April 2008

boss: Those Jamaicans are crooks.  I guess that’s the only way they can make money.

me: Well, they can play steel drums and sell marijuana.

boss: Jamaica isn’t even that great of an island.

  • All the good music was when I was in high school.
  • Kids today are “those punk kids.”  Which means anyone younger than me.
  • I wear tennis shoes every day.
  • The number of medicines in my cabinet.
  • I get stiff from sitting down.
  • I think swimsuits should look like this:

Or possibly, with long arms.  I am horrified that such a thing as a bikini was ever invented.

  • Fashionable bikinis cover less than my customary undergarments.
  • I like my jeans to have just a touch of lycra.
  • I forget EVERYTHING.
  • Saving 23 cents is exciting.
  • Finding a penny on the ground is exciting.
  • I fondly remember “the good ol’ days,” when a stamp or phone call could be had for a mere 25 cents…and gas cost 69 cents a gallon.  I told my dad to buy a bunch of barrels and gas cans and stock up.  I was only 16 at the time and couldn’t afford to do it myself.  I bet he regrets not listening to me now.  We could be rich!  Well, he would be rich.  I would probably be pretty much the same, except maybe he would give me a discount.

I am starting to think about what “gear” I need for marathon training (and cross-training).  And starting to think about collecting it.  I’m putting this list here, not because I think any of my 3 readers care, but because I make a lot of lists and I think my husband will go crazy if he finds another piece of paper around the house with a list on it – my lists usually get lost, so I end up making them over and over again, and leaving bits of scribbled-on paper behind me like Hansel and Gretel.  Although if any of my 3 readers has any of these items lying around not currently being used, I will happily adopt them, as buying all this stuff new would break the bank.  Here’s my list so far:

  • swimsuit.  This one is hard.  I have a real difficulty in forking over $50 or more for something made of mere polyester & lycra.  Also finding one that meets my modesty standards is difficult.  The kind with legs, like shorts, on them would be great…but you have to be an Olympic champion to afford them.  I don’t know why, they’re still just polyester & lycra.*
  • possibly board shorts.  See above.
  • Membership to local aquatic center.
  • pedometer.  I don’t trust local cities’ estimates of their trail systems.  I don’t know how pedometers in my price range (cheap) work anyway, they may not be any more accurate.
  • timer/stopwatch.  One that included a pedometer would be awesome.  But probably not in my price range (cheap).
  • yoga/pilates DVD.  To increase flexibility and decrease risk of injury.
  • stability ball.  To go along with pilates.  Maybe.  I have really poor balance so I’m not too sure about this one yet.  The ones with an anit-pop guarantee are more expensive…and after an incident in which one of Jake’s family members was injured when the stability ball popped, an anti-pop guarantee is important.
  • sweat-sucking clothing.  I think most manufacturers refer to it as “sweat-wicking.”  They suck the sweat off your skin and let it evaporate faster.  This is important for those of us stupid enough to train in Texas, in the summer.  Soggy, sweaty shirts are so discouraging – and disgusting.  I have a few shirts like this, but will need a few more since I plan to be sweating quite a bit more in the upcoming months.
  • maybe an extra pair of running shoes?  I’ll re-evaluate about halfway through training.

I think that’s it…for now.  I’ll be scouring craigslist and ebay in the upcoming weeks as I try to get in shape for training.  Training…for training sounds weird.  But looking at any marathon training plan, I know I won’t make it through week one.  I am pretty excited now about staring my plan, but considering the entry fee, the Team World Vision fee, airfare there & back, and getting all this extra stuff I have concluded that marathoning is an expensive hobby.  Depending on how this one goes I may have to keep it up to recoup some of my investment. 

*Note: I will buy the swimsuit new.  Just in case anyone was concerned.

Every summer, which means about 9 months out of the year, I wonder what possessed human beings to populate the great land known as Texas.  The heat – relentless, overpowering, merciless – kills people every summer.  I’m not exaggerating.  I wish I were.  The only reason more people don’t die is air conditioning, which obviously wasn’t such a lifesaver back in covered wagon days.

But in spring…I know why they set up camp here.

How could you not want to live here?  Views like that make you think anything is possible, even fresh starts.  Especially when the weather is awesome, which it always is for 2-4 weeks, conveniently at the same time as the bluebonnets and other wildflowers.

Of course one or two months later they were cursing the gods.  Also I would like to note that, due to the DFW area being pretty much paved, I see views like that in between various highways, so I have to use my imagination.  But Texas wildflowers…there’s just nothing like it.


*Note: I jacked these pictures off the internet.  But they are from Texas.

I got home after work last Friday and spent a glorious half hour looking through a box of new books which arrived from CBD.  Like Christmas!  I wondered why Jake hadn’t called; I usually hear from him between 5:30 and 5:45.  Still, not too uncommon to not hear from him by 6.  I called but he didn’t answer.  I went outside to de-trailer trash our house (read: pull a ton of really tall weeds) and around 6:30 was a bit concerned.  Called a few more times.  At 7 I started calling friends/family to see if they had heard from him, and mad that we didn’t have the internet so I could check traffic conditions for his drive home.  At 7:30 I was wondering why we had never discussed burial preferences.  Cremation or burial, I wondered.  What if he’s not dead, just paralyzed from the horrible accident I just KNOW he was in, can I be as patient as Mrs. Reeves…and then he called.

“Hey,” he says in a voice like, “What’s wrong?  I noticed you called about eight times, are you OK?”


“I’m at work…I got called into a meeting, and I just got out.”


“What’s wrong?  What time is it?”


And then he felt really bad.  Really, really bad.  I am pretty good in emergencies; I don’t fall apart til the crisis is past.  So when he called, and it was his voice I heard and not some nurse in an ER, I kinda fell apart.  He took me to Olive Garden to make it up to me, which made me so happy.  I love eating out, I think it is just the biggest treat.  And Olive Garden has Zuppa Toscana, and Ravioli di Portobello, and breadsticks, and raspberry lemonade, and those lovely Andes mints.

On Saturday we went to an arts festival in Deep Ellum.  We go to the Main Street Arts Festival in Ft. Worth every year, but we will miss it this year, which is sad because it’s an annual tradition for us.  Our favorite vendor, Iona Books, wasn’t going to be at the Ft. Worth one anyway, so we decided to catch them at Deep Ellum because I wanted to get one for Jake for his upcoming birthday.  Iona Books are very awesome.  They are handcrafted leather books with this great paper inside…you just look at them and know that suddenly, you have something very important to write/draw/other artsy thing inside.  This makes them a perfect gift for an artsy person or writer.  You can order online,  but it is much more inspiring to see a variety of them, in different sizes and leathers and papers, all spread out on the table.  And then you can pick out the one that speaks to your soul, or whatever.  So we went for Jake to pick out his very own Iona Book, see Piper Sandals (which are also very awesome, by the way, the best sandals EVER), and also hoping to see a great arts fest.

We were 1/3 successful.  Iona was there, Piper Sandals was not…and the rest of the Deep Ellum fest was a bust.  Nothing very great, some booths with things like “Crystal Frogs For Good Luck” and the like.  But Jake did get a great book, which was the most important mission of the day.  There was a particular size he wanted, and they didn’t have any in that size except photo albums.  So we were going to have to go up in size and spend $10 more, which was fine.  After discovering we are Main Street regulars she gave us a 10% discount as an apology for not being at that fest…and knocked an extra $1 off so she wouldn’t have to make $19 change.  So we got the bigger book for the price we were originally expecting to pay.  This, of course, made me extremely happy, almost as if it were my own birthday present.  A very happy two days…except for the panic, of course.

This is just really great.

I need a hair cut.  Badly.

Every time I go to a haircutter, they ask what I want.  I’m like, “I don’t know, you’re the artist, what would look good and be low maintenance?”  My three requirements are: 1. The majority of the hairs on my head need to be long enough to make some sort of ponytail.  I don’t mind wisps falling out but a ponytail is about all I know how to do to hair.  2. Low maintenance.  I never learned how to “fix” hair.  3. No bangs.  I had bangs as a kid.  They always needed fixing.  They were always in my eyes.  Then I saw Crystal Gale on Sesame Street and got inspired to grow them out.  They stayed in my eyes for about 2 more years until they were long enough to pull back.  My friend Amanda got those new-fangled swoopy bangs which look good.  Sometimes I think those might not be so bad but I’m so helpless at fixing hair I’m suspicious of any bangs.

Every single answer is, “How about some nice long layers, with some to frame your face?”  And I say OK.  The result is that I always have the same hair “style.”  I can get several inches cut off and no one even notices.  Which is fine, I guess, I’ve never liked people looking at me.  I’m just debating if I should go get a good haircut and pay $40 or go to Great Clips with a coupon for $12.  It’s such a basic cut I hate paying a lot but I really like having my hair shampooed by someone else.  Actually I hate the idea of paying anyone to remove part of my own body.  I found some instructions online and tried to talk Jake into cutting it for me but he won’t.

Yesterday I was out and about, on an access road turning left under the highway.  As I went through the intersection to turn I was surprised to see a car on the other side of the intersection, on the access road, facing me.  It was going the wrong way on a one-way street.  I caught a glimpse of two guys in the car, both wearing those priest shirts, black with the white collar thingy.  They tried to back up into a gas station to turn around.  I thought this was ironic since they are supposed to be giving people direction for life and eternity, and they can’t navigate a one-way street.

Next Page »