidents". If she can master the litter pan on the toilet, then we start removing small pieces from the center - creating larger and larger openings. This will teach her to use the toilet seat to stand on.

My predictions. If this doesn't work, it will be because she refuses to go to the bathroom at all. Also, I'm setting the over-under at 6 for the number of times we forget to remove the litter pan before peeing in the middle of the night. Place your bets.

The great headphone debate

2010-06-02T15:25:00.003-05:00

It seems like I go through headphones faster than anything else. I haven't quite figured out what the problem is. One pair broke so that when I was running and it was windy the volume would oscillate with my stride, and the volume control didn't work to combat the problem. Eventually, the started doing that when it wasn't windy. The next pair broke pretty quickly, the wires frayed inside, or something, but the sound started getting crackly and then stopped working all together. I've had sets that just don't fit - they start to slide out when I get the tiniest bit sweaty. I've tried the over the ear ones, but those are even worse - it's really got to be earbuds for me. And then, we've got the problem with the cord. I like to run the cord down the back of my shirt, and directly into the pouch where the iPod lives. Sometimes if the cords are too short (or too long) they get all tangled around my running belt. Currently, I'm limping along with one pair - they fit ok, because they've got these foam covers around the earbuds that seem to keep them in place, no matter how much sweat. Unfortunately, those foam covers come off very easily. I've lost them about17 times, somehow I always manage to find it - sometimes days or weeks later. Without the foam, they don't fit or stay in at all. I've seen some posts for wireless headphones, that are bluetooth enabled, those seem sweet. But, perhaps impractical. At some point, I may decide to replace my lost iPod shuffle and bluetooth headphones would be useless.

During Ragnar there was a discussion as to whether headphones were allowed or not. Most official marathons have taken to banning headphones, mostly because they could be dangerous if you can't hear what's going on around you. It's a rule I understand, but not one I love. I live for the music on my runs, and I'm not sure I'd enjoy it as much without the soundtrack going on in my ears. That said, some recent posts to the Ragnar facebook page indicate that, for Ragnar at least, these guys ARE acceptable. It's funny, when we started Ragnar, I wasn't wearing my headphones (there had been a headphone debacle, and I thought I forgot mine so a teammate lent me a pair. The pair I was using were the big over your ear ones, which I never did figure out how to wear, but before starting I had them just clipped to my tank top straps. Many people made comments about the "speakers", but I never really understand so I ignored them. I guess they thought I had a set of these already.) I wonder how these actually work. Will they aggravate everyone around you, or are they really "personal" speakers? However, they may be the answer to headphone bans!

Ragnar was a Norse god.

2010-05-21T06:04:00.010-05:00

Today's the day - some friends and I have been preparing (mentally, emotionally, and physically) for the craziest of races. It's a 12-person team, running 191.3 miles from New Haven, CT to Foxboro, MA. We run straight through the night, straight through the states, on to the end. This will be my attempt to bring you through it with us!

3:45am - alarm goes off, I clocked a total of 2 hours of sleep, thanks to ongoing panic in my head!

5:15am - van 1 has all it's passengers and is headed to new haven.

7:38am - van 1 arrives in new haven to meet our other van and head to the start line.

8:20am - one of the main things that kept me awake all night was this vision of our team showing up at the start line and being unable to check in. At this point, we're registered and have gone through our safety training, and we're waiting for our start time.

8:53am - holy crap, I'm super scared.

8:55am - Super. Scared.

Sometime later - Live blogging this thing is not going to work at all. Stay tuned for a thrilling recap.

It's now Thursday, a week after the Ragnar insanity started, and I wonder if I've still got some residual adrenaline coursing through my veins. This last week has been killer, physically and emotionally, and is truly something I will never forget.

We arrived at the start line a wee-bit frazzled (ok, maybe I was the only frazzled one) I had been up the entire night before with visions of our team being unable to start - maybe we showed up late, maybe we forgot to register, maybe we didn't have all the things we needed to have, maybe our vans broke down, whatever it was, I was positive we'd have trouble. And as one of two coordinators, it would be my fault. This was all for naught. We checked in, underwent safety training, and then had about 20 minutes to kick around the start line extravaganza before we start. START. Oh my gosh, did I get nervous. I love the starts of races, they are probably what keep me going back for more - it's so exciting. This one seemed just terrifying. After much hoopla, I was off. It was probably about 6 minutes later that I realized I was running. It was terribly hot, much hotter than I expected. I was also having some technical difficulties - problems with headphones, sunglasses, my running belt. Nothing felt right. Nothing was the way it normally is when I run. I can't quite place it, but being that I'm something of a mental-case, I think my head just wasn't in it yet. After about 12 minutes of running I'd managed to separate myself from the pack (read: I was at the end!). I pushed through, but mentally I felt defeated. What's worse, this was the teams first of thirty-six legs, and the first of my 3. I was supposed to feel the best during this one. I was supposed to turn it on, start us off well. My initial 3.8 mile leg felt horrendous. When I finally arrived at the exchange point I felt embarrassed. I was ashamed to see my team, wondering if they were ready to ask me to leave and replace me with whatever rando they could find along the course. I couldn't have been more wrong - the 6 other people in my van could not have been more supportive and enthusiastic. They were waiting for me with cheers and shouts and excitement. They had water for me, and had decorated the van while I was running. They were amazing. Their enthusiasm carried on through the next 5 legs, while each runner battled the grueling hot sun, and we drank more water and G2 than I thought possible.

We had some time to kill while van 2 started their runs, so we set off to find some food. This proved much more difficult than anyone thought, and by the time we'd found something acceptable everyone was pretty much done with being inside the van. We headed to the next major exchange to relax for a bit. There was a large grassy area along side a river, and we (attempted) to sleep there. I think everyone else got a little rest, but I was again restless. Being the first runner in the van proved stressful. I had to rely on the other van getting me the message that I should prepare to start - and I was nervous about that. I know in our van I was never really focused on the other van and when they might need to start. I couldn't have blamed van 2 if I wasn't foremost in their thoughts. Between this, and my second leg being the most difficult of my set (questionably, the entire race...I mean, right?!), I spent a lot of time trying to get my head in the game. I think it worked. This leg was pretty awesome. I'm not sure whether it was the bridge where I almost lost my life 3 times, the wonderful people seated at an outside restaurant who cheered me along, the video camera I had strapped to my head, or the insanity of some major (MAJOR) hills! This run was thrilling - if not difficult. Everyone that I met (who passed me) along the way was very encouraging, and generally stopped to chat for a bit. At the very end, when I was unsure if I could keep running, I met a friend. She and I ran together for a bit. But, I was slowing her down. I hurried her on her way, and promised I'd be right behind her. I was...behind...her. When I was in sight of the exchange, I decided I had some gas left. So I turned it on. I sprinted my way through the exchange, and enjoyed the cheers of everyone who was milling around there. Once I regained my sight, I spent the few minutes we could chatting with my dad - who was a wonderful volunteer at exchange 13. And then, we were off - to find Lisa's half way point.

Our van was running a bit behind our projected schedule, and after Lisa the rest of the van ran through the dark - honestly, I felt a bit jealous because I was rather looking forward to a run through the darkness. I love the early morning summer runs we make where we start off in the dark. Things just seem more awesome. We stopped just past midnight, and were able to pull off into a high school parking lot for the evening. The 7 of us simply slept in the van, amidst other vans full of people. Once again, though, I found it near impossible to sleep. I was restful, if we can call it that - I lay there with my eyes closed, but could not drift off. I quit trying to sleep somewhere around 4am, and made more space for the teammates who were actually able to sleep. I quietly began getting myself dressed and ready to go - and then I got the text from Van 2, their last runner had started. I was ready for the last run, my legs felt ok, but I was nervous for the distance. Seven-and-a-half miles could get old pretty quickly. As I got ready I told our trusty driver to come meet me at the 2.5 mile mark, just to see how I was doing. I was up and out of the van before most people had woken up, and headed up to the exchange to wait. On the way there panic set in, I hadn't even GLANCED at the map for this leg. I had no idea, were there 17 turns, was it straight, was I going to get lost? In panic mode I stopped at another van who had an open window and asked to see their map - a quick peek and it seemed ok, but I was still rather nervous. When I saw John coming in down the driveway though, the good old adrenaline kicked in, and I was ready. A few minutes in and I realized this felt great - maybe the best run yet. I quickly shot off a text to the van telling them I was good, and to come by around 4 miles. This hopefully gave them a little more time to relax before hauling off to come find me. The run started just before 5am, which happens to be my prime running time. The weather was coolish - I was in long sleeves - and the streets were quiet and peaceful. It was really a lovely run. It warmed up quickly, and I ditched my long sleeves when I met up with the van at mile 4. The last half of the leg was through some heavily wooded neighborhoods and ended in a state park. When I finally arrived there, around 6:15 am, I decided that the last mile was really one mile too many - it felt like 4 miles. But, I was exstatic to be done. I completed my 3 legs, a total of 16.2 miles within 21 hours. Definitely the most running I've done in that time frame in my life.

Van 1 finished strong, just as the heat of the day was setting in, and we were quickly off in search of a real restaurant with real food and real margaritas - we needed to replenish our salt afterall. We found a Chili's, and it seemed do-able for the group. It felt good to sit and eat, knowing there was no running coming up just around the corner. The food and margs did us all in though, as we collectively fell asleep on the grassy hill just outside the Chili's door - for nearly 2 hours. After a snooze, we picked up some pizza to go and cheer along Van 2, who were fighting with the heat and some gruelingly long legs!

A slight set-back, our second to last runner was lost and went a few miles off course, and John was taking Sole Survivors into Foxboro for the last leg. We feared finishing DFL at this point, but knowing that our whole team was safe, and with only a few minor injuries - I felt relieved that we had made it. To me the end of the race was very anti-climatic, after months and months of preparation I couldn't believe it was just over.

Now, a week plus later, I really look back on that race as one of the best and most challenging experiences ever. It was an awesome group of people, who really came together and formed a supportive and fun team - when really, we were mostly strangers to each other. The physical challenges were not unbearable, and the satisfaction I feel with knowing we all made it has been great. I'm just hoping that next year's Ragnar does not coincide with the UT graduation as it did this year. I'll not be happy to have to choose one or the other (yes, I will choose graduation - much like a marathon, graduation will be like the finish line. I hope they'll have a tent with bananas!) Thanks, Sole Survivors, for such an amazing 2 days. I hope we can all run again somewhere sometime!

Funny the way it is

2010-05-12T23:50:00.003-05:00

Last night as I was changing into some running clothes, I tossed my pair of jeans into the hamper. They made a rattling noise as they landed and I thought, funny how I tossed them just so that the buttons clashed together like that.

This morning when I got to school I opened the main lab door with my ID, and reached for the zipper of my bag to get my office keys. I hadn't even tugged the zipper when I realized, you don't have your keys they are in your jeans pocket from yesterday and made a rattling sound when you tossed them into the hamper.

Many things happened between these two events - a 4 mile run, a kickball game, a few beers, and a full nights sleep. It's funny that I couldn't have been so insightful before i took my pants off, or as I heard them clinking. No, not until this morning was I clairvoyant enough to put it all together.

Oh, and I think I'm back....

baby steps

2010-01-05T08:32:00.002-06:00

Apparently, the gyms are overflowing this week, what with all the people who've made some resolutions to "lose weight" or "get in shape". I wouldn't really know though, since I've not been to the gym lately. Nor, have I made any concrete resolutions in the recent past. My 365 project is the most concrete one, and that only lasted until July!

I feel like I've got more time than most, I'm still on vacation and it's just silly to start my "resolutions" before I've returned to real life. But, I'm going to use this time to plan some needed changes, and to incorporate some good ideas. I'm devising an extensive list, with items under headings like "Health", and "Fitness", and "Money" and "Organization". There are many items under each heading - more specific than "lose weight", but with actual small steps to achieve these goals - like, "don't eat cheese at every meal, and 3 times in between!".

My grand plan is to select a few of these smaller steps to focus on each month. Perhaps, if I can take January to cut back on my cheese consumption, I won't have to think about it as much in February. Then I can use February to stop eating every single thing I bake!

I'd like to be held accountable for most of these small goals, so I'm predicting that you'll hear about them at the beginning and end of every month. Join in if you'd like, I like tackling things as a team rather than all alone!

Happy Twenty-Ten!

rose

2009-11-09T23:18:00.000-06:00

I'm sometimes amazed how clearly I can remember certain details of a situation and have no recollection of others. For instance, I remember the precise spot in my bedroom where I was standing when I heard the heart-breaking news, my junior year in high school, that this guy I was too-oo-otally in love with had kissed some other girl.* I mean, I remember EXACTLY where I was, I could go there right now. I can not, for the life of me, remember how my bedroom was arranged - I mean, which wall was my bed on, no idea. What tiny scrap of carpet was I standing on, got it. Why is that?!

Similarly, I think I will always remember exactly where I was as my grandmother passed away. I've already forgotten what I was wearing, but I do know the intersection I was at. That morning, like many other Saturday mornings, I got up early and went running. It wasn't my best run ever, admittedly my mind was elsewhere. But during the run a song came on my iPod, and it reminded me of her. Not because we ever listened to it together, but the lyrics seemed to be exactly what I wanted to say to her. On my way home, somewhere slightly after 10am central time, I replayed Tom Petty's Wildflowers in the car, while silently telling my Memere that she belonged somewhere she felt free. Listening to my mom's stories of that morning, this pretty much coincided with the beginning of the very end. Almost makes me feel like she heard me. And then managed enough strength to wait for my parents to get there and be by her side. I couldn't have wished for anything better for her, than if I could have been there myself.

Her death came as no surprise to any of us, I had spoken to my mom the day before and we knew that she was very weak and going to go soon. In fact, when we spoke that day we both were wishing that she'd go quickly. She'd lived 98 mostly good years, and as best we could determine, she was probably tired of fighting. I give her credit, because I imagine I'd have quit fighting long before she did.

Six weeks later, and I often feel selfish whenever I realize how much I miss her. I know full well that she's better off, but I haven't actually come around to the place where I feel much comfort in that. I consider myself very fortunate to have had such a close relationship with my grandmother, and to have so many wonderful memories of times with her. But, I still sometimes find myself waiting to hear a weekly update about her from my mom, then needing to remind myself that there isn't going to be one. Nearly 30 years being a family of four, I suppose it's understandable that it'll take some time to get used to this.

Tomorrow my parents are heading up to Dracut to attend the funeral of my mom's Uncle Henri - my grandmother's baby brother. She was the oldest of four, and Henri was the youngest, and this marks the end of their generation of Ostiguy's. I can almost find some additional closure in that. I never knew her other brothers, or her husband - they had all passed away before I was born. But I did know Uncle Henri. It makes me feel happy thinking of them reunited somewhere. I know it would make her happy too!

*Turns out, in true high school girl fashion, I was freaking out over nothing. The boy who kissed the girl was NOT my boy, but a different one. I just ASSUMED we were talking about my boy. Stories about another boy?! Why tell me those!?

a new month, a new me

2009-09-01T09:00:00.008-05:00

If you know me, you may know of a few things that I don't do that seemingly every normal person does. I don't drink coffee. And I don't ride a bike. I tried to ride a bike once, but that ended quickly.

A little over a month ago I moved into a new house - and everything has been wonderful. It's cheaper, bigger, nicer. My best friend lives in the bedroom next to mine, and we have a new roommate who is pretty much the 3rd awesomest person in the world. And, I now live 1.5 miles from school. How can this situation not be a win?! Well, we're about to find out.

My commute to school used to consist of a 15-20 min shuttle bus ride, on the days I opted for that. Or a 15 minute drive, followed by sometimes a 15 minute walk from where I could park my car. The latter is what happened most days. From the new place it's a 5 minute drive to campus. The search for parking and resulting walk seems too much given the short distance of the drive, so I've opted for no driving. There is a bus right outside my apartment, I can take it down the street to the baseball stadium, switch to a shuttle to take me to the football stadium, and switch to a shuttle that will take me to the Psychology building. You read that right, 3 buses for 1.5 miles. Seems, wasteful. So, the only logical answer is - ride a bike. It'll be the fastest, most independent way to commute. Not to mention, earth friendly.

But. It's a bike.

I rode with a friend of mine one day, and with a non-1974, non-Panasonic bike, I actually did much better.

Then a very generous friend (and blog reader) decided to give me her bike. She was moving out of Austin and could not fit it in her car. So, now I've got a bike. I bought a helmet, and a bell for the bike, and I should be all set to go. I rode the bike around my neighborhood for a short while last night, just to make sure it seemed ok. And I've been planning out my route to school for weeks. There is one small problem. The hill at Dean Keeton. There's no way around it, I must go down this hill. Yes, down. I'm afraid of the down. The up, fine. It'll be hard, maybe impossible, but the down - I'll be going so fast. I won't lie, I'm terrified.

But today, I'm going to ride to school. Look out drivers, bikers, and walkers, here I come. Worst case, I'll take three buses home tonight!

UPDATE: as of 10:15am central time, I have made it to my office. The bike is secured outside, I've changed my shoes and mopped up all the sweat. I suppose getting home will be the big challenge. Also, I didn't hate it. It was...almost nice!

and we'll run for our lives

2009-08-17T20:23:00.006-05:00

I'm about half way through my training for the 2nd annual Rock 'n Roll half marathon in San Antonio. Last year's Rock 'n Roll was my first race ever, I'm excited to go back there. The course is pretty flat, and the bands are pretty frequent, but the crowd was pretty sparse. This year I'll be running with at least 2 other friends, RO'D and LD, which will be an exciting addition.

I've been running on Saturday mornings with AustinFit since mid May, and even through all my traveling, I've stayed pretty much on track. I've done a lot of reading about running in the heat, because, well, it's been hot here. Today was our 58th 100+ degree day this summer. The record high was in 1923 with 66 over 100 days. The average is something like 14. So, to say it's a heat wave is an understatement. I read one article that said that it takes as much as two weeks to get used to running in heat this extreme. Which is pretty awesome since my summer started with about 2.5 weeks in Austin, 2.5 weeks in cool, crisp, San Francisco. Followed by 2.5 weeks in blazing Austin, and 2 weeks in glorious Los Angeles. If you're keeping up with this - I've basically been allowing myself enough time to get acclimated before I leave again. I say, training at it's best.

I read another article that indicated that your pace increases 30 sec/mile for every 10 degrees it is above 60. So, perhaps my 12ish minute miles are ok, considering it's routinely 90 by the time I'm running. I've been disappointed with my times, its been slower than I'd like - and tougher than I'd like. But, I'm hoping this is all heat-based, and will get easier quickly once mid-October rolls around.

Last Saturday I did a 9 mile run, and it was pretty difficult. I've been having some awesome calf problems - the worst of which came on Saturday. It's like tiny seizures in my calf muscles, you can watch them twitching away. After about 6 miles, I'd get instant charlie horses whenever I flexed my toes. This made running up hills difficult, as I use my toes often for this. I gave myself a gold star for making it to the end, even though there were longer stretches of walking in there. When I got home, I was sprawled out on a chair in the living room, RO'D was in the kitchen, and we were having some sort of conversation. In the middle of it I began yelping in pain, tried to stand up, nearly collapsed, and yelped some more.

What happened?? Are you ok??
I pointed my toe, I won't do that anymore!

I was kind of a mess, but after some TLC from the massage stick, and some pretty painful stretching, I felt better. And I've been at it ever since - so hopefully tomorrows 3 miles will be a little less painful!

This year, I'm doing one thing a little different - I've decided to try and raise money for the Huntington's Disease Society of America through my running. It's an organization that has become increasingly important to me, the disease has been plaguing the family of a very close friend of mine for many generations. The Huntington's Disease Society of America is a great organization that is involved in funding research, and helping with both patients and their families as they try to cope with this devastating disease. For those of you who may not be aware, HD is a genetic disease that is dominant - so anyone who has the gene will develop the symptoms. It is a neurodegenerative disease, meaning it affects your brain to some extreme degree. I've been blown away by the generosity that my friends and their friends have shown so far. I started with a goal of $1,000 and this was achieved in just one month. I've updated my goal to $1,500, in hopes to do even more good. Please consider donating if you can.

two days in LA

2009-08-01T13:56:00.011-05:00

In reality, it was two weeks in LA, but there were really only two days that I was able to get out and explore. I was at UCLA for a class (advanced fMRI, aka, nerd camp), which ended up being a really great experience. It started off, well, less than that.

I arrived at LAX, after a lengthy day o'travel, with a pit of anxiety in my throat. I was going to be staying in a dorm, on campus, with a roommate, and a meal plan, for two weeks. And I didn't know anyone. No one. And the one person I'd be at all interested in seeing in LA is notoriously bad at getting in touch with, and was also having a wedding that same week. Needless to say, I wasn't exactly excited for this trip.

Turns out, not all neuroimagers are freaks, and I met some people that were totally awesome, and made the weeks go by a little faster. In addition, I have some pretty awesome ex-UCLA friends, who lent out their own personal friends as needed. Over the weekend we had no class, and I was forced/able to fill my time with random LA excursions.

Saturday morning started early, around 5:30, and a friend of VC and Libs took me up to Malibu to see the tide pools. The tide was extra low, and we were able to see some sweet sea life in the rocky areas along the shore. It was a beautiful little hike around the cliffs to get there, and the beach was full of crazy surfers and dog-walkers alike. It was a fabulous way to spend the morning. Followed by some delicious lemon pancakes, yum! From here I went and rented a car - and I was off. I started with lunch at In 'n Out, and then I drove down sunset through Beverly Hills. After seeing the most awesome palm trees ever, I was off to Hollywood Blvd where I drove past Grauman's Theater and saw the Hollywood sign up on the hills. I spent the rest of the afternoon at the big Farmer's Market on Fairfax and 3rd, tried some Pinkberry frozen yogurt, and then was off to Dodger Stadium to catch a Dodger game.

The game was pretty awesome, although seeing Manny made me want to hurl. What's worse, I was sitting next to a tiny 3 year old boy who clearly idolized the idiot. I couldn't even jeer or boo, I just sat quietly.

On Sunday I woke up a little later than I had been, and was so happy to realize that I could still go running at 11am without fear of death by heat stroke. I found this new website that let me search for runs in LA. I found a great 6 mile loop through Beverly Hills, and I was off. It was a great run, through some gorgeous neighborhoods - with incredible palm trees. I was amazed by how few people there were out and about too. It was incredibly peaceful, and totally too much effort. I was so tired and sore when I was done. I spent the rest of the afternoon out by Santa Monica, and put my bare feet in the pacific ocean for the first time that I can remember. I forgot how much I missed being near the ocean, or how much I took it for granted growing up.

Two weeks later I've filled up an entire notebook, used the ink of one pen, made 4 or 5 new friends, survived a twin bed in the dorm, disgusto cafeteria food, and even saw a bunch of fun sites in LA. All in all, not the trip I feared when I landed at LAX.

aerially challenged

2009-07-20T11:17:00.004-05:00

I've adjusted to the fact that I'm going to be a person who just has trouble with airlines. Remember that time I had to board last so that they could install my seat, or when I slept in O'Hare after having made an emergency landing in Cedar Rapids. Oh, and there's the time I was stranded in Houston when I missed my flight by mere seconds. And who can forget my trip home from Australia, that ended in a 4 hour drive with a car full of strangers from Dallas to Austin. So, it's no surprise when things go awry, and I've learned to just roll with it. Why did I expect this flight out to LA to be any different?

The first leg was fine, Austin to Phoenix. It was hot when we left, it was hot when we arrived, the flight was short and uneventful. There was something like a 45 minute layover and then we'd be off to LAX. Our flight was first delayed by a few minutes, then a few minutes more. Then they began the boarding procedures. And most everyone was thinking, here we go!

They would have been wrong.

After we'd all been sitting on the plane, at the gate, for about 35 minutes the captain comes on and tells us that there's a small problem. You see, an instrument in the cockpit that is encased in a glass casing has cracked. While the instrument works just fine, they can not fly with the cracked glass. The captain alerts us that the ground crew has rushed back to the hangar to remove the same instrument from another plane to install into this one. It should take about 20 minutes, and we'll be good to go.

Another 35 or so minutes later the Captain gets back on the horn to tell us that "this plane isn't going anywhere". And that we will all have to get back off the plane, but they have to figure out how to do that appropriately. We "sit tight" for another 20 minutes.

After we've deplaned, and are sitting back in the gate, people are angry. There is a lot of grumbling. They switch us to the next gate over, and in pulls a new plane. I think some people were sighing in relief that this hiccup wouldn't be too costly.

They would have been wrong.

We boarded this plane, or started to. The families with children and passengers requiring extra time got on. The bums in first class got on. And Boarding groups 1, 2 (me), and 3. And then, the halted this procedure as well. Turns out, our crew was about to time out and wouldn't be able to make this flight. Rewind, we all pour out of the plane back into the gate.

Cue the grumbling. It was like a stand-off. Angry passengers, annoyed gate workers, everyone yelling and snipping and moaning. I just curled up in a chair to watch. It was a sight to see. I think we sat here for an hour. Then, up rolls a flight crew - hooray. And we start boarding the plane. Many people seemed happy.

They would have been wrong.

Turns out, this flight crew had somehow arrived without a pilot. I'm not sure if they lost him along the way, or what, but we had no pilot. In fact, there was no US Air pilot in the entire airport at this time. In fact, they boarded us all on a plane without really knowing that. So guess what we did then? We all got OFF THE PLANE!

Now, it's a real mob-scene. I watched one gate worker lean over to another guy and she said something in his ear, and he was off. Pretty quickly he returns in a cart with boxes. Boxes full of snack-packs. And water. The scene that ensued was much like what you might imagine happens in third world war-torn countries when the red cross rolls in to pass out food and water. I mean, paper was flying, people were shoving. It was insanity - and we'd only been stuck for maybe 3 hours at this point. Stuck in the friendliest airport in America, mind you, with plenty of food courts, shops, and free wireless internet.

US Air called up a few pilots. I imagined those conversations went something like this:
US Air worker, "Hey, Joe, you wanna come in and fly this plane for us?"
Joe the Pilot, "Well, nah, the game is on and I'm kinda comfortable."
US Air, "But see, there's this mob of people, and they're quite angry."
Joe, "In that case, heck no! Call Bob!"

It seemed to take a while, but the gate worker was very pleased with herself when she was able to announce that they had located a pilot and he was in the building. Everyone began to cheer and clap and jump up and down chanting.

They would have been wrong.

Apparently once the pilot arrives to the airport he has one hours worth of preflight paper work to do?! Who knew. The cheers turned to grunts, and the gate workers tried to toss more water bottles around - hoping this would help.

After about a 5 hour delay, boarding and unboarding 3 planes, we finally had a plane with working instruments, a flight crew, a pilot, and were pulling away from the gate. I was waiting for the cheers, it didn't happen. The flight attendant announced that they were going to give everyone on board a free cocktail for our troubles. I waited for the cheers.

Forty-three minutes and one glass of red wine later we landed in LA. And that's when the crowd decided it was finally ok to cheer. Welcome to LA!

2009, Third Quarter.

2009-07-10T12:42:00.004-05:00

We can sum up 2009, Second Quarter as complete slacker.

Ok, that's not entirely fair - but I did slip into a dismal abyss when it comes to things I usually like to do quite often. We can make a list:

1. frequent blog entries
2. Project 365
3. cooking
4. running
5. bathing

On the plus side, today I finally switched the wall calendar in my office from April to July, last week I moved from one apartment to another, and a few weeks ago I got back into the saddle with my running - I'll be doing 6+ miles on Saturday morning. The outlook for the 3rd quarter is brighter, but I suppose there wasn't much direction to go but up!

a lesson in skin care

2009-07-04T10:39:00.004-05:00

I'm generally the one who is slathering up with sunscreen, while some of my friends forget it, or choose to go without. Mostly, this horrifies me, so I figured I'd offer my Happy 4th of July wishes by talking about skin care.

Some of my friends aren't freaked out by the prospects of skin cancer, I guess that's where we differ. I'm all for not looking pasty white, but at the same time, I understand it comes with some risks. I generally like to find a good balance between lack-of-see-throughness and too-much-sun-exposure. There was a rumor for a while that any sunscreen over SPF 20 was a joke. This is only partly true. There are two types of rays - UVA and UVB. UVB causes the burns, while UVA generally causes the wrinkles, and is generally more responsible for skin cancer. Typically US sunscreens only contain protection against UVB, but not UVA. Then for a while there was one product that was approved to be included in sunscreens to protect from UVA, and that was only in some sunscreens at SPF 20. There is a new product, in Neutrogena, that has a broad spectrum UVA-UVB protection, and combine two different chemicals to not only block UVA but also to make that protection last longer in direct sun exposure. You can be sure, my sunscreens (yes, I said sunscreens, plural) of choice have this type of protection.

My daily routine is to use a face lotion that has SPF 15 in it, every day, on my face. I also have a body lotion with SPF 15, that I'll use on my shoulders and arms when I'm wearing a tank top. This is just everyday. To go to school, the grocery store, sit in my apartment.

When I'm heading out for a run, I generally use this face stick, which does not clog pores nor run into your eyes. I also use a sport spray on my arms and shoulders, and lately I've been running with a hat.

On days, like today, when I am heading to sit directly in the sun pool side, I do have an extensive routine. I start with an SPF 55 cream sunscreen. I put this one BEFORE I put my suit on, to make sure I even get under the edges of wear the suit would go. And I let it dry a bit before pulling my suit up over it. I do this as I get dressed, generally HOURS before I'm actually IN the sun. I also use it on my face. Then, when I first get out in the sun, I reapply using the sports spray and the face stick. I do not get in the water for at least 30-45 minutes after this. From here on out, when I reapply - and I do try to often - I use the sports spray. As you're applying, don't forget things like your ears, the tops of your feet, the backs of your knees. They are often over looked, and hurt quite badly when burned.

And, after the sun, if I am burned (which does happen sometimes, even with all this effort), my favorite after sun lotion is Burts Bees. And just remember to keep any sunburn moisturized, this will help much to get it to heal quickly.

Happy Fourth of July to everyone, wishing you lots of BBQ, watermelon, cold beers, good friends, and a beautiful sun-safe day!

a lesson in heat

2009-06-28T13:37:00.004-05:00

I feel like the only thing I've been saying lately is "It's so dang hot!" But, it's just that - so dang hot. On Thursday we reached 110 degrees* on my car thermometer. With the humidity and the heat index, I'm sure it "felt like" at least 115. On Friday, I got into my car at 6pm, and it said 110 degrees. Six in the evening is supposed to be on the cool slide of the scale, in my faux-reality at least. I walked into my apartment where the AC was set to 80 degrees. I did the quick math, 80 degrees inside is 30 degrees cooler than the 110 degrees outside. Since when, in the history of anything normal, is 80 degrees thirty degrees cooler than anything?!

Let me just explain a bit what happens when you get into your car and it's been 110 degrees. First, you can not breathe in, for fear of passing out instantly. You must quickly open the windows, and leave the car door open. Now here comes the tricky part. You must use one pinky on one hand to move the shifter from 1st to neutral. Don't risk more than that, its not worth it. Now, using the fourth finger on that same hand you release the emergency brake. Why the fourth finger? Obviously because you can not re-use your pinky, it's on FIRE. About now you will have to shut the door, and using your first and second fingers you can turn the key. I'm sure you wonder, why is the key hot, it wasn't in the car the whole day. It's true, it wasn't, but it has now been in the car for 5 minutes and is also hotter than hades. Now with the car on, you have to buckle up. For this I use my opposite hand, and you have to first locate the metal buckle part - do not attempt to put on your seatbelt without being aware of where the buckle is, that thing is currently a leathal weapon. You must quickly grab the strap and then at the last possible moment, grip the plastic near the buckle and buckle it in. If you still have use of your hands, and if you have not branded yourself in the shoulder with the buckle, you can now drive off. Obviously using only one finger for the steering wheel.

And, that's just starting your car. Let's not discuss the pitfalls of running. The short version is, it sucks. I ran yesterday at 630am, it was already 85 when we started, and it was about 93 when we finished, and 4 miles has never been so difficult in my entire life.

Moral is, it's so dang hot!

*My apologies to those of you stuck in the darkness that is the northeast. I know you all want to say "blah blah blah...what I wouldn't give for sun....blah blah blah", but seriosuly, I'm going to go out on a limb and ask you to be careful what you wish for. There's a happy medium, and I'm ok with concluding that neither of us are experiencing it currently.

an oldie, but a newie

2009-06-16T02:01:00.002-05:00

This recent round of mixcorps required me to dig up all of my old CDs. You see, my car was broken in to at least 3 times while I was in college, and since then I refused to buy new CDs, they seemed useless, and out-dated, and old. So for years I've been saying how I don't have any CDs. But, this is an apparent lie. I have a bunch. Not all are great, but I recently spent some time ripping them all to my iTunes. The result of which has been nothing short of pleasant.

I was walking to school the other day, and a song came on. A song I haven't heard in years. But the lyrics resonated with me. Lyrics that had been long forgotten. It came up in a week where I probably needed it most, to be reminded of earlier times - of who I was, or who I wanted to be. And how far off I've fallen. Because as much as I've forgotten, I am still unhappy with answers that I don't feel, and I am still open to the one more chance I'll be given. I am still flying off the rooftops and falling into laughter!

Soul Mate by Sarah Wheeler:

She is looking for a soul mate.
You see, she’s waiting for an answer.
And she’s been listening to all he’s said,
To everything he gave her.
But these words, they are not helping,
You see, ‘cause she doesn’t feel it.
And all the anger that was once inside her,
She’s transformed it and revealed it.
And she is packing up her suitcase.
You see, she never really moved here.
You see, she never planned on staying.
And she is giving up all her fear.

She is climbing now, up the ladder.
Peaking out from the rafters.
Flying now, off the rooftops.
Falling now, into laughter.

There’s an ocean in her mind now,
She can feel the pulling currents.
There is an undertow, which carries her,
It’s taking from her vision.
And there is something that does guide her,
But it is only just a feeling.
And it is only just a glimpse there of
The hand, which you are giving.
And she is sure that this is one more chance,
One chance she’s been given.
I saw her running for the doorway,
I saw her holding to her vision.
And she is going to grab your hand dear,
So please, pull her through the window.
And she is going to walk into the light
With shadows all inside her

And she is climbing now, up the ladder.
Peaking out from the rafters.
Flying now, off the rooftops.
Falling now, into laughter.

rabies

2009-06-07T09:53:00.003-05:00

Last night I was at a cook-out with some friends (in Tejas we have to be very careful about throwing around the word BBQ, if its burgers and veggies on the grill, it's a cook-out). The hosts have a tiny crazy English Bulldog, who spent the entire night trying to get out the kitchen door and on to the stoop with all of us. At one point another dog, a boarder collie, wandered over and finally they let the bulldog out to play. The two dogs chased each other around a bit, but the the bulldog retreated back inside. The collie hung around for a long while, and our hosts admitted that they'd never seen this dog in the neighborhood. Ever. The dog had on a collar and a flea collar, but no tags - other than his rabies tag. We began calling the dog Rabies. He was super responsive to this name, and hung out for a few hours. We gave him water, which he slurped up with the quickness. We also gave him table scraps (or really, less scraps and more actual pieces of food). I even played the best game of fetch with Rabies for about 35 minutes. He was much fun, but we felt bad because it became obvious that he was likely lost. With nothing more than the rabies tag to go on, we called the vet number on the tag, and then the answering service to report him missing. The vet we spoke to was not able to get to the office and asked us to hold on to Rabies for the evening so that we could sort it out tomorrow. Our cook-out hosts penned Rabies up in their backyard, and the vet had my number to call in the morning.

As the night progressed Rabies got louder and louder in the yard, angering all the neighbors, so they had to let him out of there. Sadly, when the vet called this morning none of us had thought to write down the tag number - so we have nothing to report about where Rabies is from, who he belongs to, and whether or not I can keep him - afterall, I'm gonna have a big back yard in a matter of weeks! Hopefully he found his way home, or will find his way back to the bulldog house, where they can call the vet again!

*NOTE: this picture is NOT Rabies. See the leaves, wherever this picture was taken it was Fall. We don't have that season here.

Catch-22, defined

2009-05-06T18:14:00.002-05:00

The problem: I've been spiraling out-of-control down this slippery funky slope where things I used to enjoy have become a burden, there is a significant lack of motivation of any kind (internal or external), and copious amounts of self-pity have set in. Allow me to clarify (for those who might be worried for my mental health), I don't actually feel sad or unhappy, and I still spend 90% of my day giggling uncontrollably. I just feel like doing nothing. Forever.

The answer: Probably to get off my butt and start running again. I've matched my run-cycle with this weird-funk cycle perfectly. Running makes me happy. Running makes me productive. Running makes me less stressed.

The catch-22: I can not muster the motivation to get out of the house and actually run in order to pull myself out of said spirally-disaster. Which only results in further depths of unmotivated lump-dom. And on the two occasions I did get out the door, it was such an awful run...cue the self-pity.

The cure: I'm gonna run in the morning, and I'm going to like it. And I'm going to do it the next day, and again, until I don't have to write about it on the friggin' interwebs just to make sure I get out and do it.

undecided

2009-04-02T17:01:00.007-05:00

Dear Internets,

I'm so behind on documenting my ever-so-exciting life that I can't decide if I should try and play catch up, or if I should just skip the past events and start anew. The reality is, you aren't missing much. But there are a few things I've got queued up to write about. Like, well, my trip to San Francisco*. Or the day I gave up cable. I ran another race which involved big exciting goals to be met. Oh, and how about, I haven't eaten meat in over 6 weeks. I feel like those could all be interesting stories, and I'd like to tell them. But, I'm so tired, Internets. I'm so tired, and also a little insane. Observe.

Date: March 30th
Time: 4pm
Location: locked in an empty testing room with no windows.
Event: I was using my laptop and I clicked something, to open something. And then I was waiting for it to open. As I was waiting, I forgot what I was waiting for. I only perceived about 15 seconds of time had elapsed, but I had no clue what I was waiting for. Looking at the computer screen did not help to answer said question. To this day, I still have not remembered what I was trying to open/click on/look at or what I thought I was waiting for. Hopefully, it got accomplished somewhere.

Date: March 31st
Time: midnight
Location: perched on a bar stool at my table in my living room.
Event: I spent about 45 seconds hovering between the "send" and "save" buttons in gmail when trying to send an email. It took me 45 seconds to determine which button would actually achieve my desired results. Whats worse, I had to resort to a two-step process of figuring this out; 1.) what IS my desired result? 2.) which of these words means that. 45 seconds is actually a very long time for someone hoping to get their PhD to spend deciding between the words SEND and SAVE.

Date: April 1st
Time: 8am
Location: the shower
Event: face wash......shampoo......face wash......shampoo......face wash......shamp - wait a minute. Conditioner!

Respectfully yours,
me!

*If I link you to my photos, and N's posts here, here, and here, I think we can check this one off the list!

44.44%

2009-03-29T19:15:00.001-05:00

March 2nd, sad
Originally uploaded by with an eye

That is the percentage of things in my fridge that are either a.) expired b.) growing mold or c.) actually empty but still in the fridge. I'm not sure what the worst part of this is: the cold hard facts, or the indication that I actually took the time to calculate this data point. Or maybe it's that two of the items pictured here in my fridge on March 2nd are still there today. It's a sad state of affairs down here these days. I look forward to April 8th with hope and determination for a better life!

South by South Madness

2009-03-20T09:36:00.009-05:00

My first (and only) day of South by Southwest 2009 was pretty great. I've decided that ACL and SxSW are totally differently overwhelming. ACL is huge and overwhelming because you are running from one stage to another, through thousands of people and an all-encompassing cloud of dust, trying to see all the bands you want, all the while trying to not lose your friends. SxSW is completely the opposite. I mean, its scale is SO much bigger, that you can't possibly run around from stage to stage trying to see everything. And you can't possibly hope to run in to people. You just head out, sans plan, prepared to be completely content with what you are seeing, and not thinking about the fact that similar parties are happening at every other bar. And on every other street corner. In the entire city. For the entire day. For 4 days in a row. If you were to think about that, your head would explode.

This year we spent Thursday afternoon at Mohawk's on Red River. The line was short, the cover was non-existent, and the beers were complimentary. We haven't even gotten to the shows we saw yet, and it's already sounding like a perfect day - ain't it?! Not to mention the weather. It wasn't too hot yet, just right. Warm enough for sandals and a tank top and sunglasses, but not hot enough that people were disgusting.

We got to the outdoor stage at Mohawk's, beers in hand, in time to see most of the set for Glasvegas. I'd not really heard them much, but I've since seen them twice on the late night TV circuit. They were really good, I'm a new fan. After their set, and another free beer, we had a little break on the roof deck of Mohawk's. The last show of the day at Mohawk's was Austin's own ...And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead. The had a much bigger following than Glasvegas, the place really filled up, and the crowd new all the words to all the songs. Not me. But, I did still like them - it was a good show.

From there we headed down to Auditorium Shores for the free concert series. (Admittedly, on our way we took a break at BD Riley's to grab some grub and the first of the March Madness games.) We arrived in time to catch the end of one show, now I forget who, and managed to see a pretty good set by Cold War Kids.

After this, we were pretty beat, and headed home with dreams of burritos and watching a movie. A plan that was only thwarted when everyone involved passed out cold within the first 5 minutes.

All in all, another great day in the live music capitol of the world!

Memere

2009-03-09T20:03:00.005-05:00

I'm not sure why I've been thinking about her a lot lately, maybe it's because a few of my friends have lost grandparents recently, or maybe it's because of the elderly subjects I have the fortune to work with every week. But, I'd like to tell you about my Memere. My family is pretty small, I'd say there are four of us. If you go to the farthest reaches of extended family, we might be able to get up to 20 - in both directions - but, I've always considered it to be the four of us. My mom, my dad, my memere, and me.

She's my Mom's mom, and my mom is her only child. I, in turn, am her only grandchild. For as far back as I can remember, she was there for all the important things - holidays, birthdays, school events, dance recitals. Yet, for most of my early life she lived more than a 3 hour drive north of us, in Lowell, MA. I have fond memories of her calling me her little chickadee, and tossing matchbox cars across the kitchen floor at each other. The "spare room" in our house was always referred to as "Memere's room" while I was growing up, as she was it's only real occupant that I can recall.

When she lived in Lowell she had a fish tank, but there were no fish in it, there were little ceramic figurines of animals and things. I remember she gave me a few - a squirrel maybe, and a lamb, I think. And her apartment used to have carpet that went into the dining room that I thought was strange - although, now that I type it out loud, I can't understand why it was strange my parents carpet also goes into the dining room. But hers was strange. And, she had this little vacuum thing, which may very well have been the first ever Swiffer, that you just rolled over the carpet and it picked up the crumbs. And her step-stool, it was yellow. Gosh, I remember such weird things about that apartment.

The elementary school I went to had Grandparents Day each year, and she would come down for it. Our grandparents would come around with us for the day, meet our friends and teachers. It was usually in April or May, and I remember how fun it was to show her the things I did, and to get to eat lunch with her. It was probably one of the best days of the whole year - for both of us, I think.

When I was about 12, she moved to RI, and had the apartment with the garage. And ever after she moved out, that apartment will be remembered for one thing, and one thing only. Sewage. We used to see her every Sunday, we'd go to her house in the evenings, she'd have something for dessert. We'd all eat and talk. I'm sure that I didn't always act like I cared, but I know I always liked going over there. And then a few years later, we'd go over on Sunday mornings instead - and go out for breakfast. Or take a drive to Watch Hill for ice cream.

I remember years of being nervous to be the one to go upstairs and get her - for no good reason. But we used to do that little "shave and a haircut" knock. I'd do the first part "shave and a hair cut" and she'd knock back with "two bits!" Which means she was likely standing there for 20 minutes waiting for me to do my part, so that she wasn't late with hers. When I think hard, I can still hear her saying "I'm coming, I'm coming" or the way she said "Hello" when she answered the telephone.

One of the worst parts about moving to Texas, I'm realizing, is that I'm missing her. When I lived in Massachusetts I could still see her often, or call. The longer I'm gone, and the farther away I am, the more impossible that becomes. She'll be 98 in May, and long distance communication is tough. Obviously, she does not text, IM, or email (which comprises 78% of my communication). She is legally blind, and so we can not be penpals (we wrote often while I was in college). And the longer she's in the nursing home, the more difficult the phone becomes. With her advancing age, and her declining sensory perception, she's having a harder time holding on to things that are simply not part her daily routine. The phone is not in her routine. And, now, neither am I.

I saw her while I was home for Christmas, and while Christmas day itself was a challenge for her, it was nice to be able to spend a lot of time together. I can say, with some professional clout, that she does not have dementia, but is a 98 year old woman who is blind, can't hear, and doesn't walk - and I can imagine it's easier to let go of your remaining faculties instead of trying to hold on to the few you've got left. So, while she may not have always been aware that it was me who was there with her during those visits, I was lucky enough to hear her mention once or twice that she has a granddaughter in Texas. And, I was able to see the look of recognition (and confusion) on her face when I called her Memere!

"Wait, what did you just call me?" "Memere!" "Ohh, it's Jenni!"

tesla love

2009-02-18T06:06:00.002-06:00

This morning I had to be at the imaging center at 5:30am, a feat in itself that is less than ideal. Last night around 7pm I developed rapid onset flu symptoms, which kept me awake and miserable for most of the night.

5am came pretty quickly, and my whole body was sore. I got dressed and decided to stop at CVS first to pick up something to get me through the day. When I went to pay, with the credit card that was in my pocket, I was denied. Of course I immediately knew that the credit card had been in my pocket yesterday evening when I had been scanning. Magnet:1 Jenni:0

I arrived, a little late, to the imaging center and let myself into the console room to set up. After getting everything squared away in both the console and magnet room I reached into my jacket pocket. The magnetically programmed access card to the psychology building and my lab was sitting there. Magnet:2 Jenni:0

My RA came into the console room to ask me about the ferromagnetic properties of BB gun pellets, as our subject has one lodged in his finger. Given my track record with the magnet today so far, I'm reluctant to take any chances.

Run Jenni, Run

2009-02-17T07:36:00.004-06:00

Sunday marked my second half marathon in 3 months, which becomes more and more humorous to me every time I think about it. As my mom puts it, I didn't just dislike running when I was growing up, I physically hated it. Loudly, and publicly hated it. And now I choose to run multiple miles on end. It's just funny.

All week I'd been eating my healthy oat bran craisin muffins for breakfast, lots of fruits and veggies throughout the day, and drinking buckets of water. I was hydrated, fueled and ready to go. Oh, and can I mention scared. Saturday I picked up my race packet along with some goodies at the Expo - including a bunch of free samples, and my very own Stick. Best. Thing. Ever. I also got my very own pace bracelet, a 5:00 finish bracelet, which I was pretty sure was too fast for me. I went home, washed all of my racing gear, and headed to RO'Ds for some delicious grilled steak, veggies, and potatoes. The lovely KD gave me a good luck balloon, and I headed home to get to bed early.

Sunday's plan was to wake up at 4:45, head downtown by 5:30, and meet up with some friends at 7th and Congress by 6:15am. I was wide awake by 4. As I got ready I must have unpinned and repinned my bib number to about 4 different places, finally deciding on the place it started. I went through all my pre-run routine, and had everything I needed. I grabbed the last muffin to nibble on my way, and headed out by 5:30. After parking the car, I headed towards Congress - and decided to turn on my iPod for some pre-race inspiration. It did not work. WHAT! I was frantic. I tried again, I reset it. I knew I had left it plugged in all night, but I was concerned that maybe all the songs had been erased. I checked my watch to see if I had time to go home and come up with a plan B, but I did not. Then I heard one little note of music. I tried to make it happen again. It was shortly after that when I realized the headphones were not plugged in. Crisis solved, iPod working. Once I met up with my friends I realized I had forgotten my pace bracelet. I said aloud, "Crap, I'm going to be doing math all morning" - and it was true. The number of times I calculated '11 minutes times 9 miles is 99 minutes, minus 60 is 1:39:00, but 12 minutes time 9 miles is...90 plus 18, so thats 108, minus 60 is 1:48:00, but crap, what was 11. Ok, so if I'm between 1:39 and 1:48 then I should be ok.' or how about 'if a 5k is about 3-ish miles, and a 10k is about 6-ish miles, then 20k is about 12-ish miles, so at 12 miles if I'm running 12 minute miles I should be at...ok, 144 minus 120 is 2:24:00.' I'm embarrassed how long these simple problems kept me stumped.

The race started a tad late, and the first three miles were a slow but steady incline. I seemingly struggled through my initial 6/1's (6-minutes running, 1-minute walking - I have to start this way or I will crash out way too early!)I had a wonderful group of friends waiting for me just as we turned the corner between miles 3 and 4. They were there smiling, with signs, and cheering. A much welcome difference from San Antonio. They said I was doing great, I left my jacket with them and indicated I felt like crap. It was true. I was unaware of the steady incline and just how tough that would be for my already difficult first 3 miles. The next 3 were mostly down hill, and the 'high' from my friends and the signs kept me moving too. By mile 6 I was comfortably into some 10/1's and was pretty close to an 11 minute mile. I was aware that I was already feeling better than San Antonio, and I was now in my groove. Britney Spears' Circus was playing a few extra times on the iPod, to keep me going. (ugh, I know, Britney, but seriously...this one did it for me.)

Somewhere after mile 8 I realized there was something wrong in my shoe. I couldn't quite figure it out, but it felt like a rock, or something completely digging into my right foot. I eventually stopped and untied the sucker to check it out. Of course, nothing. So I put it back on, something still piercing my foot, and I just put it out of my mind. Back to some math. I was trying to calculate the time that my friends running the full would be done: 'if it's 2 hours for me now, and they were predicting a 4:20 race, and it's 9:30am, then they have 2.5 hours left, which is...crap, what time did I say it was, ok 9:30 plus...crap, how much time, ok, 2.5 hours. so 10:30, 11:30 - between 11:30 and 12.' Amazing, I forgot all about the thing poking my foot.

After mile 9 an unexpected friend was chillin' on the corner. It was so great to see her, because she's been pretty sick lately, and just her effort to get up and down there meant a ton. So after seeing LR, I was off and running again. Shortly after, the first group re-appeared along with their signs. It was another wonderful surprise to see them. And the last push I needed to feel like I could tackle the mother of all hills. (NOTE, the people in this picture are happily seen running DOWN said hill, I most definitely was going in the other direction, and a bit less happy.) I did notice the slowing of the herd, many people hunched over and walking up, my own "running" was slow, but a dedicated run. Halfway up, RO'D's smiling face as he starts jumping up and down cheering for my approach. Everything he said to me may have been a lie, but he feel in step along side me and said "You look great, you're the only one kicking it up this hill" He said he'd run a little ways with me, and together we passed the other group of friends he was with. I looked over at him and breathlessly said "I'm tired as shit" and he chuckled and said "Oh, I'll slow down!" He crossed the 12 mile mark with me, at 2:24:15 (note, from previous calculations this is nearly exactly a 12 minute mile). As he left he said "you look great, keep going you're almost there, I'll see you at the end." and he high-fived me on my way.

I thank him for getting me up that hill, but the last mile was still pretty tough. I kept slowing down, but tried to turn it on to keep up the 12 minute miles. There was one more small incline, and despite the "Keep Going" lovingly spray painted onto the road, I took a break to walk it up that one. I was running when I saw the 800 meters to go sign, and I didn't look back - ran it all the way in. 2:37:30, which is a consistent 12-minute mile pace, 15 minutes shorter than my time in San Antonio, on a course with many, MANY more inclines. And, I was still standing at the end.

I think, of the whole ordeal, the biggest accomplishment came the following day, when I was nearly unsore (except for one small toe/toenail issue), and even contemplated going for a run at one point.

Besides my own accomplishments, the day as a whole was spectacular. I was in awe of all the support, from friends nearby and family and friends who weren't. The attitude of the runners, the spectators, the city as a whole - it was fantastic.

This weekend I am jumping into week 7 of a training program for the Capitol 10K, where the goal is to run the entire thing continuously, without my beloved one-minute walking breaks.

thirteen point one

2009-02-15T15:34:00.001-06:00

February 15th, thirteen point one
Originally uploaded by with an eye

Indeed, more to come, but I wanted to expend the energy I have now to thank everyone for the incredible support this morning - be you in Austin and out on the course with signs and running up the largest mother of a hill with me, or far away with running-sound tracks, supportive dreams, references to me as Buckaroo Banzai and well-wishing emails, a tiny piece of this medal belongs to y'all as well. The contest for MBF is officially over, with a bazillion-way tie. Thank you. Really.

one month down

2009-01-31T23:18:00.003-06:00

I decided to start taking a picture a day, at least, for a whole year. I'd read about other people who have done this, and I wanted to give it a try. The first month proved difficult - and many of these shots were taken at the end of the day before I ran out of time. I hope it gets more routine and easier.

The whole 365 set is here.

twelve point five, break-down

2009-01-31T12:34:00.005-06:00

I ran the longest of my training runs this morning, 12.5 miles. It amazes me when I do a long run like this, that a person can run past the Hula Hut, the Erwin Center, the Palmer Events Center, and the Elephant Room in the same 2 hour span. Here are the events, as they transpired, this morning.

mile 1: starting the normal trail loop in the opposite direction, Good.
mile 2: new insole in my shoe, Good.
mile 3 (in proximity of my car again): running jacket, Bad. (returned it to car!)
mile 3.5: Ctyomax going down, Gooooooood!
mile 4-6: Exposition hills, Bad.
mile 7: Enfield hill, Ugly.
mile 8: Cytomax coming up, Baaaad!
mile 8: Shrub near the Texas State History Museum to hurl in, Good.
mile 9-10.5: running the whole way in 10.5 minutes, Good.
mile 11: new insole in my shoe, Bad, very bad.
mile 12: Kayne West's Stronger, Good.

Today's run was tough, lots of hills. I'll be running on Enfield for the half marathon, but not on Exposition. Exposition has rolling hills - lots of up and downs, still of considerable incline. Enfield has less steep inclines, until one monstrosity that is painful even to look at. I think next week on my shorter run I'll do Exposition and Enfield again, obviously they had my number today.

25 Random Things About Me

2009-01-27T08:47:00.002-06:00

In another corner of the blogosphere I posted a note with 25 random things about me. I had a lot of fun writing it during a never-ending scan session yesterday, and it seemed like most people enjoyed reading it. Since some of y'all aren't over on facebook I thought I'd share it here too. Particularly in that there are a few items that pertain to some of my non-facebook loyal readers (numbers 1, 8 and 19 particularly!)

1. You will never catch me riding a bike. I haven't since I was 8. I thought once I wanted to, I tried, and I realized I was wrong.

2. I have food issues: I don't eat eggs, I don't drink coffee or anything hot really, I don't eat seafood, I don't eat mushrooms. The reason for all of these is, I don't like it. I am a MUCH better eater than when I was younger.

3. I can't sleep with socks on, I can't eat with my hair down and I can't take care of the weird Texas bugs in my apartment without shoes on. It's just the way it is.

4. When I was little I was insanely, prohibitively shy.

5. When I make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich I put peanut butter on both pieces of bread. I think it keeps the jelly from making the bread soggy, but also keeps the jelly from sliding out of the sandwich. And yes, I make PB&J quite often!

6. I am astounded on a daily basis by the lack of honesty that people (myself included) display. Not to get all "and the truth shall set you free" or "honesty is the best policy" on you - but really, its true. All I ever want to hear is the truth, even if it makes me upset - it's still the truth and I still want to know it.

7. I feel I will have failed when I stop being astounded by the lack of honesty and grow to accept it, or worse, expect it.

8. I am an only child. My mother is an only child. I once got into a fight with a girl about whether only children really exist.

9. I am a Red Sox die hard. And have been all my life. When I was younger Tony Pena was my favorite, and Dewey. Also, Carlos Quintana. Johnny Pesky symbolizes everything that is right with the city of Boston and the sport of baseball, in my eyes!

10. I know all the states in alphabetical order and their capitals.

11. I have been fortunate enough to have 6 really close guy friends during various stages in my life. Luckier in that I still talk to 4 of them!

12. I've developed a tolerance to novacaine (and lidocaine too), and I metabolize it ridiculously quickly. The last time I was at the dentist it took 10 shots to get it numb, and a shot every 10 or so minutes to keep it that way. Needless to say, I find dental procedures to be painfully annoying.

13. I have a mean streak, Pictionary and Cranium bring it out.

14. I can quote from every episode of the Cosby show. My homie and I used to pride ourselves on the ability to converse solely through Cosby quotes. ("This looks like a house that would have some cran-apple juice!")

15. I've had 4 cars, three of them have been mazda's. I started with a 1989 Mazda MX6 (rip MIB!), then moved down to a 1990 Mazda Protege. I drove a 1997 Hyundai Tiburon for a long time, and 3 years ago I bought a 2006 Mazda3.

16. I've had stitches on four different occasions. My lower lip, both inside and out (age 3), my head (age 8 - this is the incident that keeps me off a bike), all my wisdom teeth (age 18), my finger tip (age 26)

17. I was the most surprised of anyone at my decision to move to Texas and go to UT. I've not regretted that choice one single day!

18. I've only been thrown out of a bar once. It was because I threw a dart at some guy. Yes, it was on purpose. Yes, he deserved it. Yes, I warned him first, repeatedly. No, it didn't hit him. And yes, I'm glad no one got hurt.

19. I've been to 10 (more if we count all the islands in the caribbean) different countries, but only 22 states, and a portion of those were only on my drive down to TX. I have a tentative plan to do a driving tour of all 50 states with some friends, but we can't make it happen until we finalize the rules of our 50-state drinking game. Obvi!

20. I played lacrosse in college, not varsity it was just club. I like field hockey better, but wasn't good enough to play in college. I also rowed crew in high school, and started to in college. I was on the swim team for one season, I played basketball in 6th grade, and recently I've started distance running. For fun I've done intramural volleyball, floor hockey, ultimate frisbee, softball, and kickball. I've never once considered myself an athlete.

21. I have OCD tendencies about cleaning. I do it when I'm stressed, and I Clorox wipe everything.

22. My paternal grandfather passed away in 2007 and some of the guys my dad works with came to the wake. While talking to them it became obvious that they knew everything I'd done with the past 5 years of my life. They knew where I worked, and what I worked on, the trips I'd taken, the car I'd bought, every little thing. I cried at the thought of my dad going in to work to brag about his 27-year-old daughter.

23. When I use Microsoft Word I always have the paragraph symbols turned on. This inevitably freaks out anyone who tries to edit a document on my computer.

24. I've got a giant birthmark on my butt. I often forget it's there, and right now I am unsure which side it's on.

25. I'm a completely different person than I was at the age of 16. I think that's a good thing.

it's all mental

2009-01-25T18:25:00.009-06:00

I've developed a philosophy about running, and I've been working on translating that into a philosophy for life in general, as it's really a helpful one.

There are good days, and there are bad days. The end.

And, I've found it's true. And it's what keeps me going back out there. Knowing that one bad day doesn't dictate any of the days to come, and vice versa. I can't let the bad days bring me down, nor can I sail on the high from a good day for too long. Each day is what it is, and then it's over.

I'm three weeks away from my second half marathon, and I've been feeling incredibly unprepared, overwhelmed, and fail-tastic. Certainly the holidays got in the way of my aggressive training, but even since I'd been back I hadn't made the strides in distance that I had hoped. Perhaps, also, is the fear in the back of my mind in doing this race completely solo. Not only has my MBF search turned out low numbers of applicants, but my running partners are dropping like flies. And so, three weeks to go, I'm the only one running and I seriously question if I can do that.

On Thursday I was granted a few extra free hours and a lovely 78 degree afternoon and I thought, this is the perfect time for my 10-miler. I geared up and hit the trail. The pain started in my right instep. It was constant and nagging, but I trudged onward. It began to radiate up my leg, through my entire shin, which now felt as if it weighed 40 pounds. I stopped, at a mile maybe, to stretch it more. The sound it made (along with the feeling I felt) was that of a slow gentle ripping. Nothing that you'd want to hear or feel at this point, if ever. I started running again. All the while I thought about how heavy my leg felt, how the pain was just sitting there, how hard this was, how alone I felt, how I couldn't do this. At about 2.5 miles I realized I was slowly crying, mostly from the pain, and I decided to turn around and head back. The definition of a bad day. I was afraid more than before that I just simply wasn't ready and couldn't do this.

I planned to try again, ten miles, on Saturday morning. I asked some running buddies if they'd go too. None of them were up to the full ten mile challenge, but they agreed to start with me, keep me slow, get me going. I was convinced I just wouldn't have the internal motivation to get through the whole ten miles alone. Let's be honest, I'm not a runner. In my lifetime I've only run a distance of ten miles or more three times, a distance of five miles or more maybe nine times. Friday night came and went, I was nervous and anxious. I came home early and tried to sleep. I woke up and saw the dark sky at 6am, and the weather report - 33 degrees and windy. Awesome. I went through my normal pre-run prep, and waited for the texts to roll in. Which they did. First KD, sick with the Cedar Fever. Then LD, overtired and unmotivated. Then CS, wanting more sleep. I had been afraid of this very thing. But I continued to bundle up. I put on my running pants, a tank top, a long sleeved running shirt, a t-shirt, my running jacket, my gloves, the iPod, and laced up my trusty kicks. And I headed out to the trail.

It was cold, to say the least. I was rockin' the CD mixes that Melanie made for my Rock n' Roll Race, and I started slow. My leg, it felt heavy. I started to get nervous. But, I kept going. After about 2 or so miles my leg was loosened up. And I was in a groove. I felt good, the trail felt good, everything felt good. I know that the pain I felt on Thursday was real, but on Saturday I had the ability to not let it get to me. After 4 or so miles I took a wrong turn around the longhorn dam and did a tour of some of the crappiest neighborhoods that East Austin has to offer while looking for the dam entrance. While doing this I couldn't help but think of the one and only time I'd been up around the dam before (Obviously, I was thinking about it, I was trying to remember where to go...). That was the first time I'd done 10 miles ever, I was with RO'D and KD, and I was hurting. It was long, I was tired, I was sore, and I struggled so hard to finish. I was pleasantly surprised by how different this was. I was good, I was happy, I was in this running zone where I wasn't even looking at the time, not the norm for me. Once on the south side of the lake I was headed directly into what I've since heard described as "gale force winds". I'm not sure if this is accurate, but it's pretty damn close. It was blowing so hard, and I was running up some hills on Lakeshore and Riverside that at one point I questioned whether I was making forward progress at all. In my last two miles I realized I was still running, I hadn't yet broken down into extended stretches of walking. I hadn't come up with reasons why it would be ok to stop, or excuses for why I was bad at this. By the time I finished I felt so good about my now 11-mile run and the morning in general that I almost didn't care about the time. It was certainly the best run I'd ever had. And the time, it was pretty great! The definition of a good day. I felt accomplished and a little more sure of being able to do this thing. Still nervous to stand alone at the starting line waiting to go, still wondering if I'll talk myself out of it.

This morning I woke up early to go out to the 3M half marathon. I wasn't running it, but I had signed up to be a volunteer - something I vowed to do after San Antonio. I was a course marshal and stationed for two hours on an entrance ramp near 360 directing runners on the course and away from the woods. It was freezing, and I was standing there all alone, but once the runner's started coming it was amazing to see. I was told I could go at about 8am, but I stood there for almost another half an hour to just watch and cheer and encourage. I saw a few people I knew, and "talked to" numerous that I didn't. On my way home I got caught up in the race route at a different point, and wasn't the least bit annoyed to be separated from the warmth of my bed for that much longer. I was surprised by the feeling I had, I was envious. I wanted to be out there running too. I wanted to be a part of the fun. I wanted to be running, because I am a runner. I'm a runner who has good days, and bad days. The end.

basketcase

2009-01-24T17:24:00.000-06:00

I was nervous to come back from my vacation to a cat who was angry and neglected. I had no idea I should expect her to be a complete nutjob. On the one hand, she has continued to sleep on my bed - a fact aided, I think, by the addition of my old comforter. It's been cold here at night, and I've dragged out an old, fluffier comforter for the bed. She's perfectly content snuggling up to that at night, and I'm perfectly happy to take whatever I can get!

On the other hand, she's displaying some anxiety problems. The last time she displayed significant signs of anxiety was right after Princess (my roommates cat) was put to sleep, and those symptoms re-emerged shortly thereafter, when our entire apartment was packed up and Stacey had moved out. At that time Mia sulked around and hid intently under Stacey's bed, for hours and hours at a time. I remember that Stacey kind of gave up and just started talking to Mia and telling her that it was going to be ok, that Princess had been sick and she was much happier now. Stacey told Mia that Princess hadn't done anything wrong, and that nothing was going to happen to Mia. It was then that Mia came out from under Stacey's bed.

For about a week Mia has been covering her food bowl with her blanket when she walks away from it. I noticed this habit slowly, sometimes I thought that the blanket ended up there accidentally, it is usually on the floor near where the food bowl goes. But, one day I watched it happen. Mia eats in shifts. She nibbles, takes a break, comes back for more. The entire process can take the entire evening for her to eat about 3 oz. of food. She had just finished her first little nosh-fest and she walked over to the blanket, pawed at it a few times, gripped it in her paw, and dragged it on top of her food dish. At first, I was just amazed...WHAT?! So A bit later I pulled it off, and she came back for more food after that. When I looked back next, the dish was again covered. So this cycle continued, and I kept removing the blanket, placing it further and further away from the dish each time. And she continually covered up the dish when she was done eating. I, of course, made fun of her and took pictures, but after 2 days of this I began to get concerned. I decided to take the blanket into another room for a while. And then, I broke out Stacey's style of therapy, and I began talking to her. We had a heart-to-heart (or so I think), and since then, the blanket has been returned and has remained off the dish. We're out of the woods....

...for now.

confessions

2009-01-11T17:15:00.003-06:00

There are a few of you who read this regularly who might not think I'm bat-shit crazy for what I'm about to admit. And there's one of you whom I bet has probably done the same thing before.

I was in a cleaning frenzy yesterday, I took down the christmas tree, I vacuumed the couch, I unpacked from my trip home, pretty basic. Until I broke out the Clorox Wipes. Then we know we are in trouble. After vacuuming I emptied and cleaned the canister and all the various filters (because they were gross) - however, the frenzy did not stop there. I clorox wiped the entire outside of the vacuum cleaner as well, because it looked like it needed it. And, this isn't the first time I've done that.

I know I'm not alone, who else is with me? And, if you're not - are you seriously satisfied using a dirty vacuum to clean your floors?! I wonder who is the one with the problem...

Now* accepting applications for My Biggest Fan!

2009-01-10T11:01:00.005-06:00

Sunday, February 15th 2009, 7am, Austin, TX. 13.1 miles. Everyone who's anyone will be there!

*I haven't technically registered yet, so don't go buying any plane tickets without checking with me first!

UPDATE (1/11/2009): I've registered. You've got 5 weeks to figure out how to be my biggest fan...

it could happen...

2009-01-05T23:51:00.002-06:00

Ya'll know, I love V-tek! I feel like I can more easily track down Colt McCoy (no matter how smokin' his girlfriend might be) and make him mine, seeing that I live on that same campus and all. I'll let you know how it turns out....

a lesson in counting

2009-01-03T10:52:00.005-06:00

I just got back from a few days in Boston, where I was fortunate enough to use my mom's car and a friend's vacant apartment. Here's the break-down:

Number of times I used my left foot for the brake: 2

Number of times I tried to shift the shifter while moving: 3

Number of times I tried to drive with the parking brake on, thinking I was simply stuck in the snow: 2

Number of times I tried to use my car key in my mom's car: 1

Number of times I set off the car alarm: 3

Number of parking tickets: 1

Number of times I cursed the fact that the windshield washer fluid shoots over the top of the car: 19

Number of times I could not figure out how to open the apartment/building door: 3

Number of times I understood what this thing was for: zero

Number of times I misplaced my wallet: 1

Number of phone conversations with Reid: 1

Number of good times had with friends: uncountable.

resolute

2009-01-02T09:17:00.007-06:00

If 2007 was a transition year, than I think the best title for a mostly non-descript two thousand and eight would be a year of growth. While it took slightly longer than I would have hoped, the differences are striking. Taken together, the last two years have prepared me for what I hope will be a great 2009, year of something better yet to come! Let's get to it already.

I think I'll miss you most of all, Scarecrow!

2008-12-28T12:33:00.001-06:00

Iz in yer beds
Originally uploaded by with an eye

It's been a great holiday week full of family and friends, however I can't help but miss my little pain in the butt. A friend of mine, LD, is watching Mia this week, and I've heard mixed reviews - confirming the diagnosis of probable bi-polarity, definite prissiness. The first day Mia was apparently the model of an affectionate kitty. She was cuddly and sweet, purring and begging to be pet. The very next day she hissed and swatted at poor LD as she tried to play with her. Apparently on yet a third day Mia was just kind of neutral - her usual lazy self, unwilling to get up to chase the laser but ok to move a paw if it came close to her. I wonder what LD is in for today?! Next week a SchoolFriend of mine will be checking in on her brattiness, and hopefully Mia has relaxed a bit and will show a more consistent front this time.

Just before I left she began sleeping on my bed again. She used to, every night. When we lived in Boston, the nights I wasn't home she'd sometimes go find Stacey's room and sleep there. Since we've moved down south Mia has yet to spend the night on my bed. She'll come up and say goodnight at some point, but she won't curl up like before. Until 3 weeks ago. And she was there, at the foot of my bed. And the next night, at the foot of my bed! Hopefully my little holiday vacation hasn't set us back too far. I mean, look at that cuddly face - I don't want another year and a half without her at the foot of my bed!

1,949 miles from land* (4eva)

2008-12-16T21:48:00.008-06:00

I read about this new book today, based on the blog of two friends who live three thousand one hundred and nintey-one miles apart. They each posted a picture every morning before 10am, for one whole year. And now it's become a book. (btw, don't we wish some other photo blogs could be books??)

I was reminded of that book tonight when I was talking to Allison, and while not a picture blog per say - we had an interesting little chat using ScribLink. No one else may even care about our whiteboard adventure, but it made me smile. Somehow it reminded me all at once of crazy conversations with the Stevens-Player clan about "your area of the dance floor" at Rivergods, and maple syrup races at free pancake day, and even a conversation about stenography (which I never did figure out by the way) over poker dice. I miss those crazy kids!

Our whiteboard of fun:

and a hello from Mr. Player:

*ok, so it should be miles apart, but come ON - I was writing miles apart, and miles from land(4eva) just slipped on out!! What was my reunion band name, Inches From Ocean?

sure, we mostly might be able to

2008-12-11T01:28:00.006-06:00

I had the tv on last night and it was either Jon Stewart or Stephen Colbert who was on, with a guest on the show. Whoever was on the tv made the point that our society is built on the "foundation of the marriage of a man to a woman". And I'd like to simply start with, really? Is it? And if so - if there are people who think that this is what our society is built upon - is it not time to change that, is it really working out all that well for us?

A little over a month ago Barack Obama was named the next president in what will forever be known as "an historical event", however in my circle at least, it was an event that did not overshadow the devastating outcome of various states issues, such as Prop 8*. I think one of the reasons I am so outraged by all of this controversy is because it seems like such a non-issue to me. And the fact that it is such a major emotionally loaded issue for so many is frightening. I can't envision what Earth-shatteringly horrific things might happen if all people were allowed to freely marry whomever they wanted. I'm not even sure I understand how it would change any one's day-to-day life (I mean, except for the gays, I can see how it changes for them!)

My main problem is I don't see the government needing to be involved in this issue at all. I don't see them as "protecting" anyone with laws banning gay marriage. Isn't that what laws are for, in their simplest form, to protect someone - be it me, or you, or some big corporation, or what have you. So exactly who is getting protected by making it illegal for all people to marry whomever they choose? And if it's not about protecting someone - then what is it? Is it a religious fight? One about 'the children'? Or is it just simple-minded fear? If it's any one of these things - why does the government need to have a say in it. How has it had a say in anything else related to these issues in the past?

Without going too far off the deep-end, which maybe I have already, I'd like to kick off the holiday season by asking good old Saint Nick to bring a little more open-mindedness tolerance to our society. It's so clear to me that we are fighting a fight that has been fought so many times in the past. Women fought for their rights, freedom, a voice, equality. And the blacks had to go through their own fight, for rights, freedom, a voice, equality. And now, there's a new group, with the same battle for rights, freedom, a voice, equality. How many times will we, as a society, go through this battle before we realize that different is not bad. Different is not undeserving. Different is not scary. Different does not need to be penalized.

*I'm hoping you've all already seen the Prop 8 musical, but if not - it's hilarious.

it's that day again

2008-11-26T09:16:00.005-06:00

Last year there was much build up for today, this year I feel ill prepared. I got up early to run this morning, I have to work all day, and I have not made a single list yet!! (well, ok, there was a list of recipe ingredients that was then made into a grocery store list - ordered by store aisle of course!)

I did my grocery shopping on Monday night, turns out I didn't need too much. And I only have 3 items left to get*. I was having trouble finding vegetable boullion - but Melanie assured me it exists. I found mushroom based "Better than Boullion", but blech I don't like mushrooms. She said also Knorr's makes a vegetable one. Now, the Knorr's at my HEB was way up high, and I saw chicken, and beef, and tomato chicken, and an empty space in between. I decided to scale the shelf and start digging. I was perched on the end of my shopping cart, clutching tightly to the shelf with one hand, and digging with the other. It was about this time that the shoppping cart slipped out from under my feet, and I was literaly dangling from the shelf. So I decided that I could stand on the second to the bottom shelf and it might be easier. I planted my feet, pulled myself up a little higher, and continued the search. Only to find out that the empty space wasn't even where the vegetable boullion belonged. Turns out that HEB didn't have any in stock. Tonight, to Randall's.

I'm only making "half" of a Thanksgiving dinner this year - since a SchoolFriend of mine and I are splitting the job. We're having it at her house (it's bigger), which also means I don't have to clean, or prepare for the onslaught of guests. That's the best part. I'll be making some breads, stuffing, cream of broccoli soup, and a dessert. I'll start in on most of it later today - but I've already made my pumpkin ice cream for the dessert. Feel free to follow my adventures photographically!

*I had 2 quarts of organic vegetable broth in my cart, for $2.73 each when I passed a display of regular HEB vegetable broth for $1.99. At that time I couldn't remember the price of the organic broth, so I doubled back to check, realized it was more expensive and put it back on the shelf. Then I began the climb up Mt. We-Don't-Have-Vegetable-Boullion, and forgot to triple back for the cheaper vegetable broth.

logical thinking

2008-11-25T22:34:00.003-06:00

I've made plans to run with my friend LD tomorrow morning. I was talking to RO'D this afternoon and I mentioned my intent to run for the first time since the race. His response:

Man, you don't even let the sheets get cold before you move on to someone else?

I was a bit confused and pointed out that he had run without me on Saturday and that I just needed a push to get back out again. His response:

I ran alone! Are you saying that you are justified in having an affair tomorrow because I masterbated on Saturday?

Dude, that's totally what I'm saying.

rock 'n' roll

2008-11-18T10:46:00.004-06:00

The day started at 5am, we were both up easily and quickly getting ready. On top of our normal running gear we pulled on some hospital scrubs*, skull caps, and $0.72 gloves to combat the frigid morning temperatures. The hotel we were at was full of other runners and the lobby was already bustling with camera crews, runners, fans, and volunteers. We grabbed some tubs of frozen OJ and headed to what we hoped was the closest shuttle to the start line. My nerves kicked in while we waited for the shuttle, and RO'D tried to chat with me, but I was mostly non-responsive.

We boarded the shuttle and headed for the StartLine Village. It was crazy. The heb was there with bagels and water and bananas, UPS was there for gear check, and about a bazillion other booths and tables (by the by, this is perhaps the best thing ever and should get filed under 'gifts for Jenni'!).

Technically we were in different corrals, because RO'D is super speedy and I...am not. But he was super generous and started back with the slowpokes so that we could start together. The gun went off somewhere in the distance, and we didn't move. We stood around in the cold waiting for a full 38 minutes. By the time our corral started I had to pee something fierce. Our first mile was good, about 11 minutes, and we were pumped by the very first band at mile one. Shortly after I made a pit stop to the port-a-pottie, and we were back on the road. RO'D pulled ahead at about mile 3 and I was left to my own. I was amazed at how quickly the miles went by. There was a small clusterf@*$ at the water station at mile 5, it was the one and only time I was met with anything less than the greatest of sportsmanship. A whole bunch of guys pushed me out of the way to get to the last three cups of cytomax, leaving me seemingly empty handed. One of the cytomax volunteers saw it, and got me the first cup of fresh COLD cytomax - take that karma-punks drinking hot cytomax!!

During the race I ran into a few of the women I trained with - it was nice to see them on the course and run a bit. I think we did the 5th mile together. Then I plugged in the iPod and started to jam out. If we could look at a breakdown of the individual miles, I think mile 7 might have been the fastest. Mel made a few CDs for me and it was about then that 4 minutes was followed by Low, followed by Kiss Kiss - well how can you not run that whole time. I loved having these CDs, made especially for me, while I was running. It made me feel like there was someone there cheering me on, it really helped!

Mile 10 was hard, and I walked more than ran. Mile 11 was better. And, I wasn't nearly as mad about the people at mile 12 who were yelling "You're almost there!" The entire course was flat, except for a hill they placed nicely after the mile 13 marker - bastards.

At 2:49:28 (chip time), I crossed the finish line.

The finish line was well stocked with snacks, drinks, stretching areas, and free beer. To put into perspective how I was feeling it took me 25 minutes to eat one banana, and another 25 minutes to finish one chewy granola bar. You can imagine how long we sat on the ground starring at some band while we enjoyed our free beers. After which we got up and walked (uh-huh, WALKED) back to our hotel. It was a slow walk, a disorganized, non graceful walk.

I plan to do the half marathon in Austin, but more importantly, I plan to volunteer for other marathons and halfs. I was blown away completely by the number of volunteers who were there just to pass me a cup of water, or make sure I had a warm aluminum foil blanket and a towel to keep me warm and dry when I was done. They were everywhere, doing everything, and really - more than anything else - I don't think we could have done it without them.

*borrowed

1:20:55

2008-11-08T11:54:00.003-06:00

This morning was the last long run before next weekend. We did 7 miles, and though it started off real rough, the low end of moderately cold, it ended up as a pretty solid run. As we ran RO'D asked me what my goal was for next weekend. I hate trying to chat while I run, mostly because I can't, but I managed to ask "Goal?" and looked at him puzzled. "To finish." I said, wondering if that was good enough. He said he hopes to finish under 2:10, and I was shocked. I hadn't even considered what a reasonable target time would be. I guess I'll be happy if I'm done in under 3 hours, but seriously - I think I'll just be happy if I finish. Whenever that is.

Half way through RO'D left me, as is our habit, and took off at his accelerated pace - which also meant it was time for me to slow down to my much slower pace (so much for a negative split). This left me with some time to think, not so much about my goal for the race - but, why I wanted to race. Running has never been my dream, I absolutely can't say I've always wanted to do this. I think my motivation is quite the opposite - I never wanted to do this. I never even considered it was possible.

I run for all the girls who weren't quite cool enough to be one of the cool kids, who weren't quite athletic enough to be an athlete, who weren't artistic enough to be an artist. I run for all the girls who were told they couldn't, who thought they shouldn't. I run for all the girls who were laughed at, who were afraid, who cried. I run because I don't have the time, but I make it. I run because it hurts, but I keep going. I run because I want to stop, but I don't. I run because I want one less thing to fail at.

An hour and twenty-one minutes after we started, I crossed the longest foot bridge there ever was, and met up with a waiting RO'D. He had been there for about 18 minutes, but as I neared the end of the bridge he was jumping and cheering for me. And then I was sure, all I really need is to cross the finish line next week.

I run for me, because I can.

Halloween '08

2008-11-07T09:10:00.003-06:00

star fleet commander and her trusty lego
Originally uploaded by with an eye

After such build-up, it's true. I failed. Due to some unfortunate camera malfunctions I was only able to get one picture from the entire evening. Even more unfortunate, the friend who took it for me barely managed to get my costume in the photo. So here you have it, a poor attempt to show off my costume as a red lego piece. I should point out that my friend in the picture with me is a Star Fleet Commander from Star Trek, and she made her costume on Halloween at school in between meetings. And, it was quite amazing!

assembly near completion

2008-10-30T21:07:00.004-05:00

assembly near completion
Originally uploaded by with an eye

Here's a great idea for next halloween, gather a bunch of random materials, photograph them, and ask your friends to guess what you're going to be - you'll get a lot of great ideas that way. So far, from my last picture I've gotten some great guesses:
mailbox
baseball
robot with hot red-cupped breasts
ketchup bottle
voting receptacle
bike pump

Only one person guessed correctly, but she had prior knowledge that totally gave it away. Here we are near completion, and after today's data blitz brilliance, I might be allowed a weekend.

troglodyte

2008-10-29T22:16:00.004-05:00

accoutrement
Originally uploaded by with an eye

I went across the street today to grab lunch, and I ran into a friend of mine. We stopped to chat, but it didn't last long. She quickly asked if I was ok, and as I stood their squinting in the unbearbly bright sun and overwhelmed by the sidewalk full of people, I thought, "no, I'm not". I've been living in my cave of an office for the past few days, rarely seeing the sunlight. I was ill-prepared.

Depending on the outcome of tonights data-blitz, I may similarly be stuck inside for much of the hallowed weekend. But, should I be allowed an escape, these materials will eventually become a costume!

a bit before 9am

2008-10-26T15:07:00.005-05:00

Saturday morning I woke up at 4:45am. Who wakes up at 4:45am? crazy people. I was supposed to leave my house by 5:45am, and I needed to give myself time to be more awake than sleepy when I actually left. It was our benchmark run, and I was anything but ready. I'd been hydrating all week, and my month long sobriety has certainly been helping. My feet, on the other hand, are a mess. Friday night I went to bed early, and just like last week, I woke up petrified. I mean, seriously, if I couldn't make it - how the hell do I get back? Once you leave, once you commit to a certain direction, don't you HAVE to finish? I mean, you'd have to at least WALK back right. Or curl up on the sidewalk for a bit. I admit to having visions of me needing to do the latter. But I got up, ate a banana and some toast, and got my gear on. I met up with my running group at 6:00, and we did some stretches, went over our route and we were off by 6:15am.

When we started it was pitch-dark, and as we hit the woods in the trail around Town Lake I couldn't see shit. There are many twists, turns, embankments and bridges along the trail, and several times I nearly wiped out. We must have spent the first 3 miles in this heavily wooded area and, in support of my general life philosophy, things just don't seem to count in the dark because I barely felt a thing. It was pretty cold, I was running in a long sleeved shirt for the first time ever, and my legs were freezing. Nothing like the 95+ temps I had learned to tolerate during my early morning runs this summer.

Our route took us all over the city, and up and down and up and down many torturous hills. At about Enfield crossing Mopac someone stopped to wonder how far we'd gone. My own guesstimation was about 5 miles at that point. The actual answer, a little over 7. Sweet baby Jesus, I love it when we're actually ahead of how I feel. This was going alright. Mile 9 was our second water stop, and perhaps we were stopped for too long, I had trouble getting going again. Around mile 10 I realized I was suffering from the same toe ailment I contracted last week, only this time in the homologous toe. And I won't lie, it hurt. Like hell.

As we ran down Congress, the LiveStrong 5k was just finishing up. As I was considering what would happen if I removed my toes right then and there, the last walkers of the 5K entered the finish area. One of them was a small boy, maybe 11 years old, using a walker, and obviously suffering from some profound physical disabilities. It was just the kick in the pants I needed to stop my own complaining, as a little toe pain is probably not that difficult to deal with. By the time I got back to TxDOT I was just happy to be done. It was a bit before 9am, and a bit warmer than when we started.

I can't say enough about the group of 8 women that I ran with. Even though at first we started off too slow, and made a bathroom break at about 1 mile, it was really their supportiveness that got me to the end in mostly one piece. Miles 9, 10 and 11 were a big struggle for me, but they didn't let me curl up on the sidewalk and die like I would have wanted. After I got home, the post-run pains started to set in, and I was mostly a mess for the rest of the day. I'm likely down two toenails, I have a blister, and a few other complications (that I hope will be prevented by something new I'll try next time). But in the end, it was much better than I had feared.

Two more runs left, shorter than this, and then San Antonio with 29,999 other participants. I'm starting to think I might be able to do this.

a lesson in probability

2008-10-24T20:50:00.003-05:00

nine out of ten times that I come up to my front door I push the "unlock" button on my car clicker and expect that something useful will happen. zero out of nine times has anything useful happened.

there's always next year

2008-10-20T11:22:00.006-05:00

I can't even express how much I hate that sentence. I remember, with excruciating detail, one night in October 2003. I was living in my 2-room studio in Waltham, and in my mind I can still see that bedroom. My desk was over in the corner, and my white dresser that I had owned since I was ten was at the foot of my bed. The TV sitting on top of it. I was over to the right of the bed, between it and the window standing, yelling. I was on the phone with a friend of mine who lived in Buffalo for law school. The law library had kicked them out before the game was over, it was after midnight by this point, and she needed a play-by-play. I remember telling her in detail everything that was going on, I was yelling and screaming from the pure joy. Until. We all know how it ended. And I was speechless. I could barely get out the words to tell her what happened. I was now crumbled onto the floor under the window of my bedroom making noises that I hoped she could decipher. I'm not sure I ever told her the exact play - but she heard the tears and pain with which I tried to get it out, and she understood. Soxtober was over. And we'd have to man-up and tell ourselves "There's always next year".

I consider myself lucky that in much the same fashion I remember in excruciating detail that next year, 2004. I remember October 27th 2004 pretty vividly. I remember how quiet it got right at that last play. The chop back to Foulke, the toss to Minky, and then the impossible happened. It was over. The next .3 seconds lasted forever, everyone was silent as we processed what just happened. And then, pure joy! I had been watching with friends who live very close to fenway and we quickly flooded, with the masses, into Kenmore Square. I saw the red full moon, I saw the riot squad, I saw the crowds. I saw the city of Boston breath a collective sigh of relief, since we would never again have to say "There's always next year." Because, in fact, there was finally this year!

I watched last night, Soxtober ended early again. Maybe it's because I live so far away now, I feel like watching the Red Sox somehow connects me to a time that I am very comfortable remembering. But, I wanted them to win. Bad. And as every true Sox fan did, I sat wide-eyed, open-mouthed, clench-fists as that stupid Tampa Bay Ray jumped triumphantly on second base just before being pummeled by the rest of his team. I watched as V-tek packed up his bag and headed out of the dug out, wondering, will there be a next year? I watched as Coco and Pedy lingered in the dug out, starring out at the Tampa Bay celebration. I watched for about 3 minutes after the last out was made, then I headed home, without a word.

This morning, I feel a bit differently. I don't want to say "There's always next year.", I want to relive some of this one. It was a long, good season. Those boys gave us some friggin' great baseball. And, even injured and tired and behind, they fought like dirtdogs until the end. And, in the end, there was someone else who came out on top. Watching them celebrate last night, I was at once both enraged and awestruck. That team has one of the lowest salaries in the sport, they came straight from the bottom to the top, and they are about to do something for their club, for their town, that has never been done before. So today, with Soxtober over, I can say - Damn, that's impressive. I am excited for them, all those jumping fools who beat my team. And I will watch the World Series. And I will root for The Rays. Because, there's still this year.

what the kids are reading these days

2008-10-15T23:53:00.005-05:00

First there's this:

I gave a copy of this paper to my bus driver today, just so he can make informed decisions next time.

Then, we have this gem:

Clearly, this graph shows that people who appreciate culinary value and have only one apple require a boatload of bananas in order to be happy.

And finally, all I can say about this is:

TROGDOR!!!! Burninating the countryside...

2008 ALCS Game 2: a text message retrospective

2008-10-12T21:42:00.004-05:00

Top of first, Jason Bay 2 out 2 RBI double.

JP (to SH, NH, CH, JK, RO'D):Manny who?

SH: Exactly!

NH: What happened? Waiting on bus to take me home.

JP (to NH): Papi walked. Youk single. Bay 2 rbi double. Lowrie walked. V tek strike out. 2-0 Sox mid first.

Top of first, Jason Varitek strikes out to end the inning.

SH: Sorry, but tek sucks when not catching

JP (to SH): Omg...i totally know!

Sometime later...

NH: Gd still no bus.

EP: Sox!

Bottom of second, Evan Longoria 2 run homer.

JP (to NH): Tb just got a two run homer. Tie game. F F F

JP (to SH): Well....CRAP!

Top of third, Dustin Pedroia hits a solo homerun.

JP (to SH): Mvp!

SH: I heart him!

CH: Pedroia!

JP (to CH): Mvp!

End of third, Tampa Bay 2-run inning.

JP(to SH): Are you kidding me?

SH: I know. But lets be positive. Still early, right? They make me nervous

JP (to SH): Still early for sure! Plenty of time :)

JP (to NH): Rays lead 4-3 2 outs bot 3. Doing replays is making me angry!

EP: WTFUuuuuuuudge?

JP (to EP): We can has better pitching?

Top of fifth, Dustin Pedroia hits a solo homerun.

NH: Sweet!

(apparently made it on a bus!)

JP (to CH): Dude, I heart pedroia!

Kevin Youkilis follows with a solo homerun.

CH: Youk!

JP (to CH): I heart him too :)

Jason Bay follows with a solo homerun.

CH: I heart bay!

SH: What was that Manny? Don't worry we don't need you! We love bay. What a nerve wracking game!

Sometime in the bottom of the fifth when Beckett was giving up runs left and right.

JP (to SH): Get him out of there!

SH: I don't like this. Too nervous

JP (to SH): Seriously...but it seems anything can happen this game!

SH: I wish you were here and we were watching the game together! miss you. We can still do this.

(admittedly, this was my favorite text of the whole night!)

JP (to SH): I wish I were there too!

JK (in response to my very first text): But we do need to know who beckett is

JP (to JK): Unfortunately i think we know...not good.

Top of 8th, Papi strikes out again.

JP (to SH): What happened to mr. october?

Top of 8th, Pedroia steals home on a wild pitch.

CMP: tied!!

JP (to CMP): Ya :) Pedroia

Sox bring in Masterson.

SH: F@#$!

And then Papelbon.

JP (to SH): why paps now? If extra innings we need him later.

Tampa Bay wins off of Mike Timlin.

phone convo between me and RO'D at the end of the game, 12:36am:

him: I saw

me: what a waste of 6 hours

him: yup

me: TIMLIN.

him: ya

me: they wasted paps

him: ya

me: I gotta sleep.

him: yes.

me: better to go to Boston 1-1 then down 2.

him: for sure. better.

me: f@#$!

him: f@#$!

(what I love about this is, this is how it went. I called him. There was no "hello" and there was no "goodbye". Just this.)

sidewalk scenes and black limousines

2008-10-12T14:06:00.010-05:00

I went for a run this morning, a longer run than I've ever done before. In retrospect, I've come a long way. I was never a runner. If we go way back to when I was younger, I've always had some knee, foot, shin trouble. Don't let anyone tell you that being short doesn't come with it's own special set of problems. My knees used to hurt all the time when I was little, something about growing pains without the growth. My ankles click all the time, something about a growth gap that never closed and air slips out. I have fallen arches, which used to cause my feet to "get tired" really easily. It's these arches that caused the hip pain in late April, keeping me out of the running game for a few months.

This morning I ran farther than I've ever run before, but still far short of the 13.1 I'm going to have to run in a month. I was scared this morning, I had trouble getting out the door, I wanted to quit. But. I didn't. Thanks to my Dad I have some new equipment (ohh, ahhh) and no longer have to carry my huge ancient broken mp3 player. And thanks to the people over at RunTex and the water stations they set-up each weekend, I didn't have to carry any water. I enjoyed the freedom of running with empty hands and tunes blasting along a Town Lake loop. I still don't run well. I start off too fast, and die out too soon. I started with two 15/1's, but then I had to switch to 10/1's. I left my right leg* somewhere around mile 5 and I was definitely doing something worse than 8/2's at that point. By the end there were certainly some 1/4's happening. There was a lot of 'please, just can you make it one more minute', 'please, can you make it to that bridge' and a lot more 'Oh, f@#%!' when I finally gave up and walked.

But once I got back to the Mopac bridge none of that mattered, because I made it and I was still standing. For the first time I had a glimmer of hope that I can actually do this. Which is good, because I paid for it, and I've given up beer in order to train. And if you know me at all there are two things I hate to see wasted, money and beer. Particularly at this time of year!!

*For those of you who are paying attention, I did say my right leg, and it had been my left hip that was ailing before. It seems that all the attention to the left leg has made the right leg feel neglected, and now it's crying out for help. I have a bit of pain when I run, but sometimes if I can run through it it goes away - or I learn to ignore it better. I'm fairly certain I know what's causing it, and I've already gotten the appropriate things to try and fix it.

kitshickers or death

2008-10-08T13:25:00.003-05:00

Once again, I've lapsed into silence about our kickball team. Mostly because...we suck. We lost the last two games, the most recent one in embarrassing fashion (20-4). That said, I love this team. I will go down with this team. We could use some work, we need some new strategies. Perhaps we can start by avoiding things like this devastatingly embarrassing play - by yours truly.

I was up at the plate, totally completely ready to kick the ball. I mean, all my practice kicks pre-game had gone anywhere but the direction I intended, but...I was ready. I took a few steps and WHAM. I skimmed the top of the ball and it did a sad little pathetic roll about a foot in front of me. I stood, embarrassed by my lack of power, and watched as it rolled slowly over the "girl-bunt-line". Holy crap that's a fair ball, holy crap I need to be running to first. Friggin, I am worse than Manny. I start running, sure they are going to pick up the ball and throw me out, but by the grace of the kickball gods, they bobbled it or something and I made it safely to first. Phew, you're saying, right? Embarrassment over. Ha, we're just beginning 'my friends'. RO'D is the first base coach, and for the next kick he tells me to "GO GO GO", but I don't, because I could tell it would be caught. It was. I am a superhero for not listening! So the next kicker is up, LD kicks the ball, somewhere between 1st and 2nd. I'm off and running. They pick up the ball and now I am running directly towards a guy holding the ball. So, instinctively I - what?! yes! - I crouch to the ground and cover my face. So sure this guy is just going to tag me and throw LD out too. While on the ground I hear RO'D screaming something FIERCE. "Jenni, RUN!" I peek up, look around, that guy and the ball...not near me. I quickly stand up and start to run again, only to be going in somewhat the wrong direction before turning 90 degrees back towards 2nd. Where, again thanks to the kickball gods, I was safe. Now, I'm on second, and RO'D kicks a far one, I'm off and running...only to mostly miss touching 3rd base on my way by (I did get it, not gracefully as you can imagine) and made it home to score one of our 4 runs.

The point of this is not solely to display my lack of skill or bonehead moves. More so that you will understand the state of the team, because I don't lie when I say - I'm not even the worst one.

Kitchickers, Richard Moya Park field #3, this Thursday, 7pm CDT. Nowhere to go but up!

I love that dirty water

2008-10-07T00:59:00.001-05:00

It can't go unmentioned, the excitement that was Monday night's ALDS victory. The old roomie and I discussed the state of Sox fans - new vs old, real vs. bandwagon. The new, bandwagoners, likely felt no fear on Monday. They likely sat back thinking, we'll do it, we always do it. The old, real fans. We bit our nails down to our fingers. We, of course, yelled when Masterson gave up Lester's lead. But even before that we yelled that a 2 run lead was not enough. We needed more security. We know how quickly it can all change. And it did.

I was sitting at a bar in Austin with my parents and when they brought in Manny Delcarmen (with a runner on third, the go ahead runner) I began to panic. In an attempt to lighten the mood I suggested that there be a new rule to baseball, you know to spice it up. I began proposing that the incoming pitcher could elect to remove one base-runner from a base. You know, just because. It's not always fair, the situations they have to come in to. As I was formulating my argument, it seems that V-tek was on the same wavelength as me. He managed to catch that runner on third in the sweetest pickle I've seen in a while. As the runner glanced back to watch for V-tek's throw to Youk, he realized he was much closer to Tek than he thought. he ran for third, but Tek ran faster and tagged him out - right on the bum! Awesome. Totally awesome.

And then they won. With a whole new crowd of winners. Jason Bay. Jed Lowrie. It really warms the heart of an old fan, that the new kids are so quickly and deeply entrenched in Sox history. And now we wait, the old fans, for Friday. Tampa Bay. We wait and wonder - do I have enough Tums to get through this series? Myself, I'm going to have a pre-ALCS MRI scan tomorrow, so we can monitor the development of any dangerous aneurysms. But I still say - bring it Tampa Bay. Bring it, we're totally mostly somewhat ready!

Didn't Leave Nobody But The Baby

2008-10-04T15:12:00.001-05:00

I drove by Zilker Park today, there was a group of people playing soccer, a pretty typical scene. Although not even a week ago that spot was where the AMD stage for this years ACL festival was located. Looking at an empty Zilker today I was really in awe of the transformation it underwent.

Last weekend a record-breaking crowd* poured into Zilker for three days full of music. NH has done a better job than I will of detailing the three days. I will say, it was a fun time. Despite the heat, the crowds, the invasive dust-bowl, the too much beer, the not enough water, and the growing grumpiness that being hot and tired brings, I had a blast. I was glad to spend the few days with some friends who had come in from out of town, and with some Austin friends who were totally down for hanging out (as opposed to the other crew who hid indoors for three days!)

The natural question is to ask what my favorite show was, and it's hard to say. I can break it down better this way...

favorite show to collect recyclables to (simultaneously saving the planet and earning a free t-shirt): Hot Chip

favorite new show that was highly recommended: The Black Keys

favorite non-stop party: Manu Chao

favorite female artist: Gillian Welch

favorite group to sit on the ground to listen to: Blues Traveler

favorite strung out on heroin goup: The Raconteurs

Although, there were so many others. I'm tired just trying to remember them!

*I heard someone say 300,000 people, but then I'm fairly certain the had no idea what they were saying.

she feels like kicking out all the windows...

2008-09-19T14:15:00.001-05:00

ominous
Originally uploaded by with an eye

Some days are just too full of crap for the new way of life to be feasible. It's those days that I prefer to just wallow in the atrocities and horror that I'm powerless to stop. Yesterday was one of those days.

I've been keeping up on the Ike devastation and this morning I read about this. I applied to be a Red Cross volunteer today. It hasn't made me feel any better about anything, nor did I expect it to. But maybe someday I'll do something that will make a difference somewhere, to someone. And then, I'll feel less helpless.

The Kickball Diaries: a brand new season.

2008-09-16T16:06:00.005-05:00

Week 2. Kitshickers vs Lawn Mowing Fever
Game Time: 9/11/2008, 6:30pm
Game Conditions: hot, humid, dusty.
Result: L 3-9
Record: 0-1-1

Kitshicker's showed some dedication this week as we all rolled out to Richard Moya Park at about 5:30pm for our first ever catching practice. As coach said in his email: "PLEASE attend this practice if you suck at catching fly balls." Needless to say I was one of the first ones there. Coach starts the practice off by saying "I think first I'll just throw this ball at you" at which point he absolutely pegs me at the knees. I stand, dumbfounded, staring at him and then the other members of Team Suck. Coach says "Oh, sorry Jenni, I meant to throw that more at your head!" As if that makes it better. So I raised my hand, "Coach, exactly WHAT are we practicing?" And he looked straight into my eyes and said "Jenni, you are supposed to CATCH it". A-ha, and we're off to a fantastic start!

Coach promised that in 20 minutes we'd be pros, and dude was nearly right. I mean, I was certainly catching much better than normal. I was not using any of his helpful advice "you need to learn to know where it's going as soon as it leaves my foot and get there immediately", "use your body", "get under it", "OPEN YOUR EYES!" - each ball I caught my eyes were squinted shut, the ball was dangling dangerously away from my body, and I'd spent the last 5 seconds of it's descent running in pretty large circles trying to figure out where to be. But, I would catch it. That's what matters, right?!

The draw back of practice before the game is tri-fold. One, it was hot as hell, and we all needed lots more water than we'd brought. Two, I got a little bored - honestly...catching fly balls for an hour, not the most fun I've ever had. And three, it was hot (it seems the hottest time of day in Austin is somewhere around 4-6pm and we're out in the midst of that in an open field directly in the sun....Zzzzzzz)

The game started and we were off to an ok start, until the other team scored a bajillion* runs. We spent a bunch of time in the field running after them around the infield. It was like, 3 people tried to catch the ball, then tried to throw to first. Once the ball arrived at first, the runner was on the way to second, but the throw was off...so the first baseman had to retrieve the ball and throw to second. But, the seccond baseman was assuming the throw would go to third, since thats where the runner was headed, so the ball is now back in the outfield. Lazy outfielders scramble to get the ball to third, but the runner is nearly home now. Imagine that...times 9. I recommended a fielding practice, but coach told me that if we would catch the balls there'd be no need for fielding. Coach has a point, but...a back-up plan has never hurt anyone.

The best/worst part was that the other team had no subs. What they did have, however, was one stroller-bound baby and two small dogs. In their first inning in the field the baby stayed in the stroller (unattended) and one puppy was tied to the stroller. The catcher was holding the other puppy. After two such innings the baby was NOT happy any longer, and so for the rest of the game the catcher was holding the baby and one puppy. And we still lost. Horribly.

The highlight of the game, for me, was the inning where I made all three outs. Hells ya, catching practice. The call of the game would have gone something like this:

High fly to right field, Jenni's there and makes a beautiful catch for the first out! A bunt attempt, first baseman in to field the ball, underhands to Jenni covering first, runner out! Deep fly to right field, superhero Jenni is under it and makes her signature closed-eyed catch to end the inning. And the crowd goes wild.

Or, at the very least...I went wild. Coach probably muttered something similar to "about friggin time" under his breath. After our disappointing loss, and braving the Ike traffic, we had some well deserved $2 beers at Doc's!

*estimation

a new world order

2008-09-10T17:54:00.006-05:00

So, I woke up yesterday morning.

Which I guess means the world didn't end. I was surprised by how unexcited I was to find this out. I mean, not that I'm for the destruction of the universe, but it certainly would have made some of my stressors go away (unread papers, crap-for-data, odds stacked against me for graduating anytime soon). After another day of dealing with these issues, I decided that the non-apocalyptic state of current affairs was calling for a fresh new outlook on life. Allow me to introduce you to the "A glass half full is better than a glass quarter full" way of life. It goes something like this:

Finding an error in your data a week before your presentation is better than NOT finding the error.

Graduating in ten years is better than NOT graduating.

Running a crappy 2.5 miles in 30 minutes is better than NOT running 2.5 miles.

The Red Sox falling a game further out of first place is better than the Red Sox falling a game further out of wild card.

I mean, some people might call this Cognitive Restructuring, but it works! I'm going to write a book about it, and sell it, for lots of money. Because writing a book for money is better than not having money.

The Kickball Diaries: A brand new season

2008-09-05T23:44:00.004-05:00

Week 1. Kitshickers vs Rehab's for Quitters
Game Time: 9/4/2008, 7:20pm
Game Conditions: not nearly as hot as it could have been, but still dang hot.
Result: T 4-4
Record: 0-0-1

We showed up with socks, not just any socks, but matching socks. And we were 100% compliant with the socks - until they began to get too hot, and started cutting off the circulation of our particularly big-calf-muscle teammates. But even then, they had the socks just pushed down. We showed up with a soundtrack, 11 songs of pure kickball inspiring rock. Unfortunately, we were unable to play our soundtrack - and thus, the beginning of our decline.

We took the field first, and I was out in my right field spot. After some pre-game catching practice from FA, the rest of the outfield (BK, and myself) were ready. "get under it" "get behind it" "use both arms" "if you can't catch it set it for yourself" "use your chest" These were the helpful tips running through my head. The other team quickly scored 3 runs. And it looked like we were off to a rough start. But, our first turn at bat, and we answered back with 3 runs. I made it on base this inning, but got thrown out while running to second. Darn.

Our second time out in the field and it was like a new ball game. Somewhere in the 5th inning I kicked the ball in my usual fashion, low and not towards first. In this instance we had the bases loaded, so I tried to aim away from third as well. I managed that, it went somewhere towards 2nd, and that runner was out. But, I was safe at first, and R'OD was safely home. And we're up, 4-3.

We took the field for the final inning, ahead, and got two quick outs. Two strikes into the third out R'OD turns to me from first and says "One strike away". R'OD being a sox diehard like myself should know better. They kicked us around a bit, we made some silly plays, and they managed another run before we got another out. So we go up to kick the last time, tied for the billionth time in our life, wanting to do nothing but NOT tie. And we came up short.

All in all, the first game of the season wasn't a total disaster - I mean, after our perfectly 500 season in the spring yet another tie is like nails on a chalkboard. But, we did not get crushed, we held our own, and lost it tragically right at the end.

Nature Neuroscience, here I come

2008-09-05T11:06:00.005-05:00

It appears I have uncovered the network of regions responsible for making accurate, but weakly confident, source memory judgments. And damn if it doesn't use up a lot of resources in the brain. I'm confident this will go straight to publication...no peer review here.

put me in coach

2008-09-03T23:56:00.002-05:00

The big day is nearly here, our first game! All the preparations have been made, the roster is set (I kick 6th, play RF), the soundtrack has been made (11 songs of pure kickball energy), the uniforms have been acquired (knee socks with black stripes, OH YES!), and the beer has been boughten (cans of Lone Star, for sure). The excitement builds...here's hoping we can all sleep tonight!

eighty-dollars later...

2008-09-01T23:59:00.000-05:00

I'm registered for my first half marathon, and what a marathon it looks to be. We get admission to a concert after the race, and there are promised to be 70 live bands along the route - it is the San Antonio Rock n' Roll after all!

ghetto is the new green

2008-08-30T14:25:00.003-05:00

(partial conversation that I had with a friend in the stairwell at school)

me: I ended up at the dollar store last night, and you know what I realized
her: um, what?
me: I am NEVER paying more than a dollar for cleaning supplies again.
her: ?
me: I bought some Comet, for a dollar. Some Dawn, for a dollar. And Resolve, for a dollar! This would have cost me fifteen at Target. Never again, a dollar for everything
her: well...
me: I mean, it has to be the same stuff in that bottle, and hell - the Comet totally made my bath tub sparkle.
her: well, ya, I've been trying to use all environmentally friendly cleaning products lately. I feel better about it.
me: well, I've been trying to buy groceries lately, I feel better when I eat.

What I learned on my summer vacation.

2008-08-21T19:24:00.008-05:00

Studying for quals is:

...bad for my ego.
...bad for my diet.
...bad for my skin.
...bad for my sleep.
...bad for my brain.
...bad for my sanity.
...but somehow, good for my running. 3 times this week, two good hips.

(oh, and I learned a bit of stuff about the hippocampus, prefrontal cortex, and supposedly how my memory works. We'll see if they're right about that!)

Thanks to those of you who have put up with my whining, insanity, feelings of doom, hermit-ism, and whatever else I've been doling out! And, for all the encouragement! I feel ready to kick this thing in the rear. T minus 14 and a half hours. Then, beer.

on the road again

2008-08-16T20:29:00.008-05:00

I went for a run tonight.

That sounds like less than earth-shattering news, but it's been about 3 months since I've been able to run. I can certainly thank the start of today's Olympic women's marathon as my inspiration (also, Michael Phelps(swoon), Aaron Peirsol, Dara Torres, Libby Trickket, Guo Jingjing, Nastia Liukin, Misti and Kerri...). Technically, I don't think I'm supposed to be running yet, and supposedly I took it slow. But, damn did it feel good to get out there again. I forgot how much I like it. I forgot how peaceful and nice my neighborhood is, and how much I need that alone time to just run and not think! Originally my goal was to just go one mile - but thanks to Sandi Thom*, Death Cab, Jeff Buckley**, City and Colour, and The Beatles - it was too hard to stop. I completed my 4 mile loop, with a considerable amount of walking, and came inside to stretch! I didn't even mind the rain that came in somewhere between miles 2 and 3. My new shoes are awesome, and I feel alright now. Tomorrow might be a different story.

I don't know if I can declare it over, but I think it's safe to say, I see the light at the end of the perpetual funk I've been in lately!

*If I can bring along some tunes(teeny tiny mp3 player that straps to my arm is dead, and super huge mp3 player is in a word un-portable) when I run whatever portion of the San Antonio Rock and Roll I can muster, this song will be strategically placed about every 15 minutes or so. It seems impossible not to get pumped with this in your ear.

**I was unable to let myself listen to this song for a long time, and then much like everything else, by way of OSOM, it was forgotten. It popped into the playlist unexpectedly today, and at the risk of sounding like a sap, I don't think it's a coincidence that it was what pushed me up my last hill. I really love this song, it's good for the soul.

UPDATE (8/17/2008): My hip feels ok. I stretched a little after running, and then again before going to bed. This morning my hip feels fine, but my quads. Holy hard-as-rocks batman! I've already stretched them out 3 times, and they are a little better. But, dang...my PT would not be impressed, and it seemed there wasn't much about my legs he was unhappy with.

on the move

2008-08-10T20:25:00.005-05:00

It seems that everyone I know is moving. Three of my Austin friends have just moved into new houses, JimBo has moved from NoLA to Hartford, two of my Boston friends have new digs as well. And then, of course, NH is westward ho, and MP is eastward bound (admittedly, I'm much more excited about MP's destination than I am about NH's!) It's been a full year since I made my own cross-country trek, and I find myself re-nesting. When I first got here I would come home every day with something new to hang up, decorate, or further make this place feel like home. And I did a great job. And now, a year later, knowing I'll be staying in this apartment for at least one more year - I find myself doing it again.

It started small, I redid my bed frame, I purchased a new vacuum. Then, last week, Willie Nelson followed me home. Last night I took down my wine glass racks, hung a spice rack, and re-hung the wine glass racks on the other side of the kitchen. Now today, I bought a new plant, a plastic bag organizer, a drawer for the cabinet my pots and pans are in, some storage containers for the bathroom cabinets, and canisters for flour and sugar. My grand plan still has at least two more steps to it, one more financially involved than any so far. But, I am running out of time, summer is quickly coming to an end and I will have to start thinking about school again.

The Off-Season

2008-08-09T15:36:00.004-05:00

It's true, I gave up on posting about the KitShickers about one or two games too early. We ended out our season with a 3-2-2 record, and no hopes of making the finals. I've spent my offseason mastering the fine art of physical therapy, which I successfully graduated this week. I was "diagnosed" with IlioPsoas Tendonitis, and have been unable to run since sometime in early June. When I began PT the doc instantly pointed out my flat feet as the original cause, but indicated that my tight quads, IT band, calves, along with a significant decrease in range of motion throughout my hips and knees were keeping me in pain. He prescribed a regimen of stretching, and some combination ice/heat therapies for the iliacus tendon. This week, for the first time since I've been going, the heel from each foot was able to reach my butt - and thus, I was discharged. Only after agreeing to continue stretching for the rest of my life. Along with some new kicks and hot arch supports, I'm ready for action....sometime. Currently I'm only allowed to swim, which I've been doing as often as I can. In a few weeks I'll see the sports med doc again, who will recommend when and how I can get back to running. Since I'm now severely behind on my training.

And it looks like I've healed just in time. The Kitshickers are back, and ready for some fall-ball. We debated a name change, ROD said 'if it ain't broke don't fix it', however DI and LD and some others agreed, 'maybe it IS broke' - but we decided to stick with Kitshickers for one more season.

We've got a plan - there will be a kicking practice, and a catching practice. There will be team knee socks, and at-bat songs. There will be beer, and lots of Rudy's BBQ plastic cups. There will be winning, lots and lots of winning.

Stay tuned!

this is why i'm hot

2008-08-01T08:05:00.003-05:00

Just to reiterate to all those of you in New England, when I said it's hot here - it's hot here. Last night I was coming back from feeding a friends cat at 11:30pm, and the thermometer on my car read an accurate 96 degrees.

ambivalent

2008-07-30T09:02:00.007-05:00

I think most often the word ambivalent is misused or at least confused with the word indifferent. Instead of having no opinion at all, being ambivalent means that you have two conflicting opinions about one thing. I find myself packing (AGAIN!) this morning, I've been visiting my parents in Rhode Island for the last week, and am heading back to Texas this afternoon. I'm amazed by my inability to deal with the overwhelming sense of ambivalence I have. In the same breath I'm excited to return to Austin, and sad about leaving New England behind again. And why shouldn't I be.

It's been a great week, so many friends and family packed in to 7 short days. It's a little tough to deal with the rollercoaster of saying good-bye to someone again, and being excited to see someone else for the first time about 4 minutes later. It gets to the point where you're just excited for a return to your regularly scheduled life. Until plane day, when you realize you really do like these people here!

Someone very wise asked me yesterday, 'is there no middle ground?' and unfortunately, I don't always find it. Days like today it's the hardest - but (thanks AS), I've begun to look for that middle ground. So, instead of being sad to leave I'm just going to bask in the glow of all the wonderful people and things I've seen and done this week. The take home message from this trip is, I have a set of the world's greatest friends - from everywhere. I mean, seriously, does it get better than this?

Oh, and to top it off - I won't be hung over for my 2-hour layover in Newark today. It's a weird feeling to fly like this, but...I think I'll be modeling my flight nights after last night from now on.

someone's gotta clean up around here

2008-07-10T11:59:00.000-05:00

My second job as crime-fighting superhero started a little over a week ago, in fact on my birthday. We’d finished dinner and post-dinner drinks, and everyone was heading home. We’d all parked in roughly the same spot and were still standing around the sidewalk chatting and saying goodbye. We heard a screeching crunch and I looked up just in time to witness a large black SUV sideswipe a small parked car and bumble on down the road. RO’D was already in his car, so we sent him after the SUV and he called back with the license plates and make/model of the car. A friend and I wrote a little note and left it on the parked car, hoping that the karma from this act would protect our cars on future downtown visits.

A few days later I was at the dog park with Sukka, LR, and Kibbie, when my second crime-fighting superhero opportunity arose. On our way out we saw a woman sitting on the ground crying. It was on second glance that we realized she was surrounded by luggage. LR and I hesitated a bit, unsure of what to do or say to this woman. Another man also was lingering, so we all approached her. Turns out she was from out of town, had been “dropped off” at the dog park, and was not flying out until the following evening – from Houston. We tried to calm her down a bit, offered her some suggestions as to how she could get to Houston, where she could stay, and drove her to a Starbucks so she could get some coffee and make her phone calls. It was one of the strangest interactions I’ve had in a long time.

And then, yesterday morning I stopped to get a bagel for breakfast on my way in to school and as I parked my car I noticed a woman on the ground behind her mini-van. I got out and went over to see what was wrong. I’m still unsure how she ended up on the ground, but she was handicapped and was trying to get her motorized chair into the back of the van, and had somehow made it to the ground and was having trouble getting up. This was one of those situations I hate, as I was unsure of exactly WHAT to do to help her try and get up. (Sometimes I have the same trouble when I try and help my grandmother maneuver around – where is my arm, grip, strength actually most beneficial??) I first moved her coffee cup, which seemed in the way, and then I helped get the chair into the van. By this point a rather tall man came over to offer some help, and he was much better at actually getting her up off the ground. After just a few minutes she was up and on her way, and we were headed inside to get bagels.

We’ll see what crime-fighting superhero adventures today brings, until then I’ll be designing my superhero costume – any suggestions?

we will never forget (again).

2008-07-10T08:46:00.003-05:00

I can't believe I'm about to admit this publicly, but more so, I can't believe it happened. To me. And a friend of mine. I'm basically speechless, and horrified. And, while I know this post may disappoint some (Mom, Dad, brace yourselves) I feel that the public service announcement may help to prevent other people from falling into the same trap.

I play trivia on Tuesdays with some friends. This week there was a baseball question: Who hit a three run home run on the opening game at Yankee Stadium. Our guess was Babe Ruth, but I was unsure. I wasn't sure what year Yankee Stadium was built, I was thinking it was before the Babe was a Yank. As I was trying to put out this argument (to my very NON-baseball teammates) *it* happened. I said:

When was Yankee Stadium opened, because Babe was traded in 1908.

As soon as I said it, it didn't sound right. I couldn't believe it. I could no longer remember that dreaded year - the last time the Sox won the series (I mean, the last time before two times ago). I sat there searching my brain for that year, killing myself to try and remember. One of my teammates even looked over to ask if i was ok. No, definitely not ok.

I instantly texted 3 of my red sox loving friends and admitted my forgetfulness:

OMG! I can't remember the year the Sox won the Series before 2004!

I decided that I could figure it out, and quickly calculated 2004 minus 86, and came to the correct answer. As soon as I figured it out, I got an answer back from RO'D and all it said was:

1927?

As a devoted member of Red Sox Nation, I am thoroughly disappointed in the ease with which we have forgotten those horrid chants, those damn yankee fans that thought they could taunt us with our curse, that 86 years before 2004 the Boston Red Sox were the 1918 World Series Champions!

we're gonna sip bacardi...

2008-07-01T12:12:00.004-05:00

If I had to break things down, I think 26 was my favorite year, although 17 is up there. And 21 was pretty alright too. 23 was definitely the worst. And, where does 27 fit in? Somehow, I think it doesn't. It was a year not like any others. It was marked with change and resistance and growth. A combination I'm not sure I've been able to muster in the past. Instead of marveling over myself though (I do that enough I think), I'd like to take this moment to thank everyone. My family, and my friends - both new and old - for going through this transitional year with me. I feel so incredibly lucky and special today. Before noon this morning I'd heard from friends from high school, college, and grad school. People from Rhode Island, Boston, DC, and Austin. I've heard from people who've known me since I was 12, and people who just met me last month. It's really eye-opening and heart warming to have so many wonderful people share my life with me. So thank you! Here's to 28!

my dad

2008-06-30T07:38:00.004-05:00

While I may have missed Fathers Day by a few weeks, I’d like to take a moment to discuss my dad – he’s one of the greatest dads I know, and he deserves a little discussing. Mainly, I’d like to discuss what I do when I fly on planes, and I’d like to relate it directly to my father, who taught me everything I know. It starts when I’m allowed to select my seat. Dad, do you know where I always sit? Of course you do, same place you would if you could. Window seat above the wing. Why? So I can look out and see the wing work as we take off and land. The intricacies of the flaps and rudders still amaze me, and seeing the air rush over the aerodynamically optimized structure as we zoom in for landing, well – let’s just say I know all a girl should know about the Bernoulli Principle of lift. But, my fascination goes further than that. While waiting at the gate I check out for the size of the plane as it approaches the jetway, I watch as the various carts fill it with gas, food, load the luggage. Of course, as I board the plane I always check out whatever I can see of the cockpit. As we live in a post 9/11 world it becomes impossible to ask to SEE the cockpit, but sometimes you can get a glimpse of all those controls. Millions of controls. Heck, I even check out all the flight attendants storage spaces – where the carts go, the coffee pots, their purses. Everything has a space, everything has a function (or three), it’s amazing. As we pull away from the gate I’m aware of the little truck that’s pushing the plane (because these big things can not maneuver in reverse themselves), I’m watching the grounds crew as they signal which way the plane should go. I wait to feel the landing gear raise and lower. As we come in for landing, I understand all the various banks and rolls and speed changes that happen. It’s these details that my dad and I used to pay attention to and talk about when we flew. And, I still do. And I know, whenever he flies, these are the things my dad is looking at and thinking about too! Given that I've taken a total of 10 flights in the last 2 weeks, I've really noticed this fascination of mine.

While in Cairns last week I was lucky enough to get on to a boat tour where we boarded a sailing vessel and headed out to the reef. If planes make me think of my dad, boats certainly make me remember every summer I ever had. My family had a 30 foot Pearson sailboat, Pax, for about as long as I can remember – supposedly our first sailboat was a 24(am I close?) sailboat, Windward, but I was quite young when they got rid of that one. I think I remember it’s blue and red plaid cushions, but perhaps only from a picture. It’s Pax that I can still see if I close my eyes tight enough. She was teal, and had teal and grey cushions inside. The red table folded up and out of sight when we were underway, and the stairs were removable and revealed the shiny red engine underneath. While on the boat in Cairns, Falla, I couldn’t help but remember all the wonderful trips we took while I was growing up. And of course – all of the nautical information that was still in my head. Dad, do they drive on the left side of the channel in thiat part of the world too? I’d imagine so. When we were pulling back up to the dock at the end of the day, Skipper Doug was having a bit of trouble. It was very windy, and it kept blowing us out of the slip. He backed on out and tried a second time. One other man on board, who clearly knew a thing or two about boats, was along the port side ready to help. I noticed him there, so I said to him quietly “Hey, Fred, if you jump off with the spring line, just throw me the stern line quick and I’ll get it back there.” Literally, these words just came out of my mouth without much thought. Fred looked up at me, quite shocked I must say, and was unsure of what to do. Much to my dismay, and that of young looking females everywhere, Fred jumped off with the spring line and quickly threw the stern line up to an already busy Skipper Doug. I guess I can’t blame him, who am I to think that they’d have faith in me to know what to do with anything when it came to a boat. But, I know – and my dad does too – that I could have caught that stern line, and even could have tied it to a cleat.

Thanks Dad, all those times you sat me down to teach me about ridiculously useless things (like units conversion), well…maybe you knew what you were talking about.

cultural similarities

2008-06-24T22:25:00.003-05:00

I hadn't considered that me saying "y'all" does for the Aussies what their saying "Good'ay Mate!" does for me.

Paradise

2008-06-24T21:51:00.005-05:00

On Friday morning I flew to Cairns, pronounced Cannes, which is a beautiful city with access to the Great Barrier Reef, among other things. In stark contrast to Melbourne, this place feels like paradise. It’s quite hot, and the scenery is gorgeous. After a tiring morning of flying we were able to lounge by the pool for a bit, and then ventured over to the esplanade for some shopping. Didgeridoos, boomerangs, rhythm sticks, and other gorgeous wood creations abound – there were a few didgeridoos that really seemed to want to come home with me, but I left them behind.

On Saturday we joined up with some friends from UCLA and boarded a two-masted ship, the Falla, for a day of sailing and snorkeling. Captain Doug and (what we hope to be his girlfriend, otherwise he was overly snippy with her) Jacqueline took us out to Fitzroy Island. It was a very wet and mostly bumpy ride out to the island. I contemplated an introductory dive, and listened to the introductory dive lecture, but in all honesty the need to “equalize” the pressure on the way down by popping my ears freaked me out. As well as the claustrophobic feeling I was sure I’d feel once hooked up to a tank. But, luckily for me, my flight the following day was the actual reason I could not dive – and not because I was too chicken to try it. Instead, I spent about a total of an hour and a half snorkeling in and around a portion of the Great Barrier Reef that was absolutely beautiful. (I did have a crappy underwater camera, and so once those pictures are developed I’ll post some good ones.) It was a little windy that day, and so the water wasn’t as clear or brilliant as I’d imagined. But, once I got in the water and calmed down a bit – the wildlife was everywhere. I spent some time swimming with a large school of small blue fish, poking into large hunks of coral, and chasing after the poor sea turtle that only made himself known to us briefly. For lunch Doug and Jacqueline had prepared a picnic on the beach. By beach, however, I mean pile of small dead coral “rocks”. As we learned from talking to Doug, the coral we can see is just the top living layer that grows on the underlying dead layers. In fact, the entire Fitzroy Island is “growing” out of piles of dead coral, just so happened to grow up in to a few trees and all. The party started when we headed back, and they broke out the complimentary wine and cheese and fruit. We’ll just say, I slept well that night. Good thing, I was up the next morning at 4am in order to go back to the airport.

(In case you are keeping track, that Sunday morning flight is individual flight number five, in seven days!)

I am in Melbourne

2008-06-21T18:32:00.005-05:00

Sadly, NH stole my favorite picture of Melbourne for his post, so we’ll have to struggle along with this one.
After my long-ass flight, and seemingly days of travel, I arrived in the land down under. First stop, Melbourne. Science is what brings me here, but I'll save you from those details. It's cold in Melbourne, and I am not prepared. Having lived all but the last 9 months in New England it amazes me how inflexible I am with the weather now. I am unable to determine appropriate outfits for a climate based solely on the temperature I can find online. Needless to say, I did not pack well. I was cold much of the time, and wore the same grey sweater every night.

As a city, I did not fall in love with Melbourne. It was a generic looking city – I’d easily believe that I was somewhere in the middle of Ohio, maybe Michigan – and the weather was crap. Also, we had the damnedest time finding food. Everything closed around 9pm, and we rarely could make up our minds on what our plan was in time to get anywhere before they kicked us out. It made for a lot of walking. We did find this sweet arcade, with the drum game, and air hockey. We had a tournament, the results of which are inconclusive and require a rematch, but I could have been the winner.

Wednesday, mid morning, was my moment – it went well, but it was during a very crucial beantown moment. I did manage to sneak away during lunch, even convinced a few friends to run across the street to the casino with me, to watch the end on the big screen. We got there with about 6 minutes left in the 4th quarter. And, all I can say is – WOW! Amazing. What a year for Boston, what a season for the Celtics. It was nice to be so far away and still be with a crowd, pumped for the game. It was nothing like watching it at Little Woodrow’s with a mish-mash of displaced Boston and LA natives, but for being in Australia, I guess it will do!

On Thursday morning a few of us decided to venture out for breakfast; we found this place and headed off. It was the cutest little place, with the best breakfast I’ve had in a long time. That afternoon, while it poured buckets outside, we spend a few hours at the Melbourne Museum of Moving Images, mainly at the Game On exhibit, playing loads of video games. (btw, Austinites – I am ready for Rock Band, BRING IT!)

Thursday night we found a band playing at the Ding Dong Lounge in Chinatown. And when that place was closing the very nice bar tender wearing a Celtics jersey drew a map for me, to the Pony Bar, which didn’t close until 7am. This sounded like the place for us. We headed there, and found a group of native Aussies to hang with. We hung, and drank, with them for far too long, until far too late, and made it back with far too little time before our VERY early morning flight to Cairns. The end of that story is, I did make it on the plane – with little to no assistance from anyone – and that was a major feat.

How to deal with a thirteen and a half hour plane ride and a sixteen hour time difference

2008-06-17T00:57:00.005-05:00

It can really be summarized by two things: Fight Club. Ambien. But, allow me to elaborate.

I've been wanting to rewatch the movie Fight Club for a while now. I know I saw it in college, maybe my junior year, when we had that ridiculous projector and a wall sized canvas as our TV. It was great, in that it was BIGGER than anything you could imagine, but the picture quality was pretty awful, and if there was any amount of light coming in that common room, forget it - you couldn't see shit. And that's how I watched some supposedly great movies like Fight Club, Snatch, and The Big Lebowski. And I missed a lot.

I was sitting at the gate in LA, two hours into my 4 hour lay-over and no hours into my 13.5 hour flight, already bored out of my mind. A gut next to me reached into his bag and pulled out a brand new copy of Fight Club. I was quickly thinking, I could ask him if maybe we could share...he could watch, then I could watch, we'd have enough time. As I went over this in my mind, however, he had put the movie away, put on headphones, and fallen asleep. Damn!

Once we boarded the plane and I got settled I looked to my right and thought, 'this kid in the aisle looks familiar'. He was visibly nervous about the length of the flight and kept pointing out how long it would be. I thought this would be a disaster. He got up at one point to scope out a new seat with more room and the woman to my left and I discussed how we hoped he'd leave so we could also have more room. He came back, unable to find a seat, and opened his bag. He looked at me and said 'Hey, have you seen Fight Club? I have it, on my laptop, wanna watch it?' Score! I said yes, and moments later we were sharing a set of headphones and huddled (cuddled, maybe!) over his laptop watching Fight Club. I feel like I've never been so happy.

After the movie was over, and we'd eaten our meal, I resorted to my second measure of coping - Ambien. I popped one in and was out, for nearly seven hours. It was great. I'm not sure that Fight Club Dude agrees, as the arm rest was still up and I'm pretty sure that I rolled over at one point and used him as a pillow. But, you do what you have to, right?!

I woke up refreshed and ready to eat the continental breakfast!

One more Ambien on my first full night here, and I'm totally in the zone (the Australian time zone that is!)

Also, I'd like to thank Qantas Airlines - seriously, one of the best I've flown. I don't think I'd have been nearly as comfortable and happy if it had not been for their attention to detail (clean airplane bathrooms with marble floors), ever ready snacks (including an endless supply of apples, water, M&Ms, and mints), and superb customer service (I received an express pass through customs, even though I had already MISSED my connection, and then was rebooked on a flight that required me to only wait an extra 25 minutes). So I guess that's three things: Fight Club. Ambien. and Qantas!

the land down under

2008-06-13T16:12:00.005-05:00

It's been a while, and there's been a lot going on.

There's been kickball

There's been cake

And, there's been two-steppin'

But today, there's going to be flying. And lots of it. My ride is showing up (thanks RO'D) in 15 minutes, and then I'm off to the airport. Some thirty hours later I should arrive on the other side of the world, ready for anything!

Until then...

the dingo ate my baby!

2008-05-29T18:36:00.004-05:00

Two weeks from tomorrow I'll be hustling to the Austin-Bergstrom International Airport - heading on a 2 week trip for to Australia. Normally, I'm very ahead of the game for things like this. This time, I am not.

Here are the things I have done:
* booked a flight from here to Melbourne
* booked a flight from Melbourne to Cairns
* booked a flight from Cairns to Brisbane
* booked a flight from Brisbane back to Austin
* booked a hotel in Melbourne, Cairns, and Brisbane
* gotten an Australian visa
* found friends to watch Mia

Here are the things I have not done:
* looked at a map
* know the climate
* get appropriate converters for the outlets
* make the poster about the work I am supposed to present
* consolidate all my flight/hotel information so I know where I'm going when
* bought a carry-on bag
* gotten an oil change, haircut, bought food for Mia, stopped the mail, finished some work for school
* this list is so much longer that I'm overwhelmed and have to stop now.

The Kickball Diaries, volume 4.

2008-05-19T10:30:00.004-05:00

Week 5. Kitshickers vs Sandy Clams.
Game time: 5/8/2008, 8:10pm
Game Conditions: day after the tornado, dryer than you'd have though.
Result: T 3-3
Record: 1-1-2

Let me start of this week's Kickball Diaries with an excerpt from the Austin Sports and Social Clubs webpage:

Good news for the Sandy Clams, who look to make it four wins in a row versus the Kitschickers (1-1-1).

The Sandy Clams are the only undefeated team, with a 3-0 record, and apparently we are the underdogs who are assumed to lie down and let them walk right into 4-0. Well, I wasn't having it. We tried some positive thinking before the game, just because they are undefeated does not mean they are perfect, it simply means that they haven't lost yet. They also haven't played us yet.

The game was unremarkable. We were up, we were down, we were tied, we were back up, we were tied. The ump was a dipshit, he was grumpy and yelling and he tried to end our game early. We nearly had a two-team bench clearing brawl versus the ump just to get him to let us play one more inning - the FIFTH inning.

I contributed next to nothing, and I honestly don't remember many plays of the game. I remember that I played a variety of positions and hardly knew what I was doing out there. I also know that now, thanks to us, the Sandy Clams will not have a perfect season.

I also know that our team is in trouble. Here is our latest injury report:
one player is out with a busted knee, likely needing surgery
one player went home with an ankle three times the size it was when he arrived
one player recently had surgery on her kicking-toe
one player is going to play through her injured hip, for the sake of the team

We're in some sore shape, but damn it if we aren't playing a perfect .500 ballgame, kids!

another one bites the dust...

2008-05-14T08:13:00.000-05:00

Somehow I find myself celebrating the end of yet another semester. It seems surreal to me that two semesters here are over. But that rush of feeling DONE, it's escaped me this semester. I find that people who are unused to a life in academia don't really understand what I do all day. Do I "go to class", "work in an office", "sleep on the couch and watch soaps"? I mean, it's a valid question. I, in fact, do two of the three. When there are classes, I go. Otherwise I'm getting "work" done in my office. In fact, my life this semester has been very similar to my life the last 3 years. Data analysis, data collection, subject scheduling, answering questions, hiding behind my door. (Oh, the door, that's actually a welcome new addition!) And now that I'm done, in the sense that all the work has been turned in for all of my classes, what's left right? I'm faced with the never ending question "What are you doing for the summer?"

Summer starts today, and I'm sitting in my office, waiting for a subject to arrive. I'll test them, then I'll hope to modify one of my experiments, because I have another subject coming at 2:30pm. After that I hope to be able to make some changes to a paper I'm writing and send out another draft for comments. I've also got to call the subjects we've got lined up for tomorrow - and a few new subjects who need to be scheduled. So, in the end, I'm not really "done", I'll never really be "done".

But the semester is over, and hell if that doesn't deserve some celebratin'.

The Kickball Diaries, volume 3.

2008-05-13T09:45:00.003-05:00

Week 4. Kitshickers vs Kick Cheney.
Game time: 5/8/2008, 9:00pm
Game Conditions: dark, but still hot.
Result: T 1-1
Record: 1-1-1

Did you think I forgot? Dropped out? Got kicked off? No! Last week, week 3, was our bye week - but we were back in action on Thursday. The game started off slow, it was a pitchers duel, 3-up 3-down save for the very first inning where Kick Cheney scored a run. It was essentially a fielder's choice, a choice CH probably would remake if he had the chance - throw home, NOT to first!

The most exciting part of the middle of the game were the round-offs that were happening in right field. Yours truly started the trend, RO'D joined in at first. I even managed one Round-off out of the CF, and the LF.

My highlight came sometime in the middle, amongst the round-offs, when RO'D moved closer to home from first, because a girl was at bat (we know how I feel about this mentality - as I said loudly, 'She could be a powerhouse!') She wasn't. RO'D ran up to get the ball, and I slid in to first base, yelling "I'm here!" RO'D grabbed the ball and lobbed it back to the bag, where I was waiting, arms open. I caught the ball and made the inning ending out! It was AWESOME! I felt like hero. I had no idea what to do with the ball that was still in my hands.

It was the ninth inning (ok, really the 7th, we only play 7 - so it's the same sentiment as the 9th) and we were down 1-0. 2 outs. CH, who has pitched a tight tight game, but also responsible for the only run scored so far, is up. He wails one - and we all start jumping. RO'D runs over to be third base coach, I run up the first base line along side CH screaming, GO GO GO! RO'D is yelling, we're all jumping. CH rounds second, rounds third. He seemed to stop and hesitate - but we were all just yelling. So, he turned it up. Play at the plate....SAFE! It's a 1-1 ball game kids. Our stand-in ringer DL was up next, and he made it on base, to 3rd I think. It was within reach, it was doable. One of our lovely ladies was the next up, and no one had the heart to remind her that if she did NOT get out we might win right here. We just let her be. Sadly, she was thrown out at 1st, and the inning was over.

But, we forced an extra inning. We took the field, and kept them off base. Round-offs ensued. And then, the last inning, we almost had it, another heroic dash for home, play at the plate....OUT! Game over, all tied up. But, what a rush. I've never been so excited to not win. Best of all, in the end, CH told me "Dude, your enthusiasm, it's just about as great as Papi coming out of his slump!" Right back atcha CH, right back atcha!

wanna be starting something

2008-05-09T21:02:00.000-05:00

It's my blog. It's my prerogative to not disclose everything. But know this - something's starting right now. You don't even need to know what it is, the fact that it's starting is certainly enough.

So here's to something! Starting now....

geography lesson

2008-05-07T08:04:00.002-05:00

I was watching the weather yesterday morning as I was getting ready for school - trying to decide what to wear. There are some weather patterns I still haven't figured out what to do with, like when it's dark and stormy but 85 degrees...what IS the appropriate outfit?

I had caught the tail end of the map of the entire country's temperatures and was looking for the one I wanted. But, the map went by too quickly for me to see. It was seconds later that I realized I had focused my search in the upper right corner of the map. Stupid, I live in Texas, down on the 3rd coast! Thank God for TiVO, I was able to simply rewind the weather and try again!

The Kickball Diaries, volume 2.

2008-04-28T23:39:00.004-05:00

Week 2. Kitshickers vs The Hustlerz.
Game time: 4/24/2008, 6:30pm
Game Conditions: sunny, warm, windy.
Result: W 10-0
Record: 1-1

I told you I could smell a win. Ok, I wrote that last one already knowing the outcome. We were totally awesome - if the score doesn't suggest as much. I had some choice plays, as per usual. Here's the favorite. I made it to first, in fact the way I made it to first on this play escapes me, since I made it to first on two occasions. Perhaps this was when I walked? Oh yes, that was it. I struck out the first time, and this second time I was up I asked the ref to draw the "batters box" on the ground so I knew where it was. Which helped, as I then walked! The guy behind me, BMc, kicked it real far, and I was off. Rounded second, and third. A quick look back told me I could probably make it to home. RO'D was the first base coach, and he was telling me to run. Our "manager" was the third base coach, he was even telling me to run. CH, another fellow bostonian and die-hard was closer to home, also telling me to go. I glanced back again as I was running, knowing full well I could make it, but depending on how hard they threw it, there may be a play. I was ready. Now, I will blame something on the ground. But on one step half way between 3rd and home my foot went in a direction I was not expecting. Perhaps a little further down, or slightly inclined in a ditch, it's hard to say. But, it didn't do what I thought, and my entire right leg wobbled. But - I was running at lightning speed, it was tough to recover. There was some stumbling, and a whole lot of arm waving, windmill style, trying to keep myself upright. At this point all I'm thinking is, 'they'll never believe there was something on the ground'. To my right, our "manager" has visibly given up on me. To my far left RO'D may be unable to breath through fits of laughter. Between him and CH I see the team, in hysterics. And I hear CH's booming voice "STAY UP UNTIL YOU CROSS THE PLATE!" I run hard, arms flailing, and I cross the plate - never once falling over. I stopped and turned, to witness BMc doing the same exact thing I just did. It was something on the ground, and about 5 steps behind me he also was flailing and windmilling trying to stay up. Hysterics warranted.

On a second choice play, I decided to kick the ball (although I think it would have been a ball had I left it alone), it was outside to the left of the box. Now, what I decided t do with this pitch was to run a few steps up and kick it with my left foot (I'm a righty). This shocked me as it happened, and the fact the the ball sailed over towards third shocked me even more. Now, what confused me was that I had the weight on the wrong foot and was a little stuck trying to run out of the box. I made it to first seconds too late, and CH - the first base coach now - said to me "Hey, Jenni, next time just don't stop when you kick it". Thanks coach, I'll work on that!

Also, a highlight of the day was the birthday celebration for RO'D himself. Happy Birthday little buddy. I take credit for the win, it was definitely the birthday cupcakes that I brought! For sure!

The Kickball Diaries, volume 1.

2008-04-27T13:20:00.005-05:00

Week 1. Kitshickers vs 99 Problems but a Pitch ain't one.
Game time: 4/17/2008, 7:20pm
Game Conditions: It's hard to remember, but I'm sure it was hot, and dusk.
Result: L 4-1
Record: 0-1

Our league is a coed league, and there are inevitably rules about how many girls must play, a separate bunt line for the girls, and just a general feeling of how we can "even things" out to make up for the girls being crap players. It's a mindset that I hate. It implies that merely because I am a girl I will be one of the worst players, or worse that merely because someone else is a guy he will be a force. Just, untrue. Maybe. We began going over the rules, and our "manager" was explaining some things, pointing out the bunt line for the girls, telling me that as the center fielder I should come in when a girl was kicking, and informing me that my only strategy when at bat was to just try and kick it on the ground towards 3rd so I'd have a shot at getting on base. Well, I launched in to a diatribe about how girls can be good players too - how these rules were crap, how I could try and aim to kick a gosh-darn homerun if I felt compelled. He shrugged me off, and I took the field. RO'D was sitting out first, and watched the following transpire from the sidelines.

It was the first play I was going to make as a kickball-er, and let me just preface with...that ball is HUGE. It's about 3 times bigger than you are picturing in your head right now. It is red, similar to the one you probably used in elementary school - but bigger. Some guy kicks the ball to the outfield, it's totally mine, I'm all over it. And then....then this happened. I looked up, and this enormous ball was falling towards my face and I quickly realized I had NO IDEA what to do about it, not a clue. So, I closed my eyes, screamed a bit, and swatted erratically at the air. I shouldn't have to add (but I will) that I didn't even touch the ball at all, it went behind me. I turned and ran to it, picked it up, and half rolled, half overhanded it somewhere towards the in-field. Not nearly close enough to do anything reasonable. I think that guy was standing on third picking his nose by the time I finished with the ball. After that I brushed my shoulder off, and patted myself on the back for single-handedly undermining the integrity of female kickball-ers everywhere. When the inning was over RO'D slyly said to me, "Um, did you close your eyes?!" By the end of the game I was feeling it a little better - I knocked a few down, held some people from scoring, although I never once made a catch.

Behind the plate, the entire team was dead. It was my first at bat, and I walked over to home plate - instantly scared crapless - what would happen here, any one's guess. There was a radio nearby blastin' out some tunes, and while it was not my original theme song the new Madonna song, 4 minutes, came on. (Quick interruption - I've been obsessed with this song lately, listening to it maybe 6 times a day while dancing in my office) So as soon as I heard this I screamed over to RO'D - "This is the song I've been dancing to in my office all week", forgetting that I work in the same building as everyone else on the team. They all begin to laugh at me, as I danced my way into my first out. I finished the day 0 for 2 behind the plate.

But damn it all if I didn't have a ton of fun while doing it! Go Kitshickers, I smell a win soon....

apple bottom jeans, boots with the fur

2008-04-26T13:12:00.006-05:00

Let me take you back a bit, to a simpler time, about 4 weeks ago. This is when I joined a kickball team. It's a team that has played together before - with some new additions this time around, namely me and RO'D. We call ourselves The Kitshickers, and we wear navy blue shirts, and drink beers as we run the bases and cause general mayhem. As per usual, I don't get out of this experience without doing something completely absurd, so I've decided to institute a weekly series, an account of sorts, of exactly what embarrassing thing I've done to keep my entire team laughing at me for another week!

Introducing...The Kickball Diaries. The first order of business was to select an "at bat" song, which questionably worked out for me.

A healthy dose of crazy!

2008-04-09T21:11:00.003-05:00

If you've been keeping up with my life as of late (unblogged, of course) you know there has been an unhealthy dose of crazy infiltrating the scene. But, Monday - we had the healthy kind, and it was refreshing, albeit endangering at some points. I left my office and headed to my car, on my way the phone rang. It was LR, and she was at Spiderhouse. Since my car was parked right by there, I stopped by to hang for a bit. We were seated in this back area, that's up on a little stage, and under a roof. The roof is actually sheets of metal siding, or something like that. We were talking and I kept being distracted by this guy who was tugging and hanging on the structure holding up the roof. It was very shaky - I thought maybe he was inspecting it. Then, he climbed on this rusty table and I gasped. (SIDE NOTE: It's the mismatchy, rusted, outdoor furniture that gives spiderhouse it's charm) He assured me he was ok, and I warned him that the table was rotting out from under his feet.

So, he climbed down and went away. Story over. Or, not quite.

This back stage area is, well, at the back of Spiderhouse's outdoor area, and behind it there is a house (maybe its a business in a house, I don't actually know) with a 2nd story deck. This guy is now scaling the deck, and hoisting himself up onto the railing. LR and I are staring, as are the two girls at the one other table under the roof. He stood around for a bit, and so we carried on our conversation. Until.

The whole structure we were sitting under began shaking, VIOLENTLY. And then you just heard a bunch of cracking and metal flexing. As I glanced up, I could see the roof bending under the guy who was now crawling over it. I began to laugh, and the two girls at the other table quickly fled the scene. He crawled across the whole roof, leaving full-grown-man-sized dents on his way. He stopped when he was directly above my head. At this point everyone in the patio is staring at him, and us. He peeks down from above and smiles and says "Don't worry, I'll be ok!" I refrained from telling him I was actually worried about myself.

There was another round of shaking and crunching, and I can only imagine that this is when he decided to stand up. Next thing you know, he is in the palm tree that is adjacent to the roof. He spends some time shaking the tree a bit, and climbs back to the roof. Again peeking down at me, "Don't worry I won't fall". He laid down on the roof, bending it worse, and put his arms into the tree. This complicated little dance went on for what seemed like an eternity - mostly because no one was able to do anything but stare in disbelief. It was probably something like 8 minutes.

When he was done, he crawled back across the roof, more dents, and dismounted onto the railing of the porch. In his hand, a foot and a half piece of palm frond, his hard-earned treasure. He held it proudly, showed it to us, and grinned. So much work, for what?! A palm frond, not even a full one. A piece of a tree, which he also could have ripped off the lower portions of the tree from the ground, in fact I could have ripped off a matching piece without even moving from my chair.

He walked over to an empty table, prize in hand, smiling to everyone. He sat down, still clutching the leaf, for a while. Then, he placed it on the table and walked away. I'll never understand what happened, and I will forever notice the dents in the roof at Spiderhouse. But, somehow, in light of everything else - this man's crazy, was something I could totally get on board with. Palm fronds for everyone!

my allegiance

2008-04-07T23:09:00.003-05:00

Some people were curious to know how I was feeling going into tonight's big game, perhaps rightly so. Let me start with, living down here, my allegiance has quickly grown to be almost solely to two things, the Red Sox (ALWAYS) and Bevo. So, needless to say, I'm still sad that UT couldn't cut it. But, I was happy to see our Big 12 companions KU doing so great. And, I will always be a fan of great games. The Jayhawks had some of the best games this whole madness, tonight certainly tops them all. Rockchalk Jayhawks everywhere. But watch out - football's around the corner, Punks!

(...it's no Eyes of Texas!)