Monday, September 28, 2009
*Falling off a moving treadmill in front of all the "popular boys" at the gym. I got stuck laying on my side, laughing so hard that I could not get up, the rubber stripping off the top 12 layers of skin on my leg, until the machine decided to spit me off the back. Seven months later, there are still people who were at the gym that day who avoid eye-contact.
*More um, "pit stops" than I care to remember during long runs, including one, out sheer desperation, on the grounds of a church.
*Running into a parked car, in broad daylight, and chipping my front tooth. The good news was that it was just a week prior to my family's "Hillbilly" party, so I held off getting it repaired until after the party. I definately deserved a prize for "most authentic teeth".
*Learning that at about mile 14, my body decides it has had enough of this stupid, monotonous running activity and it rebels in the form of searing knee and hip pain. I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to the last 12.2 miles of the marathon.
But despite being the world's biggest quitter (except when it comes to wine and ice-cream consumption), I have stuck with my training and I am going to run a marathon, people! Friends from the coast are coming to Portland to celebrate/act as pall-bearers. There will be a pre-race dinner at a fancy Italian restaurant (aka the Last Meal) and cupcakes for Anna's birthday. There will be pain and suffering and ice-baths. There might be crying. But there will also be pride and accomplishment.
And there will be Guinness. Lots and lots of Guinness.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
It is un-acceptable that the insurance companies take our money, every single month, and then if god-forbid we actually get hurt or sick, they get to decide if they will use our money to pay our medical bills. It is not ok that if we lose our employer-provided health-care and we have, say, arthritis or have been examined for domestic violence, we can be denied insurance (insurance which WE will pay for) based on a "pre-existing condition."
There current system is terribly flawed. American people are suffering and dying, while the insurance executives are buying private islands on our dime. Our President is trying to fix something that is broken. What, exactly, are people protesting against, other than the fact that Obama is for it?
Monday, September 21, 2009
Friday, September 18, 2009
Here is my response:
We lived in Pacific City for 10 years. Charming little drinking village with a fishing problem.
It's easy to live there! Here's how:
*Be independently wealthy, via lottery, trust fund or retirement (or of course you could be a dot.commer who got out in time) and therefore have no need to make a living.
*Work in the service industry which means a) you sell your soul to the devil (ie tourists) and b) you will be so busy that you won't have the time or energy to enjoy that "quality of life" you moved there to enjoy. Might as well sell that surf-board, kayak and camping gear. You won't be using that stuff anymore!
*Oh! And let's not forget: DEVELOPER, which, of course, means you must be independently wealthy AND sell your soul to the devil, but hey, some body's got to get rich building cheesy "beach" houses all over every hillside. Might as well be you, right?
We owned an organic-espresso shop/bookstore overlooking the Pacific, so all the intellectual liberals (all 3 of them!) gathered at our place for coffee and conversation.
If I sound bitter, well, 154 inches of rain annually will do that to a person. When people ask me if I miss it, I burst into hysterical, uncontrollable laughter.
I know, I know, there are people who manage to live and thrive on the coast (Hi Bob! Hi Rod! Hi Greg!) but it takes a special breed of person. A resilient person. A resourceful person. A mentally unstable person. Much like people who can live in Alaska.
Today, as I sit under the eves of our sweet charming house, looking out the skylights at the towering 140 year old Ponderosa pines, the sun is shining, it's in the mid-seventies and you can feel autumn in the air.
I miss my old coastal friends, but they come visit; they come here to dry out and warm up and they marvel at how warm and lovely it is at 10 o'clock at night as we dine outside. They always leave fantasizing about moving here. The grass IS always greener, I guess. Me? I'm perfectly, blissfully happy on THIS side of the fence.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Friday, September 11, 2009
3:56pm: 2 large deadheads spotted of North Idaho College beach.
My only question is, was it the scent of patchouli that gave them away, or were they sharing a pint of Cherry Garcia?
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Thanks to the great "cosmic blunder" brought about by my waiting until the age of 36 to give birth, I figure Anna's puberty and my menopause will converge with all the spectacular spark-throwing, sulfer-stench of two planets colliding.
Poor, poor David. Dude is going to be in the midst of a shit-storm of hormones here in about 3 years, and it's not going to be pretty.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Here's the story of the boat called "LaBoata". The creater/skipper is the father of 6 kids. He wants to use his boat to ferry (har har) them to the prom. And I thought it was embarrassing when my dad wore slippers in public...
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
I wonder if they remembered to throw in some diced potatoes and herbs.