travel-blogue

the panacea for a probing is a 40 minute spin class

2011-12-07T17:27:00.001-08:00

col·pos·co·py [kol-pos-kuh-pee] noun. it sounds so much friendlier in the medical lexicon than "pap smear with fondue fork".

i've had one of these done before; i know what to expect.

"oh, your blood pressure is slightly high today, i wonder if you're just anxious about the procedure...?"

[well, maybe if you had a cocktail and some peanuts on that metal trolley over there, oh wait, no, just long swabs, and a bunch of steel skewers in sanitized packaging, how about i lie back here on this sanitary napkin throw pillow and just relax].

if hasidic jews can fornicate through a 200 thread count sheet, then i honestly don't understand why, in this day and age, we can't have a more puritan approach to the pap.

and why do we need another person in the room?

"are you her back up? will you be sitting on me in case i decide to jump up and run?"

...

"no, she's here to pass me things."

and before the good doctor could even wax lyrical about the weather/holiday plans/my inconsequentially tipped uterus i steered the conversation to something far more comfortable; "so, do you have many people fart in your face when you do one of these?"

bless her, she started laughing into my crotch, "20 minutes ago, actually. occasionally, even with a little something solid".

i was told to come back in four months for a follow up probe. i'm bringing the fart machine next time.

sometimes it's just easier to make brownies out of a box

2011-12-03T15:40:00.001-08:00

'high maintenance' can be divided into two camps; the 'i need a coach purse for my birthday/valentines'/christmas/halloween/pancake day' kind (which was the reassuring "good god, not me" mantra in the early stages of any relationship), versus the; 'i don't need expensive things, i'm simple/easygoing/thrifty/don't believe your credit card bill should reflect your commitment, instead i want you to pay attention to the tiny nuances of my personality and make something or do something that resonates with that so i will become more giddy than girl-with-brown-on-beige-accessory'.

aka; a lot of work.

and so my request for the first anniversary, was to go camping. and take the mountain bikes. and kayak. with both dogs.

why the hell anyone would want to leave their own, already paid for, climate controlled environment with all of the key amenities, for an over-priced permanently 70/21 degree room- even if it has a five star restaurant/bar/jacuzzi, when there are whole patches of dirt, zip up windows and metal toilets that require shoes to commute to at 3 in the morning is beyond me.

the 'totally-not-high-maintenance' control issues kicked in, in preparation for a weekend in the woods. thank god for amazon.com and 'how to camp with your canine' books, coleman's selection of clip on, magnetic tent lights, the arbitrary 'tree trolley' for wayward and disobedient pooches, and a made-out-of-ballistic-material 'modular hauler' to organize, by colour code, the campsite electrics, french press, canine accoutrements, and assortment of bungee cords. preparation and anticipation, as with most things in the life of an obsessive-compulsive, is key. i even called ahead to make sure that the camp site was "dog friendly".

we were effectively 'tailgating'-- overnight. it must be a cultural thing, but this was a new york city tenement of camp sites, minus the protest. as a child of the 80's, pitching a tent in the middle east meant there were no neighbours except the ones your parents brought for 'booze backup'. camping in dog friendly northern maine is all about sharing 100 square feet of dirt with homesteaders and their monogrammed bird baths.

it's a bayyyyyyy-beeeeeeeeeeee!

2011-11-10T15:06:00.000-08:00

look! a baby! she's even my pseudo mini-me, and the most difficult and uncomfortable thing i had to do was shell out for a transatlantic plane ticket.

i got to spend a week 'job shadowing' my sister-in-law and 8 week old niece-- minus the breastfeeding and nappy changing. kind of like my brother, i'm still; "building up to it".

and so we all surfaced from our beds (at different times, mind you) to a groundhog day of; feeding, burping, cuddling, jiggling, changing, napping; feeding, burping, cuddling, jiggling, changing, napping;...drinking wine.

in addition to learning the ins and outs of the labour, hearing a great story about projectile poo flying out of her bottom (baby, not s-i-l) across the changing table, i got loads of practice doing the infant macarena; sway, sway, lunge, lunge, grand plie in second, repeat until lactic fatigue. yep. it's a lot of work, and there really is no per diem option.

"you'd be a great mummy/you're a natural/look how at ease you are with her". sure, you can take one look at a kenyan and know he's going to set records, win medals and suddenly obtain U.S. citizenship. i'm just not convinced that this means you can cherrypick a winning breeder.

i suppose one of the handy things about having a sibling is that can they can act as the proverbial canary in a mine shaft-- fortunately after seven days, i hadn't keeled over in my bird cage.

keep calm and carry on

2011-09-20T05:13:00.000-07:00

i was about six or seven when why my avi died. we were living in the united arab emirates at the time, and i remember seeing my mum take that phone call- all of it. we flew back to england for the funeral, it was cold, everyone was crying, i didn't want to be part of any of that.

my amma passed away when i was 17, i was at boarding school, i got the phone call from my mum, she was so upset, i couldn't say anything to make it go away, i knew she was overwhelmed by it all, i couldn't and wouldn't try and empathize with her, because then i had to deal with the concept that one day it would be her, and she would be me. so instead of going home that weekend, i went to my friend's birthday party- my mum told me i should go. then we had her funeral, i was there, we were all there, i felt the same way i did when i was six.

i am 36, today my dziadza passed away. he was old, he had been struggling with cancer, but he was one of those people who was just invincible. he got caught up in the chaos of world war two as a young boy; sent by train to siberia from poland, separated from his family. he fought for his country and for freedom for europe, he came to england with my babcia and married her at 16. he had some made for movie type stories.

i have a friend who's family get together for dinner twice a year- well, more than twice a year- but twice a year as the 'original five'; mum, dad and three girls. no spouses, no kids, just them; before all the major life stuff happened. she knows that some day there will be a place setting missing at the table. now that my dziadz is gone, i know this means everyone moves up a place. and i move back to my place of 'not thinking about it'.

you may say that i'm a dreamer, but i'm not the only one...

2011-06-17T17:16:00.000-07:00

father's day is almost here (again), and not un-like mother's day, facebook has kindly prompted it's masses to copy and paste (and post) assorted pater related paraphernalia (south africa, 1975, dad is third from the left, next to mum, both sitting behind me).

but which photo? staring at the albums i got that same glazed over feeling which happens at baskin & robbins. but this is the one i went with; awali, bahrain, sometime in the mid 80's, on his way to work to do a couple of fillings. there were a lot of different names on the house signs, some in arabic, but as far as i can remember there weren't any others that started and ended with a z-- and believe me, there are a lot of arabic names that do.

at this point i think it is fairly evident that i cant commit to much of anything-- and i do thank, not blame, my dad for that (it is his fault about the flat feet though) geographical transience can do that to a person. iceland; circa. we were very small-- somewhere in the 3 foot range-- but this demonstrates how the fedorowicz's never travel light, regardless of how much practicing at it goes on.

then there was the "badass" one where he ran the comrades ultra-marathon in south africa (that's 90k south of the equator) some time in the late 70's.

or the one where he took "teenage me" mountain biking around the jebel (bahrain) with his windsurfing buddies, post-gulf war (the first one).

speaking of windsurfing...sheik's beach, bahrain, the 90's.

there was also the apres 'ride around the desert', in the paddling pool, with floating beer...

scuba diving in the red sea in the 80's. well, diving and drinking home brewed wine for the grown ups, ripping apart sea cucumbers and starfish for the under 9's.

and the "poo thing"...duba, saudi arabia; we were so proud of the home made camping toilet that was the sum product of the fedorowicz, wood and barnes families' hard labour.

because this is what we all had to put up with before; a shovel, sand dune and a roll of andrex...

always a family favourite, dad laughing uncontrollably while pointing out the giant, steaming pile the horse (that just carried his son and future daughter-in-law away by carriage) left behind. (keysoe, england, 5-ish years ago).

my birthday card (from my brother), detailing the finer points of a dog's bum, caused such silent mirth and tears of appreciation, that we could not miss the opportunity to document it (buckden, england, two-ish summers ago).

at this point, it's clearly evident that freud would have a field day; the apple cant even be pried off the tree. dad in his dental chair, bahrain.

last christmas.

"you're pretty athletic"

2011-03-06T12:25:00.000-08:00

was the complimentary feedback i received halfway down sugarloaf mountain from "mr double black diamond". clearly he hasn't noticed the frequent withdrawals from our checking account that go to active.com on a fairly regular basis. nevertheless, he had been on at me for the last couple of years to give downhill skiing a go so that we could have "something to do together", why he just cant be happy that we both enjoy a bit of bravo tv from the same couch i do not know.

ski resorts; clearly i have been missing out on a whole new realm of people watching. north face aside, many seem to view it as an opportunity to showcase their collection of voluminous snowflake sweaters. i took it as one to test the commitment of my relationship.

starting with the ski boots. not only do those things bloody hurt, but they make it virtually impossible to maneuver 25 metres from the rental place to the 'staging area'. this doesn't even factor in balancing two extremely cumbersome and overpriced pieces of wood on one clavicle, while trying not to poke someone else in the crotch with a pole. 2,400 centimetres later and it's time to rearrange everything in order to get on the bloody chairlift, which was "fun" (sort of like an amusement park), until we stopped, mid-mountain, due to wind gusts, and just hung there helplessly swinging in the swirl.

and the hills were indeed alive with assorted expletives.

fortunately ours made it to the summit (and i was able to disembark with all equipment intact), to a snowstorm; all the better to propel us down a mountain that no one could actually see. so...if a couple can survive a cross country road trip (we did-- twice), then they need to try skiing from high altitude together. after a brief tantrum, i determined that passive-aggressive would be the best strategy to facilitate a sooner apres-ski, and guarantee that i would never be asked to go again.

and so i made full use of the many, many faceplants, lying like a dead starfish, waiting to be plucked, along with far flung skis and poles, from the snow and pine trees. "i hate skiing/winter/this/why did you bring me here/i cant do this/it's too steep/i'm never doing it again/this is your thing, not mine/stop trying to force me to do your stuff/this isn't fun".

neither my behaviour or technique were pretty, let alone gracious and graceful. and had there been video footage, rather like people who choose to record their boudoir moments, i don't know that i would ever pick up a set of poles again.

it took us 45 minutes to get down the mountain when it should have taken eight. it felt like two hours.

but i did make the "noise".

i did it all for the t-shirt

2011-02-28T03:57:00.000-08:00

my second (and final) snowshoe race of the year went significantly better than the first. i did not finish last, instead climbing up to third from the end. this may have had something to do with the fact that we three back of packers kept a nice, even pace the first 2.5 mile loop. that, and borrowing a pair of "racing" snowshoes. it's amazing how much easier the whole process is when there aren't ironing boards strapped to the bottom of your feet.

and much like the elusive 'runner's toenail', i can't seem to acquire 'snowshoer's bum'.

show us your bibs!

2011-02-17T16:32:00.001-08:00

new orleans, what better place to run a long distance foot race than during mardi gras season; it's flat, temperatures are not "sweat pooling in your butt crack and belly button" and there are plenty of doughnuts, i mean beignets, to fortify the fat stores before the big event.

while we did see michael j fox in the arrivals hall at louis armstrong international, i was somewhat surprised, given the season, at the lack of trannies handing out cytomax along the actual course- by the time i came shuffling through the aid station, even the most hung over should have been up and scarfing a bacon wrapped beignet or two. however, the route masters did a great job of touring us through "things from tv and the pages of people magazine in real life"-- the superdome and media focus of hurricane katrina hysteria (apparently also a football team), the funereal skyline of above ground mausoleums, mark twain's mississippi river, complete with big noisy paddle steamers lumbering by, and the quaint neon charm of larry flynt's hustler clubs in quicker succession than antebellum porches shaded by spanish moss.

so aside from all of the other verbs-- "drink"; hurricanes, martinis, cosmopolitans, and a shiraz called "ass kisser", "shop"; or at least try to figure out how to get the lady at the joe malone counter in SAKS to give us flutes of champagne- apparently it's two more decades and a very pronounced 'botox face', "eat"; anything that swam, scavenged or mooed covered in beans, rice and grits, "play"; 'talking to random strangers at the bar', which definitely gets more mileage than 'talking to random strangers you are sitting next to on the flight from portland to laguardia, and "people watch"; a couple getting engaged in the grass at franklin park, we did "run", and because i still haven't figured out how to do more than charge the bloody garmin, i used basic maths-- fairly accurately (for me). 1 under cross-trained/over run left knee with a history of dislocation minus 13.1 equals 13.1 (yes, i scaled down to the half, keep up people) divided by a bunch of other halves where i now know an acceptable pace per mile marker and when to ramp things up, equals me crossing the finish line in (personal) record time with fatigued legs, but not feeling like i just want to lie on the tarmac for 35 minutes and aspirate sport's beans. 2:07:21. final answer: i am officially on target to kick oprah's ass time at the next 26.2

another eskimo word for "snow"; "what the bloody hell are you thinking?! you cant ride in this".

2011-01-30T13:51:00.000-08:00

i cant drive in snow, so i'm not entirely sure why removing two whole wheels and swapping the remainders for something an eighth of their size would translate into my being more capable of not only remaining vertical, but maintaining a straight, and somewhat forward, momentum.

fortunately, snow is soft. unfortunately, when most of the time is spent falling into it, it's also rather cold.

much like the unfathomable "leaves on the line" that are capable of bringing the entire london underground to a grinding halt, i had not only chosen "the wrong kind of snow", but it was "too warm" (at 30 degrees F). while colder temperatures, less tyre pressure, different trail conditions and perhaps a set of training wheels could have resulted in a lot less time spent horizontal, i would argue that quite a lot of time was in fact conducted in a very upright position; 'stationary, eating gummy bears in the middle of the doubletrack, and having a gripe about how not fun this was'.

i'm the same age as when you and my mummy met!

2011-01-25T15:26:00.000-08:00

it has been a whopping quarter of a century since the 'saudi arabia days', which means a lot of notes to share...

somewhere after baking and playing barbies, we started to do many of the things our respective sets of parents had done; like producing multiples of children and moving somewhere else (and then somewhere else...).

tis better to be DFL than DNF

2011-01-23T15:44:00.000-08:00

i own snowshoes, enjoy being out on wooded trails, and even somewhat like running, or maybe it's co-dependent relationship with my preferred daily calorie count. therefore, when the opportunity to not only run in snowshoes, but race in them, for a paltry $15 registration, turned the decision making process into "screw it, i'll do it". the 11am start time was kind of a bonus.

'running-in-snowshoes' lesson of the day: oddly enough, what one wears to hike the dogs in, are not what you should be strapping to your feet to negotiate 3.5 miles of trail-- at speed. it was the equivalent of turning up at a cycling race with a hybrid bike, or your local charity 5k wearing a pair of skechers "shape ups".

apparently, i also need to work on technique, because fast people have snow encrusted bums by the time they cross the finish line.

dear "jim"...

2010-11-16T19:16:00.000-08:00

ending our relationship back in the spring was the right thing to do at the time. it became clear to me when all i felt was dread, and started making up excuses to avoid regular contact. i finally accepted that the long haul just wasn't in our collective future.

conditions were right at the time, but now they've changed and i am faced with the prospect of groveling for another chance-- the snow is coming, and the days are shorter.

i am materialistic, i'll admit it, i only want you for your treadmill.

xxx

you could cut glass with those nipples

2010-11-07T17:14:00.000-08:00

this was pretty much the weather forecast for the maine coast women's half marathon this past weekend. and yet approximately 1,200 runners (that's about 2,400 ovaries) pitched up in assorted combinations of pink wicking spandex to brave the harsher end of tepid.

any sporting event that promotes itself purely on the basis of a matching set of chromosomes has the potential to be as annoying as one of those scented candle parties. fortunately, the act of slapping on a timing chip and bib number cancels out too much of the "kumbaya" and ratchets up the competition.

(because i really wont get out of bed for anything less than a 10k).

i am more hirsute with my clothes on than off (and other gifts that come with canine cohabitation)

2010-10-31T18:14:00.000-07:00

the 'barmy dog lady with no kids of her own' transformation is almost complete- minus the stuffed corpse of little buddy/bucky/bradie, circa. 1984 in repose, underfoot.

while there aren't swings, slides and merry-go-rounds to punt the poodles off of at the dog park, there is an endless supply of poo, mud pits, and bum holes to stimulate each sensory function. because dog owners ultimately share the same side of the crazy coin as their oft ridiculed feline fanatic cousins, which goes beyond playing dress up and naming them "napoleon" or "cappuccino". let's take "oxymoron" who is brought to the park for the requisite exercise and socialization, but then immediately admonished for acquiring a thick saliva/dirt crust as a result of engaging in aforementioned activities. last time i tried tiring myself out with something as taxing as running, it did in fact require a more significant form of ablutions than simply licking my feet clean. apparently it is more arduous to hose off a dog than it is to redecorate the living room.

admittedly the last thing anyone wants is notoriety for being responsible for "The Problem Pooch", however public displays of mounting, nipping and bodyslamming will guarantee immediate titleship. axel is two for three.

we sleep in a pile every night, and while the sheets smell of fabric softener, they are also coated in a fine sheen of drool.

i paid $85 for sore muscles and rope burn

2010-10-23T17:19:00.000-07:00

the 'enlarge your penis size' junk e-mailers might consider putting "military grade obstacle course with 15 different disciplines" in their subject line, because chances are i would actually open it up and maybe even whip out the credit card.

the shawnee peak challenge was indeed both the noun and verb it marketed itself to be. scenic vistas of foliage and lakes were enjoyed after a run, and by run, i mean shuffle, on all fours, up the ski slope, three times. i may have over-romanticized the concept of crawling under cargo nets up (and down) the mountain side, a little. but aforementioned scenery was enjoyed at the summit, although any of that crisp, autumnal, fresh mountain air i had hoped to partake of was eclipsed by the taste of my own lungs.

i was personally delighted to see the staff photographers of brightroom.com manning their positions by the cargo nets, ready to capture bottoms straddling the top beam from every angle.

booze in a bag

2010-10-17T19:02:00.000-07:00

i drink wine from a box-- on a semi-regular basis. which means i have officially become my parents- in their thirties, not sixties, that would involve duty-free sized bottles of gin. things have changed- a little- since then. the empties my then, six year old brother, and i were given to use as booze cruise floaties in the novotel pool used to be all silvery and space suit looking, now you just get a giant sandwich bag with a spout- the box to bottle equivalent of a cork versus screw top. fortunately my parents were able to redeem their lower end table wine loving selves once we moved from the u.a.e. to 'dry' saudi arabia.

there is a perception that the middle east is one giant sand pit where people live in tents and children go to their biology and history lessons via camel. the truth is, central AC is far more common there than in england, and you can buy grape juice, pre-pressed, in bottles; cases of them.

our villa even had a "wine room", which is different to a cellar, and family trips to the supermarket revolved around the usual cornflakes/milk/eggs/12 pack of loo roll on the shopping list, but also chucking a 500 gram bag of sugar and box of yeast into the trolley. perhaps it was naive of our parents to assume that cashiers thought all the expats were making loaves of grape bread?

in lieu of the impending holiday debauchery, i am reminded that it is ultimately tradition, imprinted from childhood, that creates a sense of home and associated behavioural patterns.

like restlessness and drinking.

will ride for gummy bears, not patrick dempsey

2010-10-11T15:41:00.000-07:00

the loo is a grossly underrated spot for the kind of multi-tasking that involves drinking coffee, putting in contact lenses, doing the hair, flossing, and wriggling (at least ankle way) into a pair of bike shorts at 6:52 in the morning.

i even got to check facebook.

dr. mcdreamy returned to maine for more chamois and cancer awareness by bringing together a community full of fundraising taints willing to endure 15, 25, 50 or a 100 miles of chafing amongst the foliage. however, what seemed like an absolutely splendid- because it was mostly remote- idea in january fizzled into not a whole lot of pledge solicitation or saddle time come august and september. fortunately there was zero tolerance amongst our team for dropping down to the 25- let alone dropping out- for fear of being left out. one personal cheque later, and i was attaching a $200 bib number on with a nappy pin at 7am.

(i ate about $1.75 worth of high priced, high fructose corn syrup at the SAG stops).

forgive me, but it's been three years since my last yucky doctor appointment

2010-09-13T16:00:00.000-07:00

"i know you have a different priority to focus on for the next 5 minutes, but i just took my shoes off, and i'm so sorry, but my feet really smell".

it's hard to break the ice with the professional who will be poking around in your tropic of capricorn, and the 10-15 minutes spent sitting and waiting on a piece of medical baking parchment provides a wonderful opportunity to notice all of the other things that will now be scrutinized from a different angle. or just a time to reflect on my own standards of personal hygiene and the fact that i probably should have at least removed the last few chippings of toenail polish/pumiced off the calluses/not (repeatedly) picked at the bug bite on my ankle, which now looks purple and somewhat necrotic/shaved my legs in even lawn stripes (versus the hacked up weedwacker stubble).

i considered (for about 3 seconds), whipping out a cellphone to tell her i just wanted to tweet from the twat doctor's, but i also really wanted to ask if many people had farted in her face. instead, i just haemorrhaged from the mouth.

"those scabs that look like rug burn- i fell down on a trail run yesterday. and err, those bruises on my calves are from bike pedals. and uhm, you're going to see some really odd looking chafing, but that's from a 17 mile run i did last weekend".

and after running the baby belly gauntlet in the waiting room to the exit, she gave me absolution for another year.

the bloody 12 mile bruiser

2010-09-12T18:22:00.000-07:00

i did all three races, made some new friends, left some skin on the trail, and took some dirt home with me-- along with a hoodie that says i'm a badass.

(crawling through) mud, barbed wire, pond water and drainage pipes is apparently more attractive to women than a 75% off sale at banana republic

2010-08-29T15:32:00.000-07:00

i do not do 5k's. they hurt too much and are over before you can watch a complete episode of "hoarders", not to mention you barely burn off enough calories to accommodate the finish line bagel and half banana.

however, if race organizers plot a course at a ski resort, where you have to run up the 'soooo-not-a-nursery-slope', while snow guns blast you with 100 gallons of water per second, then i'm all about laying down some money for a bib number.

truthfully, i just wanted an opportunity to leave some of my ass cheek on the most enormous slip and slide down the mountain.

any remaining dermis was sloughed off in the spa portion of sunday river's tough mountain challenge.

allowing participants to feel revitalized and refreshed for that final sprint across the cargo net, to jump through a 'ring of fire' finish line.

the REAL, real housewives

2010-08-19T17:01:00.001-07:00

were i (and assorted photojournalist/social worker/museum development director girlfriends) to be fortunate enough to play the role of real, 'real housewives', it is highly improbable that there would be much video footage of us camped out at the botox doctor taking tennis lessons while learning the finer points of jewelry making.

the question is: what would we do?

"shopping" could really only soak up the first few days of housewifedom, quickly becoming tedious (and expensive). no matter how much stock in the portfolio, REAL, real housewives are still more inclined to go to tj maxx than t. hilfiger, because let's face it, REI has only so much north face going on closeout per season. yet like our mcmansion living counterparts, we too enjoy activities that keep us lean and 'not puffy'. rather, my fellow ladies of leisure would be filmed engaging in a regimen of anything but: yoga/pilates/zumba related exercise, and other pursuits that don't involve launching an organic moonrock make-up line or sexually ambiguous pop career. afternoons can then be dedicated to volunteerism and fundraising (doing what we did pre-R,RH status, except for free, rather than just peanuts), because as far as i'm concerned our less fortunate brethren have the same right to access crap reality tv and a shopping basket full of organic soy milk and puffed oat cereal at whole foods.

well, at least it's a nice day to go for a hike.

2010-08-08T18:27:00.000-07:00

several months ago it seemed like a not un-good idea to do two foot races back-to-back. it would have been the equivalent of saying no to chocolate mousse torte and cheesecake-- why can't you just have biscuits and mascarpone a la mousse? the beach to beacon road race on-line registration caps out by 6:08am. if you are one of the unfortunates with a dial up connection, then those 7 minutes and 59 seconds can be more grueling than the actual 10k itself. and so i was one of the lucky ones who got to wake up at the sparrow's fart on a saturday to eat porridge (when i wasn't hungry), throw coffee down my throat (when i wasn't actually ready to be conscious), and then sit on the toilet (when i wasn't even remotely dilated). all to show up at the start line, run way faster than felt enjoyable, in order to cross the finish dizzy and nauseous. but a minute and some change sooner than last year, damnit.

sunday: 9 miles of uphill trail running, err, hiking, but mostly running, on the flats. flat-ish flats, as flat as you can get on a mountain. first year doing this one, so i was just focused on keeping the expectations low, in order for an impressive PR next year.

way more fun because i got to say i raced the day before and was therefore "sore", "tired", and "not really racing, but just enjoying the journey".

and the best t-shirt i've ever put over a wet, salty sport's bra.

africa's (other) big five

2010-08-04T17:28:00.001-07:00

it is said that "you can never go home", and having been dragged halfway around the world and back again growing up, i don't know that i would even begin to know where i couldn't return to. however, i can go back to the country where i was born. and left. and moved back to. and then left again. which also sounds like a rather familiar pattern in my relationships. anyway. we made the 17 in-flight-hours-not-including-6-sitting-in-transit-at-a-generic-yuppie-bar-in-heathrow honeymoon pilgrimage south of the equator. which gave me plenty of time to ponder which box i wanted to check to identify my profession on the immigration form.

memory is an interesting thing, especially remembering the earlier ones you've forgotten about. landscape became my primary trigger; random mental images of biting into tart apples, sitting in the back of a station wagon, on a family road trip, playing "what's the capital of...?"

africa as a continent truly surpasses north america for it's topography, language, culture, food and dangerous bitey things.

fortunately baboons aren't too particular about whether they urinate in ceramic bowls or on stone walls.

i am not one to take a lot of tedious "scenery" pictures, because people tend to be more interesting- as long as they're not just standing in front of scenery. south africa isn't scenery, as anyone can see from the pictures.

and here's a "people" picture.

bourbon, barbie and birthdays

2010-07-19T11:02:00.000-07:00

what better way to celebrate another year closer to being "almost 40" than booze...

cake...

and rafting.

as long as the turbulence on the 12 hour flight to cape town is not "class IV".

it's better than doing it on tarmac, but not as good as doing it with the knobbies

2010-07-11T08:05:00.000-07:00

once again, i heard myself muttering something to the effect of "i'm only running a piddly 6 miles, there'll be plenty of shade, and the fun singletrack will distract from any other complaints, it wont be that bad".

of course all of these statements were correct at the start line, and then again approximately 3 minutes after crossing the finish. it was the hour and some change in between where my heart rate spiked and pretty much stayed there. fortunately this did create an intermittent distraction from the high concentration of water fleeing my body which i am convinced was contributing to the equally dense air that was re-inhaled.

thankfully the 9 miles of 'elevation only' trail at next month's follow-up race will take my mind off minor things like breathing and excessive perspiration.

owning a dining room table will not improve your scrabble game, culinary skills or ability to get a date

2010-07-10T05:54:00.001-07:00

not unlike the treadmills that become overpriced clothes hangers, a dining room table is typically the repository for boring, and therefore unopened mail, keys, purses, and assorted drinks glasses to leave water mark crop circles on.

over the course of the last few months, having been repeatedly informed that i was about to achieve the pinnacle of womanly self-actualization simply by virtue of wearing an overpriced white dress for four hours, how disappointing it was to learn that furniture trumps tafetta.

nothing says 'happy nuptuals' like swamp ass and bourbon

2010-06-28T19:29:00.000-07:00

it's true what "they" say; it will all pass in a blur and you won't get to eat much of anything. and so the haphazardly orchestrated romantic-comedy-musical which was my kentucky wedding, became just that. i now see pictures posted on facebook that i don't even remember being taken, and i don't think i ever saw one green chili wonton appetizer, let alone got to finish the same glass of wine- which could also be related to the ceremony/reception fugue.

obviously 'the days leading up to' involved much last minute stress including whether or not to buy gin, rum and vodka at costco, or go the whole hog and get gin, rum, vodka, and bourbon for the rehearsal/reunion garden party/dinner. hands were wrung with frustration (countless rounds of hand wringing).

not to mention the 'shit-i-have-less-than-four-days-to-get-this-new-dress-altered' issue. thankfully, between much of the aforementioned alcohol and my new found fairy godmother who was working her sewing machine off in the heart of st. mathews, all was (mostly) amicably resolved.

fortunately, there was sufficient down time so that "the boys" (plus a few select spouses) were able to head down to the buffalo trace distillery, en masse, to get roasted on beverages infused in oak barrels (the other alternative being the creation museum up near cincinnati). this freed up time for the bride to engage in the usual girly things like going to make-up shops and working on (awkward) tan lines for "the dress".

finally, the BIG DAY arrived and the "staging area" was intentionally stocked with friends, fizzy alcohol and guacamole to help with last minute editing of the vows. until my brother, a perpetual victim of my noxious predilection for garlic, walked into a room reeking of onions and promptly left in disgust.

despite stringent efforts to avoid anything girly, i committed my own personal emotional foul; leaking- which is not the same as "crying". shortly after mooning my frilly pink knickers to a former co-worker, i saw another office mate who had flown in from new mexico the night before. wow...people...had...taken...time...and...money...to...make...the...effort...to...
see...me...dress...up...and...say...a...bunch...of...stuff...to...someone...that...they...
had...more...than...likely...never...met...up...to...this...point...and...even...though...
we...would...probably...only...have...a...total...of...7...minutes...of...actual...face...
to...face...time...they...came...anyway. this very thing was part of the whole 'courthouse versus wedding' decision. because people will always find a way to make it to a wedding (or funeral)- as long as there is "open bar" written on the invitation. and as such, we both got to see familiar faces from 12-15 years ago. so, while i did win the 'less expensive outfit' contest, he cleaned house on the 'who's going to cry first' challenge.

and all of those little things that i fixated on, in an effort to try and make things less "weddingy", ergo "boring" and cliche worked, eliciting the appropriate and therefore self-gratifying responses; an ebullient officiant (and former mattress store manager); invitations showcasing two sets of big glasses and a ramen noodle perm; europe's "final countdown" on sax as i was escorted down the aisle by both mum and dad, and the fun luggage tag favours- triggering hoarding behaviour amongst some attendees.

then there were the saucy cocktail napkins, sign in jigsaw puzzle depicting the marital black toenail cutting, a first dance to "ring of fire", and of course cake. the only criteria being that it had to either cramp up the ovaries upon visual contact (not gender specific), or result in a full on face plant.

finally, i have been astounded by all of the talented and creative people who made things happen. and while there was no 'bridal party' there were many worthy of a baby blue taffeta number with bows and puffed sleeves.

(photography courtesy of burt reynolds).

something old, and something about 10 days new

2010-06-20T15:33:00.000-07:00

in an effort to avoid those awkward, tearful, mother-daughter touchy feely moments that routinely happen (just watch 10 minutes of TLC on any day, you'll see) when there is a big, white dress, i had planned my strategy two years ago; buy several metres of thai silk and find a person proficient in 'sewing machine' to recreate an a-line dress that i already own and enjoy.

turns out my seamstress was more versed in embellishing sweatshirts for elementary school teachers. karma was clearly coming to give me a big old slap around the selfish daughter chops, as my mum was almost in tears at fitting #2; so off we went to the bridal boutique.

5 dresses, and 20 minutes later, we had identified 'the one'. my outfit was still cheaper than the groom's, which means i still win.

what do a padded bra, christmas tree ornament, bathmat and squeegee have in common?

2010-06-18T19:00:00.000-07:00

my mum never travels light. this visit she came baring two suitcases, one of which was a veritable mary poppins gift bag. i have since acquired; several t-shirts (3/4 length and short sleeved, both black and white), two skirts, three dresses (all appropriate for summer weddings), pyjamas, a push up bra, decorative wine bottle cover, christmas presents for other people's children, and i even get to keep the suitcase it all came in. the winner by far, is definitely the radiator duster; "look, it's really good, you can get between all the nooks and crannies, see? my god, it's filthy in there, don't you dust?"

she even vacuumed the dog.

on your left! hey, aren't you supposed to be planning a wedding?

2010-06-13T17:42:00.000-07:00

with less than a few weeks to go, i have been cramming for the big day thanks to WE tv's "bridezilla" marathon. the time is nigh to panic about puffy arm fat.

fortunately, the 9th annual women's bike ride in freeport, maine provided an opportunity to fight the bulge and assorted subcutaneous layers of panic by enjoying scenic coastline, vast corn fields, and 7 figure real estate.

is it better to sustain a haematoma than shit your chamois?

2010-06-10T19:27:00.000-07:00

today, my girlfriend who also ran the 25k trail race a few weeks ago, showed me her toenails; in the car park after we had returned from a veritable mountain bike bruise-fest. she had already lanced two, and was harvesting just one more purple piggie. mine were still boring, crayola shades of 'macaroni and cheese' and desert sand'.

a week ago, i was the grossed out, yet also somewhat jealous, witness to a post-road ride puke-fest. i have only personally attained dizzy spells and intestinal nausea following a marathon, but nary a regurg-ed carrot piece, or any other measurable unit of emesis have i produced.

sadly, i haven't even progressed much further than the mid-run 'waddle-into-nearby-bushes-to-shamefully-but-with-much-relief-drop-my-shorts-because-the-coffee-hadn't-kicked-in-that-morning' rite of bodily passage.

how to clean a room faster than mary poppins

2010-06-03T18:14:00.000-07:00

it is a common fact, that when they are not napping, crapping or sleeping, domesticated animals spend their remaining hours creating drool puddles on the pillow, slobber smears everywhere else, and piles of body hair in assorted crannies of the living space.

an applied metanalysis into the everyday, dull task of housework, not to mention basic consequence and behaviour theories, is that those who create are also the ones to elutriate. johnson and johnson, proctor and gamble, and swiffer brand would be better served throwing their research bucks at the dog breeders. chore day would then be every day if axel's salivary glands produced windex or lemon scented pledge. those overpriced plug-ins are now obsolete if your pooch can fart a spring meadow. and cleaning the carpet is a cinch; just skip the next anal gland squeezing at the groomer's and let your little moppet do the butt scoot with their shampoo secreting organs.

never under-estimate the trail

2010-05-31T05:55:00.001-07:00

day two of the pineland farms trail festival and it was the girl's turn to go the distance. because after all, "a 25k is just like running around the lake with a few more miles thrown in- and it's not like i'm doing the 50k or 50 miler, like those other nutters out there today".

and so we ran 'the course of a thousand hills', because really, the only thing consistent throughout the race (clearly not my heart rate or pace) were the unrelenting inclines. runners hurriedly shuffled across wide, open, scorched farmland to get to the respite of some shaded trail, to then grind to a trudging halt when confronted with 7 or 8 rollers, before resurfacing into yet another field.

a few hours (and several litres of cytomax) later, we crossed into the finish chute (thankfully bidding farewell to the 50 miler's who had registered for a third loop) burnt, bitten, salt encrusted, and turgid with gummy bears and pretzels.

axel eats small children for breakfast

2010-05-29T12:57:00.001-07:00

pineland farms is a former sanatorium that was recently converted into a year round playground for all the things anyone worth their north face collection could ever hope to do on a trail. this weekend includes races of varying distance that can be done barefoot, wheel barrow style, as a 3-legged event, and even with your very own four-legged friend. because more so than those crazy 'cat people', the dog owner will go to great lengths to anthropomorphize their pooch, forking out $30 for a chance to run with their pal (and a technical race t-shirt) in a 5k "canicross".

typically race regulations set limits on the use of mp3's, placement of bib number, and tripping your fellow competitors in the start corral. in canicross, disqualification occurs if you do not pick up after your dog (this may have more to do with the fact that the barefoot 5k's start time was after), and so it is entirely realistic that runner's will have to make a pit stop and then transport a little sack of steamers across the finish line as well.

unfortunately, axel was beaten by a girl, and a small yappie one at that.

overall, he enjoyed the scenic course, appreciated the placement of aide stations, and has even committed to registering again next year- although he wants a race number too.

i think that this may be due, in large part, to the unlimited and free beer available to all runners.

ask and ye shall receive; burning quads and a full body bug bite

2010-05-24T16:50:00.000-07:00

i'm not sure how the transition from 'young and single' or 'single-into-the-third-decade-and-now-i've-forgotten-how-to-share-the-duvet-or-my-cute-stain-free-towels-from-tj-maxx', to legalized cohabitation is best done by decking oneself out in a condom covered t-shirt, flashing your bits while getting out of a stretched white hummer, just so you can down cough syrup shots at nineteen different bars. i've seen the divorce statistics in US weekly magazine.

limits were thus set on a bridal shower/bachelorette "thing" that had to be completely devoid of twinsets, quiche, mike's hard lemonade or plastic penis paraphernalia. so we put on sensible shoes, covered ourselves in bug repellant and hiked up a mountain.

and then hiked back down under the influence. fortunately the only wildlife that we had to contend with were colourful bears, highly concentrated in corn syrup, and several bottles of fresh water, organic champagne basking in the rock pools.

finally, there is nothing like the relief of seeing a giant turd in the middle of the trail (for the second time), after riding around lost in the woods for three hours (last weekend's foray into the wilderness). there is also nothing like returning from champagne on the mount, to a patio full of men that have been working the grill.

and cake.

older, wiser, faster

2010-05-04T18:40:00.000-07:00

progress can be measured on the track when you are able to keep up with the old men in ambiguously stained, cotton race t-shirts, circa 1978.

the 8 minute mile pack is a quieter group, less interested in (listening to my) whining, but always ready with advice on form and pace.

i feel like i'm back running with my dad.

a "jackass" baby story

2010-04-29T17:55:00.000-07:00

midgets jumping into ceiling fans, colonic irrigation with blenders and a geriatric's supermarket trolley derby around parking garages are just a few of my favourite things.

so when an unmarried, childless, slowly re-forming comittment averse (i have managed to keep a labrador alive for over a year) female is responsible for co-facilitating a gathering dedicated solely to the recently knocked up, the experience quickly becomes an exercise in anxiety regulation.

in order to fully establish an atmosphere conducive to celebrating 'soon-to-be-screaming-and-incontinent-100%-dependent-upon-you' life, one must first set the mood. so, rather than resorting to the ever popular pink/blue/"we don't want to know yellow" colour palette, a simple black and orange provides a natural backdrop for decorating with both dremel and craftsman products (and can be re-used later at halloween).

now traditionally, showers require organized group "fun" for both 'soon-to-be...' and guests to enjoy-- which means playing with safety pins, toilet paper, and other random paraphernalia from the storage closet and kitchen junk drawer. however, in keeping with the current theme, friends and family are able to mark the occasion with a few rounds of spin the breast milk bottle, pin the cracked nipple on the engorged boob, and a rollicking game of old fashioned fetus pinata. energy levels are thus sustained by an ongoing buffet; placenta pie, mucous plug milkshakes, and the crowd pleaser, afterbirth bruschetta.

finally; presents. it should be noted that this registry is sponsored by johnny knoxville and beatrix potter.

choking the chicken

2010-04-19T17:22:00.000-07:00

it is a natural, genetic and biologically driven instinct for all living things to engage in the occasional, disconcerting bout of behaviour, however, it is far more alarming to actually see them doing it, especially when you have a box seat view.

every weekend, axel gets a super concentrated round of hiking and socialization with 6 other dogs, all in varying degrees of age, size and hormone level. one of his contemporaries, a golden retriever prone to sporadic, yet highly focused episodes of humping, lives with a lovely, wholesome family who do good things for mother earth like drive eco-happy cars, grow salad and raise their own free range breakfast foods. their property also backs up onto the trail head.

despite a diet heretofore limited to dry food, AAA batteries, and sunglasses, the big yellow dog made an immediate and supersonic conversion to organic, atkins, and cannibal when their hapless foul pecked onto his gastric radar. meanwhile i was left chasing a feathery wake that rivaled the entrails of a queen sized duvet.

fortunately chickens are hard wired to "play dead" and labradors are designed with "soft jaws".

(afterglow)

dialogueing for the diagnostically opposed

2010-04-12T16:52:00.000-07:00

- have you seen my wallet?

- no.

- but i had it in one of the bags when i brought in the stuff from the supermarket- which YOU unpacked.

- who puts their wallet in a shopping bag?

- well what did you do with it when you put away the food?

- i don't know, i don't remember seeing it (WHO puts their wallet in a shopping bag?)

- you must have thrown it away.

- why would i throw your wallet away? (WHY would you put your wallet in a shopping bag?)

[much rifling through the rubbish bin]

- it might behoove you to identify one location for your sunglasses/watch/wallet/keys, besides the roof of the car/anywhere the labrador's jaws can reach/ in the pocket of something that goes into the laundry bin and subsequently the washing machine...

- ha! i found it. you did throw it out with the bags.

- WHO PUTS THEIR WALLET IN A SHOPPING BAG?

- this is why you shouldn't be so obsessed with tidying.

- (...!...).

how many women should it take to change a bike tyre?

2010-04-06T18:31:00.000-07:00

in an effort to be a little more self-sufficient than wailing: "it hurts/i'm not strong enough/oh my god, look how much grease i am now covered in?" i signed up for a women's bike maintenance clinic.

it turns out that it really is easier to get someone else who fits the gender role of 'person on white horse/frame, in a suit of armour/spandex' to do anything pertaining to calipers, cranks and carbon fibre.

like most academics with advanced degrees, i already know how to change a tube, it's just that i'm not actually very good at it- and by "good", i mean efficient (by which i mean "fast"). and by that, i mean after about 45 minutes i emerge coated in a sheen of black grease, entering the first phase of carpal tunnel syndrome, clutching an underinflated tyre.

really, i was hoping to learn a short cut, but apparently, like everything else in cardiovascular life, to get better means doing it more- fortunately, this will not be a problem i run or ride into. and so the evening proceeded, interspersed with many four letter words, and the constant refrain "this is so much easier to do on a mountain bike".

perhaps the best, and most defining part of having a group of women gathering together in order to learn and then practice things is that anything applied- or physically difficult- means unconditional, judgement-free and most importantly "group" effort.

followed by an endless supply of hors d'oeuvres and wine.

when you just know that you've found "the one"

2010-04-04T05:53:00.001-07:00

too; tall, short, loud, understated, formal, attention seeking. they will only bring you; pain, a depleted bank account, blisters...

it's true what that collective of experts say.

even my mum liked them.

bummer.

california; where ambition goes to die

2010-03-31T14:43:00.001-07:00

come here and be famous.

wear bikinis every day and schmooze with beautiful people that surf.

immerse yourself in a caffeine-free religion, sponsored by walt disney.

it's a place where you can be a builder, fireman, indian or amateur shadow puppet.

meet strangers from the internet (who also like to write, blog and tweet).

california; where even deadly wild life is made to look cute.

lab sauvignon

2010-03-30T18:28:00.001-07:00

on day two of torrential downpour doggie lockdown, while trying to exercise one's hyperactive pooch by doing stair repeats with a laser pointer, it is prudent not to hold a glass of wine in the other hand.

should have got the chocolate lab.

the hardest thing(s) about running 26.2 miles

2010-03-24T17:19:00.000-07:00

there is a term, widely used in therapy circles, called "parallel process". the one more commonly used in everyone else's lives is "oh my god, seriously? me too!" i have already waxed lactic about the metaphor between the marathon and a more generic struggle for everyday self-actualization (whether it's learning to become a better listener to your partner, or learning to become better at operating the thermostat), but apparently my character had been atrophying over the recent winter training months.

excluding racers birthed at southern equatorial altitudes, the traffic in LA simulated virtual conditions for the first 4 miles of road rage (at least for the other 34,991 participants) on this particular course. clearly, days filled with sitting 65 miles below the speed limit in the requisite bmw/lexus/mercedes creates significant levels of unsuppressed agitation when commuting for one's venti soy decaf botox. this became more apparent, when the start was delayed by 27 minutes because shuttle buses were still stuck on the freeway to dodger stadium. subsequently chris o'donnell, shia lebouef, that one navy doctor from the bachelor a few seasons ago, and several thousand other less attractive people in shorts began walking, shoving, and snarling at each other for a PR.

in more of an effort than "not being last" or "just finishing before someone wearing cotton shorts and tube socks" i decided it was time to focus on attaining a loftier goal by beating a more serious competitor; oprah winfrey. * and assembled myself (with approximately 27 other 10 minute queen bees and wannabes) behind the 4:30 balloon toting pied piper of the clif bar pace team. it was all going so well- and fast- through west hollywood, beverly hills and rodeo drive.

my half marathon time was great. unfortunately, the course expectation was to run and repeat until i crossed the beeping mat in santa monica to become swaddled in a space blanket. i'm not sure what happened during the next 5 miles, other than noticing the balloons moving further away, coupled with an awareness that all of the people who were tracking my bib number at every bleeping mat saw this actuality too. finally, passing under mile marker 19, i did something that is exceptionally irritating in others; i pulled out my cell phone.

- i'm-so-sorry-i'm-not-going-to-make-my-time-i-feel-so-awful-and-everyone-is-watching-me-and-i-came-all-this-way-and-i-did-all-those-runs-in-the-freezing-cold-and-i've-been-up-since-3:30-this-morning-and-now-i'm-letting-everyone-down-and-i-don't-want-people-to-be-disappointed-in-me.....

- are you crying?

- yes.

- you are doing this because you want to. i hate to tell you, but unless nike is going to be after you for sponsorship in the next year, i really don't think you have anything to be too worried about.

- but-i-want-you-to-be-proud-of-me.

- i'm proud of you every day.

the remaining four miles were a series of excruciating bullet points; 22 i saw a friend, briefly whimpered in her direction, and we parted ways; 23 there was a "we heard you fart" sign, proving that no matter how shite you feel, farts are always funny; 24 and 25 had plenty of spectators calling out "looking good, disa!", "you're almost there, disa, stay strong!" ** reinforcing why, unless i do my next marathon in scandinavia, registering under "hjordys" is simply not as easy to pronounce, and therefore gratifying- to them, or me.

the final stage of grief comes with acceptance, where i now realize that short of michael flately lining up at the start, and performing an abbreviated version of riverdance on my feet, i am obviously not meant to develop black toenails. the same cannot be said for some pretty raunchy looking heart rate monitor/waist band/overstuffed back pocket chafe.

* who reportedly ran a 4:30 at the marine corps marathon way back in one of her skinny stages.
** a sales 'technique' that is utterly annoying when i call an 800 number to check on account information.

an in-flight manicure

2010-03-23T18:01:00.000-07:00

forget the dry, recycled cabin air wreaking havoc on your skin; turbulence is the silent killer-- of cuticles. it creeps up suddenly, like jaws, taking you down a helpless hundred feet.

clearly i need medicating, or mittens.

butter wouldn't melt...

2010-03-12T20:00:00.001-08:00

should harvesting a new life ever become something for my uterus to while away the time with, then any finished product would be better off coming out, and remain looking like, one of the residents of fraggle rock. clearly anything cute and fuzzy wuzzy stands absolutely no chance of not being raised under the tenets of a 'getting away with murder' school of parenting.

it would appear that axel is the neighborhood's very own count of monte cristo. apparently the little fellow has been working on a fence demolition project, between taking naps and chasing the other dog around the back garden. this weekend a phone call came from the after hours answering service. typically these are of the "my tooth hurts, it's been that way for three weeks, but now it really hurts" to "i was flossing and got a really bad smell and taste in my mouth- like dog shit" variety. this most recent 'emergency' fell into the "your dog is on the neighbour's porch" category.

axel has a thing for the crazy cat lady, more so, because she has a thing for cats; all of them. this is evidenced by a 24 hour stray kittie kibble buffet on her back deck, which just happens to be diagonally opposite a couple of loose, corner fence posts and a ravenous labrador.

even if you say you aren't that kind of girl; you are

2010-03-10T17:06:00.000-08:00

- i'm going to run to the office supply place, do you need anything?

...

- some wine?

- i don't think they sell that in the paperclip aisle.

[sigh]

- maybe cheesecake then? or ice-cream?

20 minutes later.

- I'm making the turn where i can either go home or stop and get ice-cream/wine/cheescake, do you want me to stop?

- .....i don't know....

- make the decision!

- ok. no! i don't need it, i don't want to get fat.

5 minutes later, walking through the door.

- did you get...anything....?

- no. you said you didn't want anything.

- i didn't MEAN it!

- well. i'm going to return these movies. are you sure you don't want something?

- ...i don't know..?

15 minutes later

- i'm at the supermarket, do you want anything?

- no. well, yes. but no. i don't NEED anything.

- and you're not going to ask me why i don't have it when i get home?

- well...yes. i just don't want to get fat. i don't need it.

- ok, then.

- siiiiiiiiigh.

- so you want me to get you something?

- no. i want you to make the decision, so i don't have to and then i can just blame you.

- SIGH.

- so... are you going to get something?

- no. not unless you say the words and tell me what you want.

- well...why don't you just get a treat for the dogs instead...

- ok.

- sigh.

[5 minutes later, a photo text of the frozen dessert aisle arrives]

- you are such a jerk!

- i'm getting ready to leave...last chance.

- no!

10 minutes later, walking through the door.

- did you get me anything?

...

- YES!!!!!!

saying your vows

2010-03-02T18:28:00.000-08:00

repeat after me:

[vigorously elbowing]

"stop snoring!"

"stop elbowing me!"

"well, stop snoring. i can't sleep"

"now i'm not sleeping!"

"but you were!"

"just go to sleep!"

"i can't sleep if you're snoring!"

"if you're sleeping you wont hear me snore!"

"well, just roll over onto your side. when you lay on your back you tend to snore more"

"stop talking, i'm trying to sleep"

"well, stop snoring, i'm trying to get to sleep"

[rolls over]

"now i can't go to sleep...do you think you could turn your alarm clock to face the other way, the light from the numbers is keeping me awake?"

"just close your eyes, then it will be dark"

"it's not the same, i can still see the light and it's keeping me awake"

[mutual sighs]

repeat nightly.

not your average tea party

2010-02-13T16:03:00.001-08:00

jfk airport, downtown la jolla, the midway at the kentucky state fair, and any street corner in gatlinburg, tennessee are guaranteed to provide more people watching opportunities than a wal-mart in any one of 'the lower 48', at 9 o'clock on a saturday night.

the yankee dental conference in boston has now made it into the top ten, displacing the american art therapy association's annual artsy fartsy-fest of hand crafted ostrich egg earings, swoopy skirts, navajo scarves, open toed leather sandals and freud. my former, orally fixated, chalk pastel wielding colleagues cannot hold a burnt umber crayon to a convention centre packed with dental experts and their assorted paraprofessionals.

sir richard attenborough would have 6 weeks worth of BBC programming just focused on identifying the various species roaming the flourescent lit savannah. the "doctor" is quickly spotted in both manifestations; "designer-suit-and-tie" or "middle-aged-pot-belly-and-leather-jacket". the "hygienist" and "assistant" are unable to camouflage themselves due to a distinctive coach purse tail feather. administrative professionals, like the doctors, fall into two subtypes, one is actually not too dissimilar to the "hygienist" (subtract a decade and a high school diploma) versus the "middle aged matriarch in a muu-muu". thankfully, colour coded ID badges remove the guess work on anything too ambiguous. the remaining space is heavily populated with sales people sporting both "anne" and "calvin", hawking their blinged out forceps (extracting a wisdom tooth could never be so 'studio 51'), x-ray equipment and cabinetry systems more costly than bmw's latest leather lined offering. the sounds of the temperature controlled market are replete, not with "cheap rolex, best price, nice quality", but pleas to "never let a patient leave your chair without a hot towel" (note: they smell exactly like the ones handed out on planes right around the time airlines started to do away with peanuts).

the plaque and periodontally obsessed are also able to choose from purple impression trays versus a more whimsical lime green, dental chairs that can do reflexology during a root canal, and gloves that meet both the universal precaution standard and accessorize with this season's scrub colours. and should choices be so overwhelming as to send vendees into a weakened state, trolleys of free doughnuts are wheeled by every three minutes in order to facilitate the decision making process. in fact, conference attendees typically sport more freebie bags than the guy sleeping under the overpass near balboa park.

fortunately there are extracurricular distractions provided for those (spouses) not terribly interested in third molars and gingivitis; all day tours of neiman-marcus, tai chi, and booths brimming with jewelry, purses, pashminas and fur coats- presumably to co-ordinate with marital gold card.

it is better to have raced and lost, than to have never raced at all

2010-02-09T16:39:00.000-08:00

"i have a throat that's scratchy, a nose that's runny, and my brother and his wife are in town visiting from england, and we all ate very rich food and drank copious amounts of wine last night".

"i've done something to my L4 and L5".

"i left my running shoes at home, but found a pair to borrow that are half a size too small for me."

february in maine, 10 miles of rolling hills, the wind chill of a cape elizabeth coast line; it is easy to gripe and make excuses, albeit mine were a little more whiney (refer to first set of quotation marks), but rather just get on and do it, than talk about doing it, not do it, and then not have anything to do a little race report on.

(it sucked).

sommeliers; the weight loss coaches of tomorrow?

2010-01-22T15:59:00.001-08:00

with the advent of the all-meat, no-protein, low-carb, hi-glycemic index, point counting, weight watching, special-k-once-a-day-as-part-of-a-low-calorie-diet, milkshake chugging, 3 square bowls of cabbage soup, plans to a better body, i'm just curious as to why the more obvious "less calories in than the ones expended" is not making the NY times bestseller list.

seriously.

my solution is that the coca cola company schedule a pow-wow with some so-cal, or so-african vineyards (maybe extend an invite to sir richard branson) and get cracking on a sexy little campaign for "diet merlot", and "shiraz lite".

throw in a few electrolytes and hitting the treadmill could never be more fun.

freshly squeezed butt juice

2010-01-21T16:04:00.000-08:00

anal seepage can prove be something of a social obstacle, however, humans are in general, successfully able to mask these sorts of medically related personal hygiene issues with a little dab of preparation H and a good pair of leakproof, absorbent pants.*

unlike our furry, four legged brethren, when things are a bit impacted, there is no sphincter hanging out to dry, nor are there rugs, bedding and other upholstery to leave skid tracks on when scratching "that" itch. a common red flag- or brown smear- is catching your pet doing the "butt scoot" across the floor/your lap/the duvet cover. treatment options include a $30 visit to your veterinary paraprofessional (or grooming service) to have the anal glands expressed. a more cost effective solution is to perform a quick browse on your preferred internet search engine, which yields a surprising array of narrative and youtube instructionals, in order to SIY (squeeze it yourself).

*trans; panties. (noun). american.

cross country skiing is the gateway drug to downhill

2010-01-10T17:19:00.001-08:00

i have been told that all dedicated runners cross country ski during the winter- when they're not out at 6am, clocking 19 miles, in a blizzard, on one leg, backwards- and this became very apparent at the trail head parking area, where a gaggle of subarus were all sporting the 26.2 bumper sticker.

for those sun bunnies, not in the know, cross country skiing is further broken down into "skating" and "classic". the latter being a parallel front-back-front motion that you will see the 'cardio equipment infomercial guy who wears leopard print hot pants', demonstrating (and looking far too perky for someone with an all over groin chafe). by contrast, "skating" looks an awful lot like the stuff of rollerdromes, just with two enormous planks of wood strapped to the feet. fortunately there are poles- with funny bits of plastic on the end- to help with the inevitable balance/forward propulsion and/or provide one more thing to co-ordinate and become entangled with.

the human condition dictates that we find something familiar in the non-familiar so as to make that pesky, awkward newness not feel quite so uncomfortable. for example, dubai now looks an awful lot like vegas (sans celine dion in something encrusted and silky), and boston is london substituting starbucks for pret a manger every 20 metres. therefore, cross country skiing is to winter, as mountain biking is to all that is great and wonderful in the other three, "fun" (dry, warm, snow-free...) seasons. there's pretty trail to look at, and plenty of social stops with fellow xc-ers so as to keep profuse sweating on a purely intermittent basis. perhaps xc skiing could take a few pages out of mountain biking's book; helmets would be a good place to start, and maybe "knobby skis". i am confident that had i had this kind of equipment there would not have been a large right butt cheek impression left at the bottom of the hill, requiring groomers to come out and make the trail safe for others.

all of this means that i must be ready for a snowboard.

dehydration during exercise can actually increase performance

2010-01-01T10:34:00.000-08:00

clearly, there is some egghead over at NASA who needs to get cracking on the prototype for a pair of athletic incontinence underpants. nike, patagonia, under armour et al. are all ripping holes in our wallets so that we can be suitably kitted out to perform various x-treme and/or athletic pursuits in matching and wicking caps/shirts/shorts/socks.

for a mere $29.99 (plus tax and shipping), skymall will deliver a fruit dehyrdrator to your front door. it is therefore, not inconceivable that many from the swim-bike-run community would be happy to part with their cash, so that they can have moisture wicked away from all the wet and dank creases, while engaging in several hours of uninterrupted activity. savings would be more than made up for in a PR, and none of that pesky pre-race anxiety at the port-a-loos. athletes could drink that third cup of coffee and just head straight out the door, assured in the knowledge that they will not have to look for a dodgy public toilet, or a large copse of trees on sunday's long training day. by the time the swim/bike/run is complete, all that will be left to empty out of your shorts is a hard, dry pebble. 100% chafe-free.

there are definitely more than 12 days to christmas

2009-12-30T15:29:00.001-08:00

in no particular order, except the gregorian one:

one nice idea (to invite far flung aunt/uncle/mother/sister/3 nieces, for a lampoon christmas vacation).

two mildy traumatized pooches (from either being picked up, or fiercely patted on the head by an overzealous toddler).

three bottles of wine/beer/2% milk consumed daily (by each age group, respectively).

four o'clock in the morning wake-up calls (related to the senior family members rising to brew coffee, or the junior ones to make a general "what's on disney channel?" ruckus).

FIVE christmas presents to RE-GIFT (what social occasion calls for a naughty nun and/or eve costume, paired with an obama baseball cap?).

six lobster exoskeletons discarded (per both "we have visitors in town, let's have lobster for xmas eve and new year's eve, eve, plus i can't be bothered to cook again" dinner sittings).

seven trips to the airport (to include multiples to collect wayward family members caught up in terrorist related delays).

eight incomplete hours of solid sleep (by everyone except the dogs and toddlers, who were at least able to nap at the restaurant table during lunch).

nine two way conversations (going on simulataneously, that no one was actually listening to, of which aunt margaret admitted "i just made that up" to at least three).

ten hours before departure, that one nervous family member insisted upon being dropped off at the airport (to be sure she made the flight).

eleven incidents related to improper or negligent use of a cell phone (infractions include; calling, leaving a message, and then immediately switching off the phone; leaving said phone switched off and in the suitcase at home when going to the airport to collect the uncle/brother arriving from florida, who does actually have a cell and knows how to use it; travelling without a phone during 'terrorist and winter weather' season; not setting up a voicemail, so that messages cannot be left/missed calls cannot be noted when the phone is eventually switched on again some time after the pilot has landed and said it is ok to do so).

twelve frostbitten phalanges (from agreeing to snowshoe in 15 degree weather, never mind about the wind chill, we will do an "activity", damnit).

running naked

2009-12-14T14:54:00.001-08:00

the temperature has now dipped to some number that is a close enough approximation of my shoe size. as a breed originally designed to jump and retrieve off the frigid waters of canada, axel certainly does not require merino socks, fleece "outerwear", or a baselayer in order to head out for a run.

it is time for fleet feet to carry a line of 'technical labrador wear'.

super sized shopping

2009-12-09T17:36:00.000-08:00

"members only" wholesale shopping establishments have long served as the retail vatican for countless 2.4 suburban minivan driving middle americans.

(i am now a 2.0 (dog) card carrying member).

this approach to re-stocking the pantry is no different than ordering 8 sliders (these would be normal sized hamburgers in the 'british system') fries, steak, shake and diet coke combo because it costs less than a newspaper; what customer is not rendered powerless when confronted with excessive savings on excess.

45lbs of bacon rashers? 24 bottles of listerene? forget that you have the storage space of a doll's house, the latest design principles purport an industrial looking "warehouse" thematic, anyway.

and realistically, the 93 count carton of loo roll will get burned through at a pace equal to the ingestion of a box of fibre 1 that meets the standard requirement to fit into an overhead bin.

a winter word association

2009-12-06T19:15:00.000-08:00

parking bans that go on for 3 days and snow plows that don't appear for 4, legs that go unshaved for weeks at a time, overpriced raspberries at the supermarket (it's not like they're pine nuts for pete's sake), flipflops relegated to the back of the wardrobe, a salt crust bonded to every orifice of the car, muddy footprints in the car, short runs (that feel like long ones) on the treadmill, the gym (dressing to both go to it, and to work out in it) masses of footprints/boots/coats/hats/gloves/running shoes (sadly, no flip flops)/errant leaves loitering inside the entryway, pale skin-the kind that showcases your circulatory system, no more freckles- or oreo frosties, hat hair, pyjamas at 5:08pm, paying attention to the weather forecast, wipers frozen to the windscreen, fingers frozen to the ice scraper, "visibility" clothing for afternoon runs, slippy roads and sloppy motorists, unpainted toenails, de-icing the plane, cancellations, airport delays, unsafe conditions, travel advisories, vitamin d deficiency, a frozen margarita deficiency, "layering" to take the rubbish out, black ice and broken hips.

snowshoes.

share the trail

2009-11-15T18:50:00.000-08:00

the only thing separating maine from kentucky are rebel flags, phonetic stress put on the letter "r", and about 3 feet of snow.

rednecks are heavily camouflaged up here; subarus, ski poles and a kilo's worth of expensive puffy jackets make them hard to spot, especially as the breed native to the northeast never actually develops a mullet.

in the southeast, sharing single track with equestrians is tedious and riddled with rather large and fibrous turds, but far worse than ticks, rattlers and mountain lions- even bubba on an ATV- are the fact that maine's trails are on 'guns and ammo lock down' august through november, showcasing a different weapon of the month. november is the crossbow.

in maine, a home owner must post signs on their property stating that they have had endless meetings with the bank, some lawyers and a plethora of annoying real estate people for the privilege of having hundreds of thousands of dollars withdrawn from their checking accounts every year. should the happily mortgaged choose not to nail garish plastic message boards at the perimeter of their property, then it is within the jurisdiction of any redneck worth his blood alcohol level to take a fire arm onto said property and shoot at will in the direction of anything deemed worthy of sharing that evening's dinner plate with some mashed potatoes and A1 sauce.

for women only

2009-11-08T18:36:00.000-08:00

in an effort to squeeze one more event out of 2009, i found myself at the women's half marathon in "almost new hampshire" last weekend. this is not generally recommended as part of a post-marathon recovery plan, but a friend was running her first and needed the moral support, and i needed to make sure i wouldn't require full-on body support hose now that the two biggest eating months of the calendar year have arrived.

fashion no-no's abounded- as they tend to at foot races- shortly after the energy bean stop was "hot pink tights" and "brown shorts with sweaty crotch that looked like she'd wet herself". of course the first water station saw a mother of three, a former power lifter and body builder (yes, the ones in those tiny bikinis) and myself getting down to the sport's bras in order to trade clothes for an ensemble that allowed for a little more armpit ventilation and temperature control.

while it is easy to complain (no gatorade until mile 11, and a 'serve your own water' station around mile 5) stunning views of the atlantic, old churches, quaint lobster shacks and other new england paraphernalia brought me to my knees long before fatigue was able to.

hansel and gretel should have just taken a slash in the woods

2009-11-01T17:35:00.000-08:00

7 dogs, 5 humans, all in varying degree of shapes, size and breed, and lots of wide open trail provided a backdrop and supporting cast for 'axel's big adventure'. fortunately there was a veteran kennel owner, ER doc, accountant, dentist and mental health worker to manage the increased potential for canine carnage. as it happens, none of our four legged chums needed to consolidate their petco account, get a transfusion or root canal, let alone discuss their beef about being locked in a cage as a 'training tool'.

and so the first 30 minutes passed with much noses down/bums in the air as axel enjoyed the freedom to pounce and mount assorted poodles, sans leash. which begat 'sans big yellow dog'. which begat panicked humans, really only two; the ones responsible for refilling his waterbowl. trails past, future and non-existent were canvassed to no avail and much frustration (again, only two hand wringing humans). however, it would appear that a steady diet of flourescent lightbulbs, batteries and fireplace logs does the brain good, because basking his golden fur in the driveway waiting, was our little pee sniffer. it turns out that chugging a bowl of water before heading for a long hike is significantly cheaper, and more reliable, than a garmin.

as his first birthday approaches, axel also commemorated the excursion with an inaugural coming of age "leg lift on a bush".

i love a man in uniform

2009-10-26T18:27:00.000-07:00

nothing brings americans out in droves like a 2 for 1 deal at subway, or desert fatigues and flags. the 34th US marine corps marathon attracted 30,000 endorphin seekers and equal amounts of their screaming, gesticulating and cowbell ringing nearest and dearest. and while many distance foot races rely on relatively d-list mile marker "entertainment", there was very little need for the usual cadre of cartwheeling elvi or jitterbugging jugglers on this very historic, scenic and heavily testosterone lined course.

this particular 26.2 miler provided a complete multi-sensory experience. the visual being fairly obvious, was nicely accented by an auditory "hoo-ra!" (it's a marine thing, you wouldn't understand), mocha clif shots (the sports bean monogamy is finally broken), and of course the smell of rancid armpits, port-a-loos (or some unfortunate who didn't quite make it in time), mixed with the suffocating pong of tiger balm.

perhaps more motivating than seeing "grandma" and "cotton shorts with walrus butt", pass me at mile 23, were the numerous soldiers in wheelchairs/pushing wheelchairs/running on prosthetics. it really is beyond humbling to run up on a young woman with a picture of her fallen brother, and hero, on the back of her singlet.

disappointingly, the 18 minutes shaved off from my last marathon time was in direct disproportion to sustaining any black toenails at this one. and the only chafing issues came as a result of some armpit stubble that was left one day too long.

long runs are my laxative

2009-10-21T19:07:00.000-07:00

the low mileage training week preceding "marathon sunday" is typically a source of extreme frustration for a heretofore regular morning tryst with the toilet bowl.

sadly, not even coffee can combat "tapering".

staying classy in the 04240

2009-10-19T18:54:00.000-07:00

small(er) town living means being on a first name basis with your mail carrier, facebook friending- and donating farm animals to- the postmaster at the down town building, and being given your very own nickname ("fred") by the postal workers in the back sorting office. it also means contributing to the max. capacity for fire safety statutes at 'maine's very first gay bar's last night in business'.

preconceived notions that a new england drag show is just an endless stream of leggy blonde lovelies twirling ski poles on their adam's apple, or at the very least a puffy jacket striptease down to the long, silk undies, are about as false as their fleece lined implants.

these are: thepeopleofwalmart.com(afterhours).

tucked or untucked?

2009-10-13T17:06:00.000-07:00

these boots were made for walking; the dog; to pick up piles of steaming, snow dusted poo.

the temperature has recently changed from 'mostly flip flops with a slight chance of a cute closed toe' to 'heavy periods of gloves and hat' just to pry myself out of bed.

"fall" is indeed here, something that brings americans to such a state of seasonal rapture that they forget two weeks of pumpkins and red leaves, inevitably gives way to months of frozen petrol caps and blue fingers. however, the opportunity to wear boots more than makes up for it. so i'm told.

thanks to people magazine, i know to wear fur lined boots with a pair of carpenter shorts, and PVC thigh highs with even less. however, the winter wardrobe poses more of an opportunity to get my own, never-been-worn, boots in a bind. there are just far too many variables to contend with when trying to co-ordinate colour, texture, height and the 'what to do with the trouser leg' dilemma.

next on the agenda is a trip to the l.l. bean outlet- "bean's" to locals- for a pair of snow shoes.

la grande pomme

2009-10-06T17:39:00.001-07:00

a recent symposium on leadership proved to educate, validate and raise my own fallow unibrow. i do not heart NYC. crowds, traffic, and terrorist targets are for the less abstract complaining xenophobes, and since most NYC-ers can barely deign to acknowledge your presence, let alone open their mouths to inform you to get the hell out of their foxtrotting way, the accent issue, isn't even worthy of one.

seriously, who has that much black in their wardrobe? the urban-scape is replete with osteoperetic candidates teetering across chelsea in search of a designer hearse to go with their patent jimmy choos. the only white disruption to the silhouette being that of the omnipresent ipod cords. panty lines are optional.

it's not about the journey

2009-10-04T14:13:00.000-07:00

patrick dempsey is maine's own homeboy and therefore the primary reason i was unable to listen to my limp excuses sunday morning when faced with the prospect of 50 miles; dans le saddle; in a torrential downpour; over "puke hill". that, and an enormous registration fee long since withdrawn from the checking account. fortunately, positive reinforcement abounded at 7:15am, when dave zabriskie and i made 'protracted-eye-contact-but-not-in-a-creepy-stalking-kind-of-way (not to me anyway)' as he disembarked the stage with his peloton of "muscle". george hincapie was also kind enough to bend over for a paparazzi money shot.

and so 3,500 fairly unco-ordinated spandex/cotton blend clad people and their bicycles (and possibly 23 kickstands), avoided a concrete and carbon snarl between 8:15 and 8:19 as we all set off from the corral into the drizzly mists so as to enjoy some unripe "foliage", gatorade and gummi bears. lots of gummi bears. at miles 17, 28, and 39-ish. the mantra for the day was "soggy saddle sore is better than turbulence or sharing stirrups and a paper sheet with bill o'reilly". and aside from the obvious pain, discomfort and millilitres of mucous absorbed into the thumb of my right bike glove, there were some entertaining moments to briefly interrupt the whining. maybe only two; the "wheel housewives of cumberland county" rode by in their team kits, and the dulcet caterwauling of my one eared friend, cheering and photographing this "faster than shutter speed" grumpy, calloused crotch 200 metres from the finish line.

things started to perk up when i saw that the "apres feed" included baked lobster, globs of salty butter and a small serving of McDessert.

i like to pick things

2009-09-27T17:58:00.000-07:00

while there is nothing more satisfying than working the corners off a scab, or peeling away a big chunk of cuticle, i will draw the line at eating these assorted moulting parts of my anatomy. and so in order to sublimate that impulse into something less destructive, trichotillomaniacs can be found working diligently in all areas of agriculture.

obviously the question of what is 'one who doesn't deviate too much from the bog standard 9 recipes in the kitchen' to do with all this fresh fruit?

she heads straight for the freshly made doughnut and cider hut to enjoy what others have done with all that fresh fruit.

hot glue gun wedding

2009-09-20T15:42:00.000-07:00

what do you get when you cross an art therapist with a public proclamation of love and committment?

i am fully aware of the stereotype, having been to the conferences and seen the whirling dervish day-wear accessorized with bottle cap/pipe cleaner/bread bag tie/egg shell earings. however, my nuptial imprinting was finalized in 1981. instead of following mother greylag goose to the pond, i forever thought that lady di, and therefore enough tulle to quote bible verses from the back of a small aircraft, was my destiny.

weddings surpass the (other) fat man in the beard for tchotchkes (pavarotti tried to get in on the english footballer bandwagon), more abhorrent than the 'mary-in-a-bathtub' lawn decor many people in southern indiana feel improves their 'curb appeal'. and yet a quick google of the various, and ultimately homogenous, media portals, it becomes blisteringly apparent that any bride-to-be can choose from 365 flavours of monogrammed plastic, stamped with wing-ed hearts, smooching doves, and angels with oversized eyeballs sporting a "made in china" logo a la victoria's secret branded on their bums. mickey mouse's silhouette may be the only "TM." to rival "happily ever after" paraphernalia.

and so, there will be no water colour mandalas at each place setting, affirmation dolls wrapped around the napkins, or an interactive 'love mural' for guests to contribute a found object as a way to 'commemorate the day as a collective'.

attendees might be asked to gestalt the cake, though.

i am an ambulance chaser

2009-09-16T18:10:00.000-07:00

when exchanging "what's your heart rate?" information, i am consistently met with a non verbal response that would equate the one should i tell people that i am moving to a trailer park in calcutta or have been diagnosed as highly allergic to chocolate.

apparently my cardiovascular system is the equivalent of a hypomanic toddler on red bull. or a 9 month old labrador on toilet paper.

despite an entrenched running dysmorphia, it appears that my gait is that of a torqueing slinky- and this is without the added energy expended faffing about with an ipod to skip ahead to the buggles on repeat. the thing is, i have seen "those" people at the park. the ones who run like michael flately's riverdance (without the eyeliner and cod piece), or those who look like they're compulsively high fiving a punching bag. my perception is that i shuffle, keeping feet close to the ground and hands well below the navel (every 'action sports international' photo thus far has captured me in a stance that looks an awful lot like i'm just nipping out to drop an envelope in the mail box around the corner).

apparently not.

i have now been instructed to do the equivalent of putting braces on my form. "whatever it takes to maintain your heart rate at 30-40 beats less than what it is now". yes, i believe that's called "walking", and not even a "middle aged around the neighborhood with hand weights and cotton sweat pants and white skechers" pace. algae could hussle faster than me at 140 bpm. just sitting and staring at my heart rate monitor can vary between 75-90. try and tie a shoelace and we're pushing three digits.

oh yes i can

2009-09-15T17:49:00.001-07:00

it is time for an intervention. i signed up for a 12 mile trail race, "the bradbury bruiser", so-called because of ankle twisting rock gardens in the last two miles of the course.

as most impulsive actions tend to be, this was a totally random "10:30 at night, i wonder what the new PR racing website aka tuesday night with the bates track crackheads looks like" ...and then there was a link...which i clicked....and then clicked "register now", it was only $20, i wasn't even sure that guaranteed a t-shirt (it did).

oops.

for the record: the t-shirt was so cool, i got one in my size, instead of sending it to my dad-- who is currently sporting assorted XL cotton of all the timing chip events i have participated in thus far.

fact: 12 trail miles do not burn as many calories as road miles, however they did score some parentheses-like sports bra chafing into my cleavage. fact: squidgy mud pits, poison ivy and a sweaty back (less than a foot in front), facilitates way more sharing than the confessional- certainly more than any road race i've ever attended. fact: being in your 40's and birthing a couple of children does not mean you are relegated to the "middle aged/too busy to get outdoors/puffy" shelf.

"do you want to sign up for 14 weeks of boot camp?"

-why not?

"the LA marathon would be fun to do- what do you think?"

-ok

"6 mile run (before you go to boot camp)?"

- sure, and i'll go an extra 3 with you for an even 9, just because you said you were feeling good.

"want to get up at 7am and run 14 miles with me on saturday (before you do the trail race on sunday)?"

fortunately, this zealour for "yes" had not yet developed during the 'sex, drugs and acid washed denim with puffy flourescent pink paint' years of adolescence.

there is a 12 hour mountain bike race at the same place this weekend. good thing i committed to something else already.

a labour day survival guide for visitors

2009-09-13T17:02:00.000-07:00

labour day in the united states means snatching up those half price slip 'n slides at target for next year's 'two sunny days in june', followed by a full body crippling 'beef 'n beer' indigestion.

it also mean supporting the travel and tourism industry, by way of contributing to amtrak's coffers and the 'tv sitcom made famous bar' in beantown.

it means saving the environment, by driving a gas guzzler two hours to "almost canada", in order to conserve electricity by burning bits of leftover crown molding to liquify and blacken marshmallows that then fall into the embers of an egg and dart.

it means being able to experience a little discomfort (willingly) in order to exploit the situation.

and class 5 whitewater.

obviously.

registering for guests

2009-08-31T15:47:00.000-07:00

making the cut to "the guest list" for a wedding is probably not quite as harrowing for the cutt-er, as voting off the chunky sorority cutt-ee on 'the biggest loser'. however, it might be easier to choose who will be one of the lucky recipients of grilled chicken, pasta salad, and an open bar, if you had one of those wedding registry 'point and shoot' gift guns to aim at the address book.

things to consider:

"they invited me, we no longer hang, should i still invite them?" it sort of depends if they have an opportunity to find out that you are actually having a wedding-- between tending their facebook farms, sending karma, and testing general knowledge about british punk circa. february 9th through february 12th, 1987.

"i haven't seen them in years, this would be a nice excuse to catch up." of course then you are left with the burden ("you" are chronically co-dependent) of agonizing over who to sit your middle school teacher from saudi with during dinner-- because "you" are also unable to facilitate introductions while cutting cakes/dancing romantically to louis armstrong/draping hands across each other and the bridal bouquet for a nice, sepia toned close up.

"i'll invite them because i know they wont come, but at least they will feel included". like trying to parallel park a pt cruiser rent-a-car, your judgement is nearly always off.

"do i have to invite them just because we're related? it's been years since we dressed up and ran around pretending to be carebears". this is only typically an issue when the more senior- and matriarchal- members of the family are offering "suggestions".

"how can i cherry pick co-workers and groups of friends and get away without causing any weirdness?" the answer to this is infinitely more valuable than a pain-free remedy for ingrown toenails, and unfortunately just as improbable.

"which exes can we (both) get away with inviting?" generally the ones who are now happily married and have put on 20lbs of complacency. note: "yours" has to be less attractive than "mine".

"what about the person who has already assumed that they are being invited?" find out what their food issues are and email a copy of the menu; crusted, basted, drizzled, and flambeed in that particular ingredient.

i have also learned that picking a playlist for a wedding reception doesn't necessarily mean it should meet the same criteria as the one for "good on long runs".

on not being qualified

2009-08-30T17:51:00.000-07:00

whoever said that getting a dog before you have children is "good practice" was obviously a little more out of touch than my babcia when she asked if i was a lesbian because i was 24 and unwed.

after seven exceptionally long months that have traversed labrador toddlerhood through adolescence, i am starting to think parenting something that both talks and will eventually demand an ipod, over simpler requests for idle back scratches and peanut butter may result in a poorer return after the many years of co-payments to a behavioral family therapist.

in the midst of a rather animated "teaching moment" with young axel, i occasionally step outside of myself and hear the- my -interaction. and then i wonder what on earth the neighbours must think when they (surely) hear me during one of these multi-daily exchanges.

southern belles

2009-08-20T15:35:00.001-07:00

a hot rod show, baptist convention, orphan's picnic (where the primary focus is beer rather than waify street urchins), and a good ole southern style wedding- minus the fried chicken, ATV's, lower back tat's, and acid washed denim, was the latest reason for a foray into travel, turbulence, and truncated cuticles.

to those with inverted nostrils: the american midwest is more than just 2 hours, out of a cross country/coast to coast flight. they have molded plastic animals, decorated in whimsical, local styles on the street-- all of which are just begging to be adorned.

and enterprise car rental, specifically covering the southern states, should seriously consider offering: "add daisy dukes", in addition to the: "GPS/if you crash into a UPS truck insurance" options.

gettin' lucky in kentucky...

which is exactly what this adopted belle will be doing next june. y'all.

nipple pubes

2009-08-13T19:38:00.000-07:00

no, not men's. or 80 year old grannies. a less talked about phenomenon than the odd, 'lady chin hair', is the 25-35 year old "sex and the city" watching demographic-- who have a random, thick, black one orbiting their areolas'.

a relationship challenge: tell your man. he won't want to believe you, and will subsequently double over with that 'just got kicked in the balls' face.

note: tweezers are not just for eyebrows and splinters. why else do we keep a set in our purses/make up bag/nightstand/car/make sure a girlfriend is always carrying one? add this to your monthly "pink ribbon in the shower check up'.

an unfortunate series of events

2009-08-11T16:10:00.001-07:00

the transition to "really desperate expat housewife" is virtually complete; i filled a prescription for valium.

pre-boarding the first leg of a flight to san diego, i took my inaugural vitamin V. unfortunately, due to "weather" and associated connecting airport shut downs, a 5 hour delay saw a rather chill demeanour wasting away on runway two. by the time we took off, i was fully present, and therefore able to enjoy the stormy remnants at my usual arm rest gripping baseline. as a result, the guy in 34 C also got to enjoy some serious 'public displays of getting into his close personal space'.

because i had been able to bond with the russian airline representative over our respective 'unpronouncable to americans' last names, she had bumped me ahead of "standby guy" on the next west coast flight. unfortunately, the east coast flight landed as the other one was scheduled to board. fortunately, the gates were right next to each other (good odds for transfer of suitcase). unfortunately, the jet bridge for the arriving flight was broken and i was sitting in the last row. unfortunately, the departing gate now said 'pittsburgh'. fortunately, it was due to a gate change, and only three numbers down. unfortunately, there appeared to be no gate agents, passengers, or plane. fortunately, the incoming flight had also been delayed due to "weather". unfortunately, once i was safely ensconced in my 'last seat before the toilet', there was quite a bit of turbulence and all my next dosage did was to make me drowsy. i need a pill that stops turbulence. or perhaps get something a little further down the alphabet.

6 hours later than initially scheduled, we touched down in california. unfortunately, the suitcase had not accompanied me, as evidenced by the continental representative attempting to pronounce my last name over the P.A. unfortunately, i had packed my toothpaste, contact lenses, knickers and all those other essentials in the suitcase. fortunately, the front desk woman at the hotel gave me a 'welcome' bag. unfortunately, it did not have toothpaste or a brush, but it did contain samples of alleve, pepcid, and sachet of ky personal lubricant.

fact: the dilemma when faced with a row of airport toilets make goldilocks' inability to choose chair/porridge/bed utterly facile.

family reunion

2009-08-10T14:51:00.001-07:00

due to various large bodies of land and sea, and the american employer's rather paltry excuse for 'vacation time', the frequency with which my immediate family is able to congregate in the same space- that doesn't require logging into skype- shares approximately the same irregularity as that of a hot flashing female.

rather like a leap year, i didn't know we were having "one", until i saw my dad wheeling his suitcase through heathrow airport towards me. the gestalt was complete, after negotiating the british road system (which obviously borrows it's ruler from the people who established the dimensions of swimming pool lanes), to find mum standing behind the back bedroom door at my brother's house- and had apparently been there since returning from her 3 week trip to visit me, back when there was still some snow on the ground.

when i first moved to the states i was intrigued by the whole ritual of "the family reunion", which appeared to be more of a retreat that revolved around BBQ and green bean casserole, giving people an excuse to make personalized t-shirts commemorating the occasion. my clan likes to engage in the ritual of trimming excess back and ear hair.

like most grandchildren, i spent much of my time visiting the more senior members of the family, making up elaborate magic shows and running around the woods with cousins. this past trip, while we all got to reminisce about those very things, 'visiting as an adult' allowed me to go back further in history to world war II, where, as children, they were bundled out of bed one morning and put on a cattle train; first bound for siberia to cut trees, and then on to kazakhstan for more hard labour and a final separation from their families. the gypsy 'tradition' appears to have been passed down in much the same way as our noses and a tendency to over-cater breakfast.

of course the wonderful thing about the law of universality, and assembling people who share the same DNA, is that it serves to eliminate the: "i am the only freak" feeling. fortunately, we were all in agreement that crack sniffing is the pinnacle of wit and humour.

and finally, 'punting under the influence' with friends from the days when our respective spectacles were larger than our 16 year old asses.

hot, hard and fast

2009-08-01T10:34:00.000-07:00

"run 6.2 miles along the atlantic coastline from the beach to the lighthouse"-- with 4,984 other people, plus 5 kenyans.

on-line registration for the 'beach to beacon' sold out in 34 minutes. the winner finished in 28. there are way too many damn numbers to deal with in running.

~ minutes sweated and strained in the port-a-loo over a complete no-show of last night's pizza: 7

~ number of clouds in the sky (for a consistently miserable "summer" thus far): 2

~ humidity index (after never ending rain for the last 3 months): 5,307- more accurately, the sensation of being asphyxiated with a hot sponge.

~ number of hills (in the last mile): lost count due to delirium.

~ thoughtful spectators pointing their sprinklers onto the swanky 6.2 mile stretch of cape elizabeth road: countless (thank you all for cheers, music, and a distracting carnival atmosphere).

~ end result: a staggering (verb, not adverb) 57 minutes and 49 (every one counts) seconds. perhaps there is some benefit to training with those nut cases on tuesday nights. if nothing else, the fact that they got "elite passes" to the starting line so that i didn't have to faff about with the shuttle was totally worth it.

lobster, lighthouses, lactate thresholds, and a rather lacklustre attitude

2009-07-27T15:26:00.001-07:00

after spending 7 plus hours confined to a delta airlines economy class seat, a jet lag haze eclipsed the reality of how this would impact the integrity of my hip flexors for the (locally) ubiquitous 50 mile 'lobster ride and roll' a day later. scenic views, a caloric deficit, and white bread stuffed with sweet crustacean claws were my sparkly, shiny object.

a zen like state was finally achieved when peanut m&ms provided a blissful trance from the fugue that had settled in by mile 25.

i can obviously blame transatlantic travel for a less than stellar performance at the 'lobster'. and ever the planner, my crappy effort during the 'dempsey bike challenge' at the beginning of october will be attributed to an intensive marathon training schedule leading up to it. this will also go towards explaining an equally geriatric endeavour at the marine corps marathon (at the end of october), because i knackered out my legs on the very hill bike course 3 weeks prior.

'making excuses intervals' is the only area of cross training where i am currently exceeding expectations.

"get a grip!"

2009-07-25T16:45:00.000-07:00

was the terse instruction issued from 'my brother the pilot' in response to his sister's perseverative thoughts on airbus versus boeing disasters, shattering pelvises upon impacting the atlantic ocean, and how to break into a cockpit in order to administer CPR to an arresting crew member.

and so i did.

however, i don't know if the richter scale turbulence while transitioning from US to canadian airspace was quite as traumatic as the 45 minute connector's aisle side view of an ambulatory and verbal child, in possession of at least his incisors, latched to his mother's mammary. not a surprise then, to overhear that they were ultimately, seattle bound.

to keep the laws of crappy airline travel in perfect alignment, the return journey, while relatively turbulence (and therefore bruise) free, was equally trying. kennedy airport has obviously been laid out with the same design aplomb that you would expect from a 5 year old with a bucket of lego. and may also be the only employer that is currently over staffed, albeit with 28 year old soporific "teenagers" whose pace, and overall demeanour are clearly not congruent with even a low level customer service experience.

dealing with my baggage

2009-07-16T16:37:00.000-07:00

that whole fear of plummeting out of the sky aside- and really, what are the odds of another NTSB disaster, based on the last 2 months of cardiac arresting pilots, faulty sensors, crappy weather conditions, and a lackadaisical approach to aircraft maintenance- the ritual of "what the hell should i pack for a bipolar british summer?" serves as my pre-boarding turbulence.

matching colours, that complement assorted temperatures, by coupling layers and sleeve length to appropriate footwear, requires the kind of thinking necessary to pencil in 3 crosswords that bridge each other. this may explain why i usually wind up rotating the same two t-shirts and a token pair of jeans that were worn (but not since washed) on the '6 hours of recycled air, flight and sitting in manky departure terminal chairs', and also why 2 down and 9 across- "5 letter word; the name of a mouse 'tom' used to chase in the hanna barbera cartoon"- are the only squares with letters in them.

should tradition prevail, then any effort expended on selecting and folding will be for naught, because the delsey will undoubtedly become waylaid on a luggage carousel at jfk, long after my arrival at heathrow's very own version, several time zones away.

growing pains

2009-07-13T19:21:00.001-07:00

navigating 'the puppy years' feels an awful lot like graduate school; only 6 months in, and the prospect of another year and a half feels an insurmountable task. at 7 months, weighing in at approximately 15 bags of charcoal (or 3 days worth of turd collection), axel roams around the house like pac man; chomping on light bulbs, coat hangers and, to date, two cell phones. this is compounded by a tail that could be used in drive-thru car wash's-- strong enough to get three day old bird poo off the windscreen.

and while laundry duties are rumoured to multiply as children are added into the equation, i am finding that doggie mucous leaves enough reflective stripping on my clothing that i could easily lie down in the middle of a road and feel confident that the overnight fed ex truck would leave all of my internal organs intact.

i have also been under a misapprehension that my abandonment issues were more entrenched than fox news' credo that they represent "fair and balanced" coverage- snickering about podium diving tele-prompters is obviously super professional and journalistically unbiased. however, axel appears to be wholly unable to tolerate even a brief trip to the loo, without committing feng shui homicide all over the living room.

and the last remnants of "he's just a labrador puppy/hyperactive dead weight growing in his adult teeth" rose tinted schmutz are quickly dispelled when taking rielly for a walk; people come bounding over to pet her while she leaves a pee puddle at their feet, versus axel where, oncoming pedestrian traffic moves rapidly into the road, apparently preferring to take their chances with distracted housewives commandeering SUV's the size of a bouncy castle.

i look forward to axel's eventual- hopeful- maturation more than anticipating the 'apres asparagus pee'. and as he appears to be impervious to batteries, glass, chocolate, cellophane and a 3 lb bag of yukon gold, we discovered he is also (unfortunately) flame retardent.

sticks and stones

2009-07-10T14:01:00.000-07:00

"what's the worst thing you could be called?"

[the sample group comprised of educators, social workers, and a photo journalist, all advancing into the third decade].

'kiddo'. found particularly patronizing when used by co-workers. perhaps it's the daddy issues, but i took no umbrage when "53 year old beer gut" used this term at the track while running "800's" (that means something that could potentially require AED equipment).

'honey', 'sweetie' and anything that can be located on the 'little debbie' shelf at the supermarket. again, any colleague that opts for this aggregate of saccharine nouns requires an immediate ostracism from chit chat about the most recent celebrity b-lister flashing her wax job upon exiting a limo. significant others- other people's significant others- should come thoughtfully equipped with sick bags for dispensing to those of us within earshot of their effuse exchange.

"i don't care about 'bitch' or 'C U Next Tuesday'." i suppose if it's coming from a peroxide blonde, sporting a ramen noodle perm, wielding one of jerry springer's chairs, then i doubt that it would be enough of a slur to stir me from a repeat episode of 'the real housewives of atlanta'.

'fat'.

and suddenly we are in the kind of tacit agreement that the US commander in chief's, circa. 1970, have wanted to happen on their watch, between israel and palestine.

i'm not wearing any underwear

2009-07-06T18:37:00.000-07:00

"well, i'm wearing my granny panties under my bike shorts" was the response from my left, as we resumed watching the backside of the guy in front of us, who's only 'visible lines' were of his chiseled sinews through the spandex.

i went commando for the first time tonight (this didn't work out so well for the integrity of my bunk bed mattress the last time i tried it) during our group road ride, which was probably the only faux pas not committed during the 20 mile excursion through cow pastures and taxidermists.

despite ocd more pervasive than the latest robert ludlum at the border's express in jfk's terminal 2, the donning of the undies is more about not wanting to expend time scraping and chipping the crusty bits out of my chamois- girl's shorts look like a scalextric race track on the inside, that's a lot of grooves for gunk to get stuck in.

and while mr 'visible sinew line' can get away with sponsorship text across his arse, those of us, who are more glutealy endowed, should just stick with plain matte black, maybe even a bin bag.

coming soon to an REI near you, a new line of women's cycling shorts with "ride my ass" stamped across the buttocks.

committed to underachieving *

2009-06-19T06:05:00.000-07:00

learning how to play bohemian rhapsody on the cello and singing the lyrics in mandarin seems rather a silly idea when you can just sit on the couch for 9 hours and read the complete works of bill bryson.

as such, i found myself pedaling with the 'bunco' group on wednesday night's road ride, quite comfortable in the diverse ecto/endo/meso demographic. not one to strive for excellence, it was reassurance enough to see an abundance of cotton athletic wear, bike helmets that belonged in "free styrofoam cooler with a 12 pack of bud light", in the beer cave at the local petrol station-- and even a kick stand or two.

not unlike my performance on tuesday night 'cardio crack at the track', i am more comfortable hanging back with my new buddy "kickstand", dodging potholes (road cellulite being more hazardous to the long term appearance of skin than a gallon of haagen dazs), and not overtaxing the pulmonary artery, it's associated ventricles, or the city to finance an ambulance plus crew.

predictably (in much the same way, that drawing and labeling the different types of triangles in lower level maths class finally had me gagging for sines and cosines the next group up), i started drifting ahead towards the next set of pedaling bottoms. this in itself presents a new learning moment as i appeared to miss the "i'm going to move to the left, so now you ride up front and shield me from the bugs/take a pull" cue.

i have officially upgraded from 'bunco' to 'canasta'.

* "sandbagger"** being the more technical term.

** given the presence of spandex, ergo "saddlebagger".

diner pour quatre

2009-06-18T16:00:00.000-07:00

"i invited the oral surgeon and his wife over for dinner next friday."

apparently you have confused my compulsive behaviour about keeping meat in the meat drawer, instead of thrown on top of the bag of arugala and a cheesecake, for someone who appliques apple pies and is fluent in ironing. and these are not the kind of people who come over for a "build your own pizza from this fine selection of ingredients i have procured and we'll just work our way through a kiddie pool of cheap wine" night.

"well, it's a good thing you are so well versed with the gas grill and it's various accessories".

except the good doctor doesn't eat red meat, and his missus is a vegetarian (obviously not an animal rights one, as evidenced by the floor length fur she wore out to dinner in march), and we do not own a "dining room table". *

unfortunately whole foods has yet to develop a line of ezee sundried shitake steaks nestled on an artisan bed of flambeed orzo infused with a rustic pine cone pesto. the default "order the steamed lobster and clams carry out for four" is not going to work as they are "mainers", and my own one trick foo-foo pony does not meet the previously referenced dietary criteria.

i can only hope that one of them has a '6 month old crack head labrador puppy' allergy.

* "dining room table" being the litmus of achieving 'now we have somewhere to put a large silk table runner and centre piece to really reinforce how little we will use this overpriced pile of kindling' adulthood.

something old, something new, and a lot of things made in china

2009-06-07T17:14:00.000-07:00

the next wave of weddings is beginning to ripple like fart water in a bath tub. now the 'second time arounds', and 'perpetually phobic of settling down' are finally compiling their own registries at target.

and so to detroit, for a formerly commitment averse's bridal baptism. or rather; a swedish-mexican-roman-catholic affair that was quite possibly longer than the first harry potter film. *

as with long haul flights, ceremonies that exceed the time it takes to read 'harry potter and the goblet of fire', should at least put the junior bridesmaids to work and have them pass out a few concessions. and considering you get two bags of pretzels flying from louisville to chicago, the volume and quantity of communion at these events needs to be reviewed.

in light of these supersized ceremonies, there is a largely untapped market to "rent a screaming infant". very few pew mates will ask to see evidence of a dirty nappy when your little poopsie is reaching the decibels only babies can achieve upon an aeroplane's initial descent from 30,000 feet. either that, or the muttering officiant in the pulpit needs to be replaced by the oxy-clean guy.

furthermore, guests have already spent more hours than airfare waiting for; a delayed 737/ $15 banana cucumber scone at the au bon pain in terminal 3/a cigarette scented pt cruiser at the alamo desk, and so killing time in a city that has embraced the dictum "bullets are the new body piercing", while the bride and groom drive to various scenic bridges/cupid fountains/weather patterns that have left a rainbow, to shoot several memory sticks of sepia toned olan mills moments is just churlish. meanwhile, your jetlagged friends have navigated the stinky pt cruiser through armageddon twice in order to find the type of chain restaurant that nails grandfather clocks, unicycles and football helmets to the wall, all to sit and nurse $15 drinks the colour of antifreeze, while dressed in freshly dry cleaned ann taylor loft for 5 hours.

finally, no one under the age of 68 enjoys sugared almonds in a net bag- even if they are colour matched to your bridesmaids' shoes. and no one 69-plus has enough natural tooth to aid in the mastication and digestion of pastel covered hardware. candles are always the more considerate option, because if they don't melt all over the interior surface of your suitcase while sitting on the luggage cart at gate D12, they are easily stored in kitchen cupboards behind the bread machine and smiley face waffle maker.

and for those who don't want to spend the ceremony-reception limbo sitting at the bar in TGI friday's, stalking a mariachi band warming up in the car park provides an alternative diversion.

* for nuptuals set in the motor city, there were disappointingly few crack pipe centre pieces.

run and repeat

2009-05-27T12:05:00.000-07:00

there are the kinds of people who get up at 4am on a sunday to run 20 miles and do not require an application of bodyglide to the top of their thighs. who do not "round up", and talk about their time in terms of seconds. who have their own lexical set; "splits", "repeats", "recovery", that are just as obtuse to me as coming back from a quick bathroom break during an episode of "lost".

these are also the people who meet at a running track once a week to perfect their single digit minute miles-- my large intestine and pulmonary vein consistently cap my own pace at a firm 10 to 11. and so i was the misfit tourist on track night tuesday; checking out the ratio of "chicken drum sticks" to "chopstick" legs (about 1:15). this was only the beginning of a focus on mathematics. it became quickly evident why i was never promoted to advanced level maths class, when "lean" and "sinewy" began talking about 400's and 800's. running (in this fashion) is miserable enough, why the hell add multiplication? perhaps we could recite the periodic table at each turn just to make it even more convivial.

and so we all took a nice, 2 mile "warm up" "jog", over to the local neighborhood's north face for some "hill repeats": sprint to the summit, and enjoy an invigorating recovery walk back down-- as you empty the contents of your baked beans on toast all over the tarmac, fortunately unable to hear your own retching due to the pounding on your ear drums.

as everyone launched up the hill like a pack of comic book superheroes, it was just me and the 56 year old man with the beer gut, bringing up the rear. my heart rate monitor registered "cardiac arrest".

"beer gut" is my new bff.

distance running during the winter does not toughen up one's crotch

2009-05-25T16:10:00.000-07:00

due to the last 9 months of: home improvement/puppy is pac man on crack/winter weather makes me want to sit in my recliner and smoke crack, lockdown, there has been very little fat tyre action since last autumn.

what a relief to finally hear the sounds of; bloodsucking electric toothbrushes in my ears, indicating the impending red bubble wrap braille welts around the ankles, kamikaze tree branches leaping into the bike spokes, and to recognize that i have yet to fully master "the wooden bridge"-- or any wooden bridge, for that matter.

my ptfb (post traumatic fear of bridges) is more paralyzing than the one where i balloon to 180lbs and become relegated to shopping in the 'black-stretch-pants-with-stirrups-and-a-"comfort"-waist-band' section at wal-mart. fortunately, this particular state park has many opportunities to systematically desensitize myself with crossings ranging in width from toilet roll to tampon.

only 4 and a half months to go until the 50 miler.

making the announcement: moving on with someone new

2009-05-24T13:40:00.000-07:00

when two people inevitably go their separate ways, it is always hard for someone to 'start over'. the familiar quirks or annoying habits are suddenly missed, and these individuals begin to take on a newsweek magazine 'person of the year' quality that is irreplaceable. fortunately, humans, no matter how co-dependent, are fickle, and after thinking that no one could ever live up to my dad's shoes, i was able to find a worthy replacement.

and then she moved to asheville; suddenly i was shopping around for someone else to run with who met criteria for: lethargic pace, parallel neuroses, and compatible views on start times (4am is not an acceptable hour to become acquainted with lactic acid).

and then i moved.

magazine columnists assert that after a couple of rebounds, the 'one' has usually either been right under your nose and/or (subsequently) not what you were expecting. i have officially found myself another blonde to cover the many miles of asphalt with. he gives me a reason to get out of the door (turning the living room into a post-apocalyptic movie set at 5 o'clock every day is too exhausting for all parties), maintains the aforementioned pace due to his dwarf-like inside leg measurement, and also appears to garner the same level of uninvited attention from motorists, pedestrians, and canines, to keep a building site busy for a week.

he is, however, unable to relate to my chafing woes, but will happily sniff at them, or any other runner we happen to encounter.

you are what you eat

2009-05-20T17:51:00.000-07:00

it's very important to get the food right at an intervention.

during this current period of financial non-denominational "rapture", it is now becoming more urgent for the start-up-former-herbal-candle-making-entrepeneur to recognize the stressors that are patently spilling over into the general populus' over-taxed interpersonal relationships-- and consequently expand (exploit?) the relevant skill set, in order to meet the need of a new demographic of diagnostic consumer.

confronting anyone party to a domestic violence situation, should only be accented with fare that is soft, cold and non-acidic. the ethiopian food genre maintains an overall theme promoting pacifism for any such gathering, being that it is both malleable and lacking in any crockery. however, should picky eaters, the allergy prone, or a nutritional neophyte be in attendance, hummus, brownie batter (no nuts or chips), and jello pudding/jello salad/jello sundaes/jello corn dogs are typically more marketable sustenance to the less discerning McPalate. * additionally, preparation is key; cooked (and chilled) asparagus is acceptable, grilled or blanched is not. unfortunately, a long time potluck favourite, green bean casserole is cuisine non grata due to the walmart made in china, china and it's volcanic temperatures upon presentation. neither is chili a viable option. or kebabs. or fondue. in fact anything requiring chopsticks is potentially more hazardous than serving pigs in unleavened blankets at a bar mitzvah. finally, pineapple, avacados and peaches should be left for the clinically depressed and obsessive compulsives; pits leave bruises.

* catering for the sex addict's hopeful 'wake-up moment' is more limiting than a kosher-vegan diet; no hot dogs, baguettes, pies, pumpkins, or even a benign tureen of oatmeal-- and definitely no pesto. cornflakes and toast are about as experimental as things should get.

save the date

2009-05-17T19:17:00.000-07:00

wedding season is officially open, and rather than dealing with the "do i have to go?"/power struggle over a suit and tie versus cargo shorts and t-shirt/pouting that there is insufficient protein at the buffet table, the solution to the age old; 'who will serve as my two legged reception accessory' is as simple as 'just add girlfriend'. this is someone who can appreciate the nuances of a bride's decolletage (and doesn't think that means something to happen on "third base"), and agrees with you that the groom serenading his new wife with a little apres-ceremony lounge singing is very sweet, quite brave and totally thoughtful. not to mention that it is perfectly acceptable if your date gets hit on.

and what reception is complete without a little baby break dancing?

castration is not the new valium

2009-05-13T18:21:00.000-07:00

my obsession with capturing axel in a still, being still, is to feed my own denial that perhaps he could be an eddie bauer catalogue pooch.

after he chewed the plug off the george foreman grill, desecrated the coffee maker, consumed half a container of gatorade powder mix, helped himself to a chocolate-is-toxic-for-dogs-chip-cookie, severed two leashes within the space of an afternoon, and appears to have acquired a taste for merlot, the decision was made for him to part ways with his parts.

the people who tell you that neutering will "take the edge off", are the same deceivers who keep adding an extra eight months to how long the puppy stage lasts. this dog is indestructible-- and has fewer pain receptors than plankton.

post-op, i went to collect my fresh little eunuch, and appear to have become the local, dog owning hester prynne. "you must be here to pick up axel/have you considered obediance classes/a special leash/a synthetic bone/the benefits of a private tutorial with an animal behaviour specialist/you know labs need lots of exercise [women who wear scrubs 8 hours a day, 5 days a week could benefit from exercising a lab]/ever since that marley movie came out we've seen all these nesting couples/starter families take on more than they can handle". apparently axel is being raised lord of the flies style.

i tend to think it's a little more walt disney than william golding.

itinerant

2009-05-08T12:22:00.000-07:00

recently arriving into san diego's airport, i was met with a series of faces that were as familiar to me as those i had just spent 5 hours looking at in US weekly; minus the boobs, botox and bevy of octo-babies-- speaking of, she must be a little cheesed at the whole advent of swine flu now occupying serious, journalistic breakfast television and hysterical, afternoon couch time.

willie

eddie

dave

neil shigley is a san diego artist responsible for the series "invisible people" http://www.neilshigley.com/ plexiglass prints of the city's homeless population. each print is marked with their personal, transient's co-ordinates; name, age, intersection, and a symbol from the 'hobo alphabet'- google it and improve your trivial pursuit quotient.

and where else, but balboa park, can you take a nap by the rose garden while your unmentionables finish up in the eco-friendly rinse cycle.

when in southern california...

2009-05-04T19:09:00.000-07:00

in an effort to try something new- sea urchin sushi being a little too "fear factor" for my diminutive palate- i got a professional pedicure. san diego's finest filipina ladies got to work on my, apparently very crusty, size 5's.

i have experienced turbulence more relaxing.

pedicures would be infinitely more tolerable if they didn't involve such intimate contact with the feet. i am violently opposed to having my instep touched- and not in an 'ooh, that tickles' way- more 'ooh, that triggers a 3.5 richter scale seizure' sort of way. and once lolita had recovered from the shocking sight of a black toenail and crusty callus barnacles- note: she was the only pedicurist to put on a face mask (and not in a swine flu kind of way)- she got to work using tower of london torture paraphernalia. fortunately, there was plenty of real time reality tv to distract; a perimenopausal primadonna to the left, informing us all that she had just come from a massage/practicing macrobiotic pilates for the third time that week was pipped at the post by the SoCal norman rockwell family; mum, dad, colour co-ordinated pre-teens texting on their dooney and bourke blackberrys.

rather like baskin and robbins, the pedicuree can order extra features for an additional fee; french, french with sparkly bits hot glue gunned on, rainbows, sparkly rainbows with leaping leprechauns astride sparkly unicorns. i opted for 'stubbed and bleeding toenail'.

becoming a man

2009-04-23T16:28:00.000-07:00

there are some canine gender traditionalists who feel very strongly about: "the leg lift", and at 5 months old, believe that it is time axel shifted from a plie in second position to a grand battement in first-- to appropriately drain his bladder on the closest tree/5'1 slightly neurotic, blonde human/ottoman.

i have put in many hardship, puppy toilet training hours during the 'enough snow to bury a golf cart' winter storm this past january/february/march, and the absence of steamy yellow puddles left in little dipper constellation across the rug, is enough of a result for me. while axel may continue to pee like a girl well into his dotage, is of little consequence. should he wish to raise a leg as he gets older, that will be his decision, and despite an overwhelming proclivity towards co-dependence, i have no intentions to stand by and lift a hindquarter for him.

i want my mummy!

2009-04-14T16:35:00.000-07:00

listening to an adult woman wax histrionic about how her mother is the prototype human vending machine, dispensing travel sized packets of guilt and criticism, is about as compelling as her equally toxic relationship with cramps and chocolate. ragging on your mum is soooo last season; maternal blame is no longer the new black.

and so mine came to visit for three weeks- try telling that to aforementioned adult woman and prepare to dodge the anecdotal barrage of 'ended in tears' shopping trips, 'silent treatment' holidays, and 'another year of disappointment' birthdays, all marinating in a balsamic reduction of adolescent resentment-- it should be noted that efforts to out-exaggerate girlfriends on who has the most dysfunctional relationship can earn additional points.

we shared a car wreck (not my fault), take-out lobster (twice), copious amounts of alcohol (to numb the consecutive fibre glass wounds from cleaning the attic/deluge in the basement), puppy self-defense techniques, navigating the downtown area with "bostonians are worse than saudi drivers and hoosiers", anesthesia and extracted molars, and a futile power struggle for the remote to watch/avoid 'dancing on ice with your starry idol'.

after years of practice making a building feel like home, once again she has left a ripple. that, a freshly shop vacced basement, and an origami installation of bath towels to bring an entire army of housekeepers to their knees.

"it can flush five golf balls"

2009-04-09T18:13:00.000-07:00

for the last 8 months i have been checking email/facebook/blogging every morning, planted upon a minty throne. and despite the obvious calming properties of the colour green to promote colonic dilation, i am willing to take the risk of "lavatory legs" and haemherroids for something a little more contemporary-- versus the current bowl that has obviously been ergonomically designed for an oompa-loompa.

i am also eager to test the 'golf ball guarantee'.

LOSE WEIGHT! GUARANTEED! OR YOUR MONEY BACK! ORDER NOW!

2009-04-04T15:55:00.001-07:00

forget pricey trips to india for the purpose of fine tuning your downward facing dog with a leathery octogenarian wrapped in charmin. rather than investing $88 in registration plus flights, hotel and new shoes to shuffle arm pit to arm pit for 26 miles around new york city at 5am, there is a new and better way to shed those unwanted layers of bruschetta, triple chocolate organic cookie dough, and family sized bottles of moscato, that are gripping in barnacles of cellulite to your upper thighs.

the "puppy plan" has an extensive menu to cover all vegan-kosher-lactose-gluten-picky-eater tastes. the 18-24 month regimen includes as many AA batteries, fridge magnets, egg shells, banana peels, and electric toothbrush points, as you want. it is also supplemented with a high-impact workout commencing promptly at 8am and 5:30pm, daily. it incorporates cardio (leaping off the ottoman onto other domesticated animals), pilates (stretching into the kitchen sink to lick the cereal bowl), and co-ordination and balance (rug surfing down two flights of stairs into the recycling).

side effects include flourescent coloured shits and some seriously pissed off housemates.