Sibling love is a strangling love

So, I got these hilarious pictures from Chandra today (I do have other nieces and nephews, but no one else gives me pictures--just Chandra) and felt that I should share them! Blake's about 2 1/2 and Brin is 6 months. 6 months old, and already made 3 airplane trips to Alaska! Quite the little pair of travelers.

A relaxed and natural threat

The forensics class at the high school enlisted help from the faculty and staff by passing out paragraphs for us to copy--presumably to perform handwriting analysis. Nifty, I thought, as I prepared to put pen to paper. The instructions directed me to "copy the following paragraph in your most relaxed and natural handwriting." I knew, of course, that my handwriting would be a tad neater than usual--a smidge self-conscious, if you will--knowing that every loop and slant would be up for post-mortem review. I mean, is there anyone among us who doesn't overanalyze the result of picking "A" over "B" while taking a personality test? No? Manipulating personality tests isn't all that common, eh--just me, I suppose. Anyhow, here's the kicker--

We were to copy a RANSOM NOTE.

How "relaxed and natural" do you suppose you would be if penning such a nefarious note? One would think that you'd try and use your most agitated and forceful handwriting in such a case. I would hardly be as worried about a lovely, flowing script when compared to the same message seemingly written by a lunatic. OR, more likely, you'd try and disguise it altogether, perhaps eschewing the pen for a handy People magazine and a sharp pair of scissors.

Curious choice, is all I'm thinking.

~an email to my boss~

Subject: I'm thinking "no"

While the sub was a nice individual, I think perhaps next time you go with someone else? After finishing some projects, she (helpfully) asked if she could help me with anything else. I suggested that she could help me shelve. Face fallen, she asked, "Could I help you with anything else?" Which I totally understand, seeing as how she'd been staring at spine labels for quite awhile by then, but also, we are a library. Odd response. Anyhow, I looked around and suggested that she fill the empty book stands on top of the shelves with something nearby that was eye-catching. After she finished that, she gathered her stuff from the back room, settled at Nancy's Mac and was reading a book. I didn't notice until several minutes later and, when she caught me regarding her in a puzzled way, struggled to find a "we're equals" way of asking her why she wasn't still working. I finally settled on, "Are you waiting for something to do?" She didn't grab that lifeline. "Well . . . you're still here for ten minutes, right?" At her reluctant agreement, I briskly toted her up and suggested that we knock out the last few fiction books to shelve. When we finished shelving, I brightly announced that I had found a task that would only take 2 or 3 minutes to complete and wouldn't be staring at spine labels, as a bonus! I could see her eyeing the clock--it was 3:11 at that point. I somewhat diabolically figured that since she was ten minutes late to begin with, staying until her contracted time was the least she could do. So I had her scan some books into the computer as "Mark Item Used" and she was done and gone by 3:14. Once again, a very pleasant person, just baffling in the whole oh-you-wanted-me-to-work? aspect.

Poor sub, though, really. I had had mucho idiot kids who couldn't contain their cell phones, game playing or library-eating this afternoon, so I was perhaps not in the most understanding of moods.

Weekend! ;o)

"I'm gifting you in my mind."

If you are a Hutchings, immediately avert your eyes--do not ruin your own Christmas! I'll be very bitter. I'm counting on the idea that you guys never come to this site!

So, pretty much every Christmas--and occasionally some lucky person's birthday--I get wrongly inspired by the well-intentioned thought of gift-giving. And always totally last minute.

To date:

*Several years ago, I purchased a nifty book of hat knitting patterns, complete with fair isle knitting (two or more colors at once), ear flaps, etc., and decided to make all of my Anchorage family sweet homemade gifts for Christmas. I still haven't handed out some of the hats from 2002(?). Maybe it was 2003? All Rod's needs is a tassel and cords (and a liner inside for his sensitive head), Chandra's just needs a tassel and cords, Greg probably tossed his awhile ago (I wasn't very impressed with how his turned out--but at least I finished it!), Amber never even got one, Kaeli's was too big, Chelsea grew out of hers in about two seconds, Robin thought hers was BROWN even though it was a lovely PURPLE--and hers still needs some cords and a tassel.

**I promised my nephew, Tommy, that I would knit him a sweater for his birthday. Last year. We went about it all wrong, buying the yarn first without a pattern. Then finding a pattern that didn't quite fit him (or the thickness of yarn that we bought), but decided that the pattern would be a breeze to alter. I got the back done, then realized that unless I submitted the design to into a calc-based data processing pattern interpreter and waited 200 years for the calculations, my sweater would end up having questionable proportions.

***I knit my sister, Amber, a sweater for that same Christmas as the hats, I think, but never sewed the pieces together, or inserted a zipper. Honestly, there's an almost-made sweater just chilling under my bed, ready for my finishing touch once I sooth my fears of zippers.

****I knit my sister, Chandra, a cardigan back when I lived in Utah, and all it needs is buttons and to be blocked. Have I done this? No. I'm not even quite sure where it is. It's a lovely charcoal, though. I think she'd like it. Also, I have a complete-except-it-has-to-be-sewed-together ballerina sweater completed for her daughter, Brin, keeping Amber's sweater company. She'll likely grow out of it before I get back to that project. Anyone else having a girl? ;o)

*****And so on . . .

In our family, we divvy up the gift-giving this way: Each family buys for one other family (limit $75), rotating through the families every year. Amber and I, by the way, totally score on this system, as we each count as our own separate familes and don't have to split the gift with others. (Please ignore how un-Christmas spirit-y that last sentence sounded. I'm not as selfish as all that! If you look at it objectively, it's not like we're getting a whole lot of other presents, being the one-person families that we are.) This year, I have Robin and Rod's family. What do you give a family? DON'T SAY BOARD GAMES. I love board games, but their family doesn't even really play the ones they have.

Thanksgiving week, I decided to be ambitious and record books on "tape" for them. Rather, books on "mp3". I borrowed Amber's Mac laptop, settled down at the kitchen counter in my housesitting house, and began to read aloud, much to the consternation of the two dogs peering cautiously around the corner at me. I started with Chelsea's book, having a clear idea in mind of what title to pick (a Battle of the Books book--AK school trivia competition), and thinking that hers would probably be the shortest read--"short" being a relative term. Did you know how much longer it takes to read out loud than to yourself? My word. That 290 page book took something like 5:40 to read! I must say, too, that it was hard not to interject comments along the way--I totally figured out the mystery way before the main character. Which should not be something I brag about--it's a book designed for ten-year-olds.

Anyhow, I've decided on the following:

-The Book Thief for Robin and Rod (yeah, that's RIGHT, they'll have to share--that book is long) because it's her next book club book (and I've always wanted to read it).

-Walden for Madison because it's her next book she has to read for school--I figure it might be easier to listen to, if it comes to crunch time. You should have seen the other choices--Grapes of Wrath (over 600 pages), The Great Gatsby (my fine ASD education has permanently scarred me by over-analyzing that book), and other titles I can't remember. Why oh why didn't they save Of Mice and Men until after Christmas? That one's short! Despite owning it, though, I've never read Walden. Maybe it will make me more thoughtful and reflective. Well, that's what I thought about hiking around Mt. Rainier, too. Hmmm . . .

-Still torn on what to read for Kaeli. She's my nearest "kindred-spirit" niece when it comes to reading. What shall I indoctrinate her in next? So many choices. TOO many choices. Sigh.

-And, of course, you already know Chelsea's.

And THAT, my friends, is much more than you ever could have possibly wanted to know about my Christmas prep for this year. Gotta go and find a willing computer to chat to now!

Calling all runners!

Hey, so the Seattle Rock 'n Roll Marathon has been chosen as the next marathon to get gifted with $95 of my money for the dubious pleasure of running 26.2 miles! It's held on June 29, 2009 so there's plenty of time to get ready, everyone. Of course, I do recognize that--due to Seattle's inherently clammy nature--this may not be the sunny Lower 48 experience I seem to always anticipate, but I will press on and register! http://www.rnrseattle.com/

Picky, Particular, Peculiar, Persnickety

Thank you, thesaurus.com . . .

One would hardly think it was possible for me to find something else to be fussy about, but I find--much to my surprise--that I am a jigsaw puzzle snob. The knowledge of this finicky-ness has been lurking on the horizon, but it popped up into full view this November. For the period of perhaps two weeks, I was fully engrossed in watching the new(er) series of Battlestar Galactica. Every day at lunch I would squeeze in an episode, and frequently I would either stay after school to watch more, or (when I was housesitting and not at B&N) take it home to continue the series. But I felt like kind of a lump just sitting there watching, so I started working on a nifty little puzzle. Well, a nifty little puzzle with a semi-sordid past. I actually bought this puzzle to give to a friend on bedrest in the hospital. She ended up having her baby several weeks early, though, so I rationalized to myself that now she would have no time, energy or patience to tackle what purported itself to be the World's Smallest 1000-piece puzzle. So, with a slightly disturbed conscience, I took the puzzle to work, to happily employ my fingers while rotting my brain on the pretty moving pictures before me.

Well, after that puzzle was finished, I found myself getting jittery if ever watching TV without one. So I bought the next puzzle in that series and fed my addiction some more. Meanwhile, I started noticing that I didn't have puzzles at my housesitting houses, or my own home, to work on if I were to grab a few spare moments to watch my show. So I bought more puzzles and set them up. The Christmas Ravensburger was a fine choice (though my mom did kind of take it over while I was gone), but the 10-puzzles-in-one Thomas Kinkade fiasco. Goodness. If I have to shuffle through another one of those hazy, pastel, poor-quality cardboard experiences again, well--I WON'T. Having unearthed this new snobbishness, I found myself wandering the stores, searching for an acceptable puzzle. Oddly enough, they are not plentiful to be had. The search will continue, perhaps for a lifetime, but I WILL satisfy my puzzle peculiarities. For those of you who are a bit mystified as to what a good puzzle entails, may I suggest the following:

-1000 pieces optimal

-Something entertaining in the photo (not just a mountain range or so)

-Ravensburger is a great brand, but anything that feels like it took more than 50 cents to make

-Hard to say, it just has to be worthy!

Upon reflection, it mystifies me as to how I've had so much time this month to watch three seasons of Batttlestar Galactica, or work on 6+ puzzles. I've been working both jobs, housesitting like crazy, working on Christmas projects, snowblowing, snowblowing, snowblowing, Book Club, Thanksgiving with family, planning the Ward Christmas Party, etc. I think cleaning fell through the cracks. I could literally live out of my car (it has all the necessities in it, including water--frozen--and breakfast shakes--semi-frozen), and I can hardly see the floor of my bedroom, due to all of the clothes strewn about. Ah, well, sacrifices must be made.

rahniREADS (November '08)

November's reading was dominated by children/teen books and political thrillers. Quite a combination!

~City of Ember - Jeanne DuPrau (Finally got curious about this book, now that the movie is out)
~Half Moon Investigations - Eoin Colfer (One of Chelsea's Battle of the Books books)
~Separation of Power - Vince Flynn (Mitch Rapp #3) (Because you can't stop with a series until you finish)
~Among the Brave - Margaret Peterson Haddix (Shadow Children #5) (see above)
~Among the Barons - Margaret Peterson Haddix (Shadow Children #4)
~Among the Betrayed - Margaret Peterson Haddix (Shadow Children #3)
~Among the Imposters - Margaret Peterson Haddix (Shadow Children #2)
~Kitty Kitty - Michele Jaffe (Read this one & wrote a review so we could keep it for free in our library)
~Among the Hidden - Margaret Peterson Haddix (Bought this book a long time ago, Rod borrowed, never got it back, never read, finally hunted it down again upon Kaeli's enthusiastic recommendation)
~The Last Lecture - Randy Pausch (Read AGAIN to prep for Book Club--it was my pick)
~The Third Option - Vince Flynn (Mitch Rapp #2) (Had to stay ahead of Chandra--she's reading these, too)
~Just Like That - Marsha Qualey (Teen angst book--I'm not proud, just bored one day) ;o)

Check out Talya and First Friday in Anchorage!

I feel so responsible, because . . .

This really shouldn't impress me as much as it does, but every time I go to the polls I feel very inflated with civic pride. Even if, when I arrive, I find myself completely surprised (and uninformed) about some of the questions. Totally forgot about the judges this time. No research done at all.

And, of course, living in Alaska gives you some interesting voting experiences. More than a few times, the race has been finished before most of us have even voted. Sure, our population is pretty meager, but still! At least act like we matter.

Just another day spent in the College Gate cafeteria, standing amongst grade-schoolers eating lunch and shooting curious looks our way . . .

Blake & Brin celebrate in '08!

Chandra and Greg are raising some cuties!

rahniREADS (October '08)

Just keeping track for my own bizarre reasons:

~Transfer of Power (Mitch Rap series #1) - Vince Flynn (because I liked Term Limits so much)
~Term Limits - Vince Flynn (Chandra recommended it to me via Gordon? or via Joseph? via a Wilde.) ;o)
~The Last Lecture - Randy Pausch (prep for November book club)
~Archangel - Sharon Shinn (fast bathtub re-read)
~Harris and Me - Gary Paulsen (book club book)
~Invasive Procedures - Orson Scott Card (purchased when stranded at SEATAC )
~50/50: Secrets I Learned Running 50 Marathons in 50 Days - Dean Karnazes (reread to prep for St. George Marathon)
~Ultramarathon Man - Dean Karnazes (I'd already read 50/50--this man is crazy but amazing)
~The Lost City of Faar - D. J. MacHale (because I keep directing kids to this series, but I've never read it myself--not as good as I had hoped, but somewhat entertaining)

If you get the chance, check out Nick Hornby's book--The Polysyllabic Spree. He's the author of About a Boy, High Fidelity, etc. It's this great collection of articles he wrote for a magazine, just essays detailing what books he bought that month versus which books he actually ended up reading. It reads more as a collection of memoir snapshots and observations on reading, on human behavior, and--of course, with him as an author--a lot of dry British humor. Good read.

It's a slippery slope . . .

First, you buy the High School Musical 3 soundtrack . . .

. . . next thing you know, you've downloaded a Pussycat Dolls song to your iPod.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you housesit for manically-destructive puppies, you diligently keep everything above their reach . . .

. . . until you get distracted reading a Vince Flynn novel in the bathtub only to find out that the scallawag dog is chewing on your FAVORITE DANSKOS not five feet away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You say yes to several housesitting jobs, responsibly checking that the dates don't conflict . . .

. . . and then each date shifts a little without you realizing, and you're stuck triple-housesitting for the weekend, thus dividing up the hours between midnight and 8 a.m. into equal increments of sleep, petting animals and driving from one house to the other to the other. (Thank goodness this weekend is Daylight Savings--one extra hour, maybe just for me!)

knock on wood

no snow fell today
chilled breath floats at twenty temp
whoops--day's not over

I am an embarrassment to my entire generation

-I confess to purchasing the soundtrack to High School Musical 3.
-I further confess to purchasing the soundtrack to High School Musical 3 FOR MYSELF.
-I further further confess to purchasing the soundtrack to High School Musical 3 for myself UNDER FALSE PRETENSES.

I told the smirking Costco employee that I took my nieces to the movie this past weekend (true) and that they were wishing they had the music (also true), but left out that I would be keeping the CD for my own pleasure. In fact, if I really just wanted to make sure they got it, I could have just suggested the purchase to their parents, or even challenged them to some character-building spending of their own money.

Sigh.

Good tunes, though.

P.S. What generation are we? Does anyone know?

Uncharitable Giving

I am ruled by greed.

Not always, but at times.

Times like this past Friday morning. Knowing this, the universe mocked me with an ill-timed, cruel--and yet effectively ironic--teaching moment. Let me explain . . .

Every year (apparently) the Anchorage School District has this big push for an employee Charitable Giving campaign. You can donate to tons of worthy causes--Food Bank of Alaska, Abused Women's Aid in Crisis, Covenant House (my primary association with this awesome organization for runaway teens is memories of every time we drove past the building when I was a kid, Amber would lean over and say, "Look, Rahni, there's your home!" Perhaps she longed to be the third of FOUR children, not five?), etc. I've never been surrounded by so many people whipping out checkbooks outside of Costco.

I've never felt an overwhelming urge to donate. Well, before Friday, I'd never felt the urge to donate. Tithing has always seemed to cover my bases on the charity spectrum. As I idly skimmed the form letter, the words "iPod shuffle" floated up and penetrated my indifferent perusal. Yep, that's the shallowness that caused me to set down my paperwork and rush on down to the Curriculum office. According to the announcement over the intercom, as well as the advertisement, if you donated just $50 to the Alaska School Foundation Fund, you would get a iPod shuffle as a thank you! It sounded to good to be true! Shockingly, I had a $50 bill in my pocket (a rare occasion--I hardly ever have cash on me, much to the dismay of the many panhandlers who peg me as an easy mark), an eager skip in my step, and a pining in my heart for a cute little mobile musical companion.

Well, we all know where this is going--Of course, it was too good to be true. It turns out--due to unclear language--that our building's Charity coordinator had misunderstood the way the incentives were to be distributed. If you donate $601+, then you can either get an iPod shuffle, or $50 will go to a special foundation in your name. $601 was about $551 more than I was willing to part with. In fact, when I heard that there would be no incentive (no TANGIBLE incentive--I'm not counting a feeling of general goodwill as a reward received. I've already told you that Friday was an extremely shallow day for me!) coming my way, I was halfway tempted to run and get my General Grant bill back. Never fear--I'm not that superficial. Or brave. ;o)

Lesson learned: when tempted to get rid of money one is toting around, stop and reconsider after a break--your impure motives will snap the situation back at you like a energetically vengeful rubber band. OR, become more charitable and learn that giving should be the ultimate incentive.

Yeah, that last one is probably the real lesson.

You know, I already have an iPod. In fact, it's a better iPod than the one offered. In no way did I NEED two iPods. What possessed me?

Running with the Clowns

If I had a camera that worked, this blog would be much more interesting, I'm sure. Use your imaginations?

Picture me in a medieval princess dress (ending about 8 inches above my ankles) . . .
. . . accompanied by 4' whatever" knight (a.k.a. Chelsea) frantically dashing around the Kincaid Chalet, trying to find a racing 'START' line. By the way, my dress was accessorized by running pants and shoes--quite a fashion statement. The Tuesday Night Race series was holding its last race of the season (never mind the snow on the ground, sunset before the race even started, and 20 degree temperature) and we were late. Not surprising, knowing me, but also NOT MY FAULT THIS TIME. They had advertised this race as taking place at Hilltop, but when we arrived (at 6:15 p.m. for the 6:30 p.m. race), we found out that they had rescheduled the race for all the way across town. Gamely, we sped through the night, trying to beat the starting gun.

We never stood a chance. According to Amber, the gun went off a few minutes early, due to compassion for some daring gentlemen who had dressed up in bikini tops. By the time we arrived, parked, and raced up to the chalet, some kids were already finishing the "Munchkin" race. We gave ourselves points for just showing up, and ran back to the car to race off to embarrass Madison at her choir concert (we didn't have time to change). See, there was some running involved in the evening!

October 5th

a.k.a. "the day I realized that there is life beyond the St. George Marathon"

But first, let's take a generous step back . . .

OCT 1st: 8PM--found myself moseying around the house with extra time, having already packed my paltry carry-on. Packed with time to spare to reach the airport? Unheard of. Collected my niece. Bought celebratory Cinnabun at airport. Got rejected by Delta. Stupid powerless buddy pass (which I totally appreciate, Chandra!). Had impromptu slumber party with niece. Hit the pillow around 2AM.

OCT 2nd: Despite repeated threats, niece woke up bright and early after a mere 6 hours sleep. Spent the day trying to find alternate routes down to SLC. Swallowed pride, accepted a buddy pass from pilot acquaintance (after having wimped out of actually asking him for it--made brave sister, Chandra, do it), abandoned faithful, loving niece, busted it to the airport. Flew to Seattle on AK Airlines. Fellow church member was my flight attendant. Took good care of me. Landed a bit late. RAAAAAN from literally one end of SEA-TAC to the other to make the connecting flight. "We're full." Delta rejected me again. Roamed the Seattle airport after securing a blanket for the night. Mourned decision not to bring portable DVD player. Bored. Went against instinct and bought a paperback from Borders--no discount! Plus tax! Evil. Settled down for a long winter's nap (key word: nap) on a comfy bench. Hmmm . . . no pajamas. Race clothes suffice. Diligent vacuumers and drafty/oft-opened-by-employees-outside-door next to my head yielded fitful sleep. Cursed (in a "darn it" sort of way) my reluctance to seek haven at Rod's brother's house north of the airport.

OCT 3rd: Woke early. Did I sleep? Boarded 6:10 AM plane to SLC. Brother-in-law drove me home. Lovely weather. Last time I see lovely weather. Collect Chandra and company. Hog front seat while Greg drives and Chandra entertains the children in the back. Contemplate items I forgot--DVD player, pajamas, knee brace . . .. Arrive at Expo. Find Rod and other Hutchings. Get totally suckered (but in such a way that I'm still not bitter about it) into buying all sorts of souvenir stuff: necklace pendant (immediately lost), two shirts for me, various bumper stickers, fake tattoo for arm (26.2), a pace bracelet to inspire me and keep track of my time, etc., etc. Indulged in spaghetti dinner with Hutchings--fabulous people to hype up your racing anticipation, lots of racing experience amongst them. Head swelled with pride when Rod's RUNNER nephew complimented my shoes. :o) Floated back to car on super-terrific shoes. Hooked back up with Chandra and Greg. Drove to his parents' house in Hurricane. Went to bed late. Idiot move. Found spider next to pillow. Chased spider around the room. Conceded the fight, pulled bed away from wall.

OCT 4th: Woke EARLY early. 4:15AM. Groaned about sleeping stupidity. Less than 4 hours of sleep = not ideal race. Drove down to St. George. Forgot clothes for after the race. Texted Chandra. Met up with Rod and family. Drove in absolute darkness and rain to start. Squinted, tried to see the race path. Gave up, chatted with Rod. Arrived at start. Donned trash bag to keep rain away, waited with the other 7200 racers for an outhouse opportunity. Missed the starting gun. Wandered past the Start line. Didn't realize why Rod wanted to get going. Panicked, took off running in trash bag.
MILES 1-3: First three miles were NOT downhill, as so indicated by course map. Spent most of the time dodging around other runners, avoiding discarded trash bags and foot-soaking puddles in the dark. All lost causes. Feet wet from mile 1 through mile 26.2. Sun never rises, but path lightens by mile 3.
MILES 4-7: Rain lightens up. Separated from Rod by hasty decision to shed some clothing on side of road. Still decent--wearing watermelon colors of pink shirt, green shorts. Not a fast "stripper". Fall behind.
MILES 7-8: Still raining. Entering town of Veyo=screaming supportive fans on side of road. Leaving Veyo=1.25 miles of the "Veyo Hill". Hills that are named are not good signs. Catch up to Rod.
MILES 9-11: Minding my own business. Listening to iPod. Surprised by sudden, "Hello, Rahni!" from behind. Joseph and Ryan! And friend Ben. Don't know why they didn't pass me earlier--they certainly finished ahead of me! Turned iPod way way down. Ran up hill with guys. Felt pathetic--breathing not optimal. Couldn't hear many of Ryan's questions due to wind blowing in ears against headphones. Found out I missed Patrick in the crowd at mile 7. Bummer. Was horrible company to the cheery runners. (Ryan: "Is it mile 10 already? This is going too fast!" Psycho. Friendly Psycho.) Heavier rain. Start to wring out shorts at every mile marker. Water streams down.
MILES 12-14: Worry about rain short-circuiting my earbuds and leaving me prone on the ground.
MILES 15-20: Still raining steadily. All a blur. Stomach feels weird. Would it be better to empty my stomach and start over? Decide not to--could get worse. Throwing up is gross. Two memorable points. Run down a hill. Contemplate walking. Hear cheering on the sideline. "Rahni! Wahoo!" Look in surprise to see Patrick doing jumping jacks and yelling. Respond to cheering with something inane about the wet conditions. Discard walking idea and try to look spry. Spry-ish. Other memory not so hot. Mean hill at mile 18. False summit. Bitter.
MILES 21-22: Still raining. Woman on side of the road yells, "Pick it up!" Force down impulse to stop running, approach woman, berate woman for her uninspiring words. Seriously? Pick it up? What, like we're slackers? Continue running. Increase my 20/30/whatever-second walk breaks to every 1/2 mile. Because I'm an undisciplined dork with no driving perspective.
MILES 23-25: Rain sprinkles, then starts again. Arrive in town. Try to look carefree when I think I hear my name. Turns out they're screaming, "Go, runners!", not "Go, Rahni!" Slow down again. Spot Rod ahead of me at Mile 25. Think about trying to speed up and run with him. Realize the improbablity/impossibility of that. Spectator yells false information, "Only 1.1 miles left!" Not possible because I haven't passed mile marker 25. Can't even SEE mile marker 25. Well-intentioned but cruel.
MILES 25-26.2: Finish line! Woman ahead of me collapses. I feel pounded, but not that bad. Whew. Chandra and Brin are waiting at the chute in the rain. Nice family. :o) Wander over to the tent that checks your chip time versus gun time. Takes off 8 minutes--yea! Better time. 4:47. Not what I was aiming for, but a better time. Next race at least under 4:30, if not 4:20. Definitely.

OCT 5th: Life feels empty. And sore. When's the next race?

Upon reflection, I've determined (somewhat belatedly in my life) that I'm somewhat prone to tunnel vision. Who knew that life existed after October 4th? But life indeed did go on . . . it included Les Miserables in an outdoor amphitheatre in the torrential rain, dinner with friends (Hey, Lanette!), 4.5 hours delay at the airport, friendly airplane companions, Tuesday Night Races through muddy Kincaid park with Bailey and Chelsea . . . good times.

So as not to leave you all hanging . . .

. . . in what I'm sure is EXTREME suspense, I ended up with my first inclination: my new(-ish) running shoe. To be more specific, the right running shoe. For the following, extremely logical reasons:

I'm vain--this shoe probably reflects my better qualities, rather than my beat up Danskos, which reflect more my reluctance to pony up for new shoes, or valuing comfort over appearance. Also, it matches my top I'll be wearing on Saturday--nice coincidence!

I'm gadgety--the right shoe had my Nike+iPod sensor on it (yes, I don't run for the sheer love of it, but more to hear the countdown of miles and congratulations that the anonymous man offers to me when completing a run).

I'm learning--I'm getting over the fact that I believe that running shoes are pricey at $30 (I think that's what a pair I bought in junior high cost). Trying to go now for quality over quantity. It's a struggle to fight against my inherently unadaptable-to-change personality! :o)

I like to turn anything into an object lesson--I waxed poetic about the fact that even though my last pair of shoes looked great on the outside, they had lost their bounce and effectiveness as a cushion between me and asphalt. I used to wear tennis shoes until the soles fell off, so it was an adjustment to me to realize that a pair may be toast but still look pretty and functional. Don't judge by appearances! Shoes only last about 300 miles or so, I've found out--much to my wallet's dismay.

And now my thoughts turn away from shoes and to this weekend's upcoming marathon!

Shoe Consideration

Tonight for Enrichment we're supposed to bring a shoe that represents us. Let me tell you, that's a lot of pressure. One shoe? Right or left? My used-to-be-black Danskos I wear almost every day of my life? My running shoes that have irreversibly bonded with my feet? Chaco sandals (what I wish I could wear, but rarely get the opportunity, due to workplace regulations)? My cute heels that cause me pain? The black leather knee-high boots that invariably make me feel slightly "edgy" (the ridiculousness of this fact reflecting my extremely tame Mormon girl upbringing)? Etc., etc., etc. I'm sure Sister Soule didn't mean to cause me such turmoil when she issued the request and thus I forgive. :o)

But, my word, what shoe would you choose to represent you? Just something to ponder . . .

"The Office" Wants Me

Why else would it name the new (albeit extremely temporary) receptionist in the pilot after me? An obvious shout-out, right? No? I'm reaching?

It's an understandable reach. Before this fall, the only Rahni/Ronnie/Ronny/Roni references I had to lean on were unimpressive at best, mortifying at worst.

Consider:

~Bobby Brown song . . . Roni, "The truth about Roni, she’s a sweet little girl . . ."

~Eddie Money song . . . Take Me Home Tonight, "Its just like Ronnie sang 'Be my little baby' . . ."

~a President who--while handsome in his youth--no GIRL wants to resemble

~obnoxious man on the cell phone commercial ("If Ronnie's phone could receive messages right now, he'd know not to . . ."

The Honeycomb Disaster of 'O8

Upon retrospect, it was a terrible idea to drive with a full bowl of cereal on my lap. My rushed morning kind of snowballed--took off running too late this morning to leave a reasonable amount of time to get ready, didn't adjust running time, showered with two applications of shampoo, not to mention conditioner (time-consuming), blow-dried my hair almost all the way with a diffuser to try out the new curl scrunch stuff I just bought, debated shoe choices, etc., and STILL decided to have Honeycombs for breakfast. After all, I just bought the box last night and I was excited about the opportunity to actually have cereal again--I never have time for breakfast.

Well, my foot slipped off of the clutch at one point this morning (wearing my "Jesus sandals" that Chandra brought me back from Israel years ago) and then, to my utter bewilderment and shocked surprise, I was suddenly soaked by a wave of milk and renegade 'Combs. My hair, shirt, skirt, shoes, steering wheel, legs--even my underwear--were absolutely soaked with milk. I even found a puddle of milk in a pair of shoes that I had left just under my driver's seat. So I drove home, shook out honeycombs onto the lawn from my skirt, washed up and changed. When I got back into the car I kept finding more and more droplets of milk dripping inexorably down, down, down.

And I looked cute, darn it!