a new leaf | living every minute of it

Mornings with Dinah (Or, Serenity WOW!)

2010-02-23T12:21:00.001-06:00

Dinah by Thelonious Monk

The song Dinah was named after -- it captures her little personality so well!

I try to do yoga every morning, and these days it has turned into quiet time with Dinah. When I first started, toward the end of my time in New Mexico, I still had all three dogs. Even though I wanted them to hang out during yoga time, that proved an impossibility. I don't know if you've ever tried to lay on the floor when dogs are in the room, but they lose their shit. "Oh my Gawd, she's on the floor! Let's go put our snoots in her face!" Of course, this never happened when I wanted to sleep on the floor with them -- they'd trot off to their respective beds. But if I got on the floor with any sense of purpose (crunches, yoga), it was like feeding time at the koi pond.

Anyway, I can still hear Dinah's little paws on the yoga mat. They made this hollow sound that the other two dogs were too heavy to make. When I'm doing my morning yoga routine, my mind usually wanders off to New Mexico and Dinah's paws. It's a good way to start the day.

As serene as that sounds, my mind usually ends up in the land of wiener dog races, and I can't help but laugh. You know how dogs get feisty sometimes and then sprint on an invented loop in the house for what seems like no reason? Well, when Dinah did it, she'd hunker her rear end down like a motorboat.

The Race (Remastered Club Mix) by Yello

If you know what's good for you, you'll press play while you read the next bit.

One day I came home from work when she and Rocky were in mid-chase. Dinah came flying out of the hallway with the crazy-eye and her tongue flying, with Rocky right on her tail. As they crossed the living room, I thought they would turn around in front of the coffee table. BUT NO! Dinah leaped onto the table, over the bottom cushions of the couch, and then -- turning her body in mid-air -- banked off the back cushions and ran back from whence she came! EGADS! And Rocky, being more potato-y than Dinah, followed suit only without the acrobatics -- his paws clobbered every. single. surface.

Of course, Boots could see that this was lots of fun and wanted to join in. But she was even bigger and more lumbering than Rocky. All she could manage was to bounce her front paws a few times in the direction the other two just ran before they turned and were headed back toward her. This effectively turned her back half into a pivot, and she just hopped her front half back and forth barking her head off as the other two dogs whizzed by.

Suddenly, the claw marks on the coffee table made sense, and the mystery of how stacks of student papers ended up strewn all over the living room was solved. OH MY GAWD, those dogs were so damn funny together. They didn't do this very often when I was home -- I certainly never saw the ninja couch turn -- but they obviously spent a lot of their time alone entertaining themselves this way. I miss them all!

"How Romantic!"

2010-02-10T14:23:00.000-06:00

...said my office mate when I told her I took my time walking back to our office after lecture so I could take some pictures down by the river.

Bridge over the Iowa River

Danforth Chapel

Old State Capitol

Iowa Winter

2010-02-09T14:46:00.000-06:00

I think the best evidence that I can be happy anywhere is the fact that I love Iowa in the winter. So much, in fact, that I started wishing for snow at the end of September this season. The first winter I was here was apparently the worst in about a decade -- bitterly cold, lots of ice. I was fine. My definition of "cold" certainly got revised, but I adapted well. I learned how to strategize my snow removal -- mostly to suck it up and clear some away mid-storm so it would be a little easier the next time I'd have leave the house on a schedule. I also discovered the peculiar comfort that the sound of snow plows in the wee hours of night/morning brings.

Right now a snow storm is dumping 5-9 inches of snow on us. I was leaving downtown this afternoon when it started coming down in big, fluffy flakes -- my favorite! The next thing I knew, I found myself down by the train station, so I fired off a few pictures.

I thought the brick apartment building across the street from the station was especially pretty in the snow. I can only imagine those are also some fantastic sittin' porches in the summer, too. I'll miss those evenings sipping on tall, sweaty glasses of iced tea and air thick with humidity and fireflies. *sigh*

I love Iowa.

On the Subject of Intent

2010-01-24T07:57:00.000-06:00

It is very tempting to try to say what I plan to do with this blog. I will just say that I intend to take about 30 minutes every morning to write in this space, if only to write something every day.

But since hardly anything ever turns out exactly the way we envision, I will take a taoist approach to this as well. Taoism, like cultural studies and performance studies, resists definition and canonization. I suspect that is why I am drawn to all three. In my life I've found that some of the best things have been the result of having no plan. And so it will be with this blog.

And now my 30 minutes is up, so I will get on with the rest of my day. I have to set a time limit because I have a tendency to burn a lot of time pondering pondering pondering. Perhaps a time limit will make me more productive on this blog and in my day. I sure don't have a lot of writing to show for these 30 minutes, but that stands as a testament to how clogged up my writing arteries are.

Finding My Way

2010-01-20T14:08:00.000-06:00

I don't know what it was about 2009. I didn't get anything written or read. I didn't train for anything. I did manage to travel and lay groundwork for some things that are important to me, but in terms of material gains for my effort, I have very little to show for 2009.

I ended the year angry at the world; I decided to abandon academia altogether for some kind of career change. It would come with a $10K/year pay cut (though still double what I make now), and that seemed ill-advised. Still, it was important to me just to free myself mentally from the dysfunctional existence of what it means to be a "serious scholar." (I started several blogs with writings on why life in the academy isn't for me, but they were so angry they seemed a terrible way to begin.) Suffice to say, I have renewed my commitment to the community college mission and the contribution I think I can make there. I'll leave it at that for now as I'm sure the shape of this will only become apparent as I write.

My Mama is "One of Those," Part One

2009-05-23T10:07:00.001-05:00

This is very much a work in progress, but here is the first installment...

I met this Filipina woman once, when I was working in DC at the tail-end of the Clinton administration. When I told her how my parents met, she replied, "Oh, she's one of those." Never before or since has anyone implicated my mother in such a way right to my face, but the comment sticks with me.

I am spending the next month on Baloy Beach, which is just at the northwest edge of Olongapo. The whole beach is about a mile long and portions have been sold to Westerners, primarily Australians, Germans, and Swedes, all of whom (Filipinos included) earn income from tourism. Altogether, it's a chaotic jumble of relatively schwanky joints, shanties, and stuff in between, which is just as easily said about the entire country. Where I am staying is literally the in-between: next door is an eight story hotel, the Wild Orchid, and the neighboring property is occupied by my uncle Pitong’s in-laws. Baloy Beach is mostly owned by descendants of Old Man Baloy (my mom couldn’t remember his name). My great-grandmother on my mom’s dad’s side was Martina Baloy, and this is how we came to posess our portion of the beachfront.

Olongapo sits just outside the perimeter of a former US Naval Base (now Subic Bay Freeport Zone), where my mom waitressed in her early 20s (I was born at the end of the Vietnam War, and now you get the basic plot of my parents’ story). So I suspect, in that woman’s eyes, my mom is one of those Filipinas who married an American and moved on up, Jeffersons-style, to the US. I can’t argue too much with that, except that the woman leveling the accusation was what my mom would call a “showy” Filipino – lots of jewelry, heavily made up, expensive-looking clothing, and the type of Filipina whose family in the PI would probably have a houseboy or maid. Think Imelda Marcos knock-off. In my eyes, she was “one of those.”

By contrast, my mom and her family were of a class likely to be hired as houseboys and maids. But she married her American sailor and moved to the States. She came back in the late nineties, built several rooms to rent on the beach property allotted to her, and hired a series of caretakers over the years (Rony is the current one) to help with the business.

When we arrived, she made him clean my room – scrub the shower, kitchenette, mop – things I felt guilty for having him do when I could easily have done them myself. To me, the space isn’t a hotel room but my home, for the next month anyway. Despite being relatively moneyed in the Philippines, in the US we were still the kind of family who would have been hired as maids. My dad was a mechanic, and my mom worked a series of service jobs when I was growing up. When my mom’s siblings stayed with us as they immigrated to the US, there was a time in high school when I had at least one relative working in every McDonald's in town.

Since Rony didn’t seem to have much else to do anyway, I quit objecting and Mama and I sat in two plastic chairs on her porch while he cleaned my room.

“Hey, that’s what I’m paying him for – he needs to do something to earn it,” my mom told me. “You know, when I was younger, we wanted to do our job – these people just want to get paid.” She grew more agitated. “Because we were hungry. We would go to our aunts and uncles and say, ‘Auntie, let me do that for you, and you give us fruit’ or candy or whatever. Oh, sometimes she had the Baby Ruth. You know this Baby Ruth?” Her fingers indicated what looked to me to be the fun size. “Anyway, not this ‘gimme gimme gimme.’ Oh, like Krissy!” and she slapped my arm with her fan and cackled with laughter. I admit, I could see the comparison coming. “Yeah, sometimes we would steal fruit from the fields, we were so hungry…”

Mama grew up in a small barangay called Pamatawan, about three miles from Baloy Beach. They did their laundry in a nearby river, and were told never to leave their panties drying on the line overnight “because that’s how you get pregnant.” When I visited in 1982, they were still pumping their drinking and cooking water from a well. The second of ten children, my mom was responsible for contributing to the household income when she was old enough to work, and helping to care for her younger siblings long before – and after – that.

“In Pamatawan, we had one bedroom, two living rooms, and one kitchen. All open; no privacy. We sleep on woven straw mats on the floor. All of us. Until we’re old enough to go to work ... I started waitressing on base when I was 17, and all my money went to my family. Then I thought, ‘how long do I have to keep doing this? I give them all my money and there’s nothing left for me!’ So yeah, I was looking for a husband.”

The first world feminist in me – the one who had been told by this very woman not to depend on a man for anything – cringed. She had been one of those.

She abruptly changed topics. “I think I might fire Rony and bring back Beth.” I was aghast at how casually she pondered it. “Well he doesn’t do anything!”

In his defense, I didn’t see that there was all that much to be done. She had no guests besides me, and save the few odd jobs that crop up here and there, there doesn’t appear to be a steady stream of daily activity, so I'm not sure what her actual beef is with this guy. Plus, wasn’t he counting on this as income? And she was just going fire him willy nilly?

“Besides, they hate Beth.” She motioned toward the shanty that stands about twenty feet from her porch.

“Who are they again?”

“They’re your Uncle Pitong’s in-laws. They built that after his wife went to rehab. But she was crazy before that.”

“What’s she in rehab for?”

“Drugs. And then she went crazy over the drugs.”

“What was she addicted to?”

“Oh I don’t know. Cocaine? Or something…”

By the look of that shanty, I couldn’t imagine that she could afford to even try coke, much less support a full-fledged addiction.

“Was it meth?”

“No, I don’t think so…” she said, tentatively.

“Crack? Heroine? Opium?” My mother’s face fell a little as I rattled off a stream of addictive drugs.

“I watch a lot of Intervention,” I assured her.

She called Rony over and asked him in Tagalog about hardcore drugs.

“Ah, shabu. Tama.” She turned back to me, “Shabu is the Tagalog word for it, but I don’t know what it is.”

Hop, skip, and a Google later: meth.

“There’s no way I could have found that out by myself,” I tell her. "People would think I was looking to get some."

Just then, it began to downpour – we are transitioning into monsoon season, after all. Though Mama has a covered porch, summer rains are hard enough to produce spray that wets everything under the eaves, so we went inside and started dinner.

Tune in tomorrow for more on the microeconomy of the beach, my Mama the Capitalist, the fate of Rony's employment, and my evolving first-world ~~guilt~~ perspective on the whole shebang.

Blame it on This Guy...

2009-05-09T15:59:00.005-05:00

I got this little Boogie Man on my lunch break yesterday. My friend says he's like my Jiminy Cricket. I say if this guy is supposed to function as my conscience, then I am going to get into a LOT of trouble.

Paper-Writing Season

2009-04-30T08:41:00.003-05:00

Can't I just turn this in for my final project?

Some New Leaves

2009-04-16T10:10:00.006-05:00

From my front yard. I love Iowa.

I Break Like the What?

2009-04-13T05:16:00.001-05:00

I can't say for certain, but I think this might be the first song anyone ever dedicated to me. Unfortunately, I'm equally uncertain as to whether or not he's making fun of me.

Thanks, Mike.

Holy Crap, I Can't Believe This Exists

2009-04-05T17:25:00.009-05:00

Chocolatey goodness AND fat-free?!
And a serving is TWO bars?!

I'm freaking out!

Nutrition Facts

Serving Size 2 bars (101g)

Servings Per Container 6

Amount Per Serving

Calories 70	Calories from Fat 0

% Daily Values^**

Total Fat 0.5g	1%
Saturated Fat 0g	0%
Trans Fat 0g
Cholesterol less than 0mg	0%
Sodium 90mg	4%
Potassium 210mg	6%
Total Carbohydrate 17g	6%
Dietary Fiber 6g	24%
Sugars 7g
Sorbitol 2g
Protein 4g	8%

I've Got a Can Opener...

2009-04-01T07:50:00.000-05:00

Easy Soysage Omelet with Black Bean and Corn Salsa

...and I'm not afraid to use it.

No foolin'.

Why I WILL Finish this *$&(#! Degree

2009-03-31T09:02:00.003-05:00

Sonuva!

2009-03-23T08:03:00.004-05:00

Three-Season Smoothies

2009-03-21T08:46:00.010-05:00

I think my one-serving blender might be one of the best purchases I've ever made. For some reason, though, I only like to make these from spring to fall.

And it's that time again! Hooray!

Easiest Banana Berry Smoothie in the Land

1 banana
1 1/2 cup mixed berries
~1 cup cran-raspberry juice

Directions:
1. Put all ingredients in blender.
2. Blend.
3. Drink.

If I Have to be Awake at 4am

2009-03-19T04:37:00.003-05:00

...I might as well have these two singing in my ear while I sip my tea.

Felicity Part Three

2009-03-18T00:01:00.002-05:00

In case there were any lingering doubts about colors and places to be, take a look at this cookie jar I painted circa 1998 at the beginning of my blue and yellow phase.

It is one of very few possessions that made it through the last 12 moves. I love this cookie jar. And it's never even held cookies! Only tea and recipe cards! I love it because it is so calming and blissful. Light, airy spaces -- that's all I want in life.

Right now it sits on the counter in my yellow (!) kitchen next to a window that looks out on a bed of wildflowers in the summer.

Does it look familiar? It should.

Here is my favorite picture of myself, taken by the side of the road somewhere in Oregon in 1997. It doesn't really point to a special time in my life, but I think it captures the best of my spirit -- who I would like to be, without the mania that sometimes accompanies orange.

But you know what takes the cake? This picture I took on a bike ride a couple weeks after I moved to Iowa. Oh, and for the record, I did not get off my bike or stop pedaling to take this picture. What can I say? You can take the girl out of orange, but you can't take orange out of the girl...

"Is this heaven?"
"No. It's Iowa."

I Found the Phone!

2009-03-17T19:47:00.006-05:00

...four days later. In the couch cushions. I don't know why I'm surprised.

Keeps Getting Better

2009-03-17T18:00:00.007-05:00

As if this day couldn't get any better (it was 78 today!!), I was greeted by this in the checkout line:

And Then Mary Nailed It

2009-03-17T12:59:00.005-05:00

Just go here.

It's everything I've needed to say and needed to hear.

Versions of Me...In Living Color

2009-03-17T10:43:00.013-05:00

Note: I didn't plan this post for St. Patty's Day, but it sorta worked out, no?

February was a strange month. It started with a batch of clean laundry and the choice between putting on my orange or green turtleneck. Orange had long been my defining color. At one point, there was so much orange in my wardrobe that it constituted an entire load of laundry on its own. But the green...I had never really liked green at all before, but somehow, that green sweater was calling me. Twice before this I had chosen the green over the orange, but that day the choice bothered me. Was I no longer the kinda gal who draped herself in orange? And why all of a sudden was I being drawn to green?

Later that week, I attempted to do some spring cleaning. The fatal error was beginning in the room that houses my trunk-o-stuffs. You know, the one with yearbooks, old letters, track ribbons, PHOTOS. "Sidetracked" doesn't even begin to describe what happened.

It was one thing to look over all these different versions of myself, at different times in my life, through pictures and letters and journals. Then around mid-month, there was an odd e-mail exchange wherein I was confronted by yet another version of myself, this time through another's eyes. It was very idealized, and I was left wondering what happened that version of myself, and whether she ever really existed in the first place. On top of that, my advisor shared a letter of recommendation she wrote for me. Seriously, I don't know who she was writing about. I mean, there were parts that felt vaguely familiar, but other parts that left me feeling like an inadequate fraud. (She assures me it was the truth...*shrug*)

All of that leads me back to the colors. Some people have the same favorite color their whole lives, but mine has changed a bit over the past ten years. (Oh man, has it really been that long?!) In some ways, I can see people treating me like an orange-yellow person even though, on the inside, I feel like I'm growing into someone else. So I decided to look up what my favorite colors might reveal about me, and I think it accounts for the different periods of my life better than anything I might have put in my trunk.

1997-2001 Yellow. These are the years I was finishing college, moving to DC for grad school, then Seattle, then back to New Mexico for another master's degree.

Yellow is the color of happiness, wisdom and imagination, Yellow is chosen by the mentally adventurous, searching for novelty and self-fulfillment. Yellow usually goes with a sunny and shrewd personality, with a good business head and a strong sense of humor. It is the color of intellectuality and all things to do with the mind. Yellow folks are usually clear and precise thinkers who have a good opinion of their own mental capacities and who have lofty ideals. They may at times tend to shun responsibility, preferring freedom of thought and action.

2001-2007 Enter orange. To quote a Faith Hill tune, I'd say these years could easily be characterized as "living and loving and learning the hard way." Also: "full speed ahead," and "taking big fat juicy bites out of life" would cover it too. Yellow was still very much a part of it, but in more of a supporting role until the orange overshadowed it completely around 2003-4. I love orange for it's brashness and impracticality. I mean, it's RIDICULOUS! Love it! Plus, not many people like orange or have the guts to wear it. In your early-mid twenties, that's all fine and good. But late 20s into your 30s...well, I'll say that I still like orange and yellow but have less need for an all-encompassing orange lifestyle.

Orange: This color of luxury and pleasure appeals to the flamboyant and fun-loving person who likes a lively social round. Orange people may be inclined to dramatize a bit, and people notice them, but they are generally good-natured and popular. They can be a little fickle and vacillating, but on the whole they try hard to be agreeable. Orange is the color of youth, strength, fearlessness, curiosity and restlessness.
2009 Green. I guess my trend toward green has been two or three years in the making. I've really been wanting to move toward a life of balance and peace so I can thrive. Hence, the latest blog makeover.

The color of harmony and balance, green symbolizes hope, renewal and peace, and is usually liked by the gentle and sincere. Greens are generally frank, community-minded people, fairly sociable but preferring peace at any price. Green people can be too self-effacing, modest and patient, so they may get exploited by others. They are usually refined, civilized and reputable.

In reality, I'm not sure if I'm really going all the way to green as the star, but it is definitely part of an ensemble cast. When I look back, blue has always been in the mix as a supporting player, accented by white. Given their descriptions, I see how they fit into the background as minor, but present, parts of myself. Not surprisingly, when orange took over, the blue dropped out entirely.

Blue: Soft, soothing, compassionate and caring, blue is the color of deliberation and introspection, conservatism and duty. Patient, persevering, conscientious, sensitive and self-controlled, Blues like to be admired for their steady character and wisdom. They are faithful, but are often worriers with somewhat inflexible beliefs and can be too cautious, and suspicious of flamboyant behavior.

White: Symbolic of purity, innocence and naivete, white has strong connotations of youth and purity. If you are an older person, your preference for white could indicate a desire for perfection and impossible ideals, maybe an attempt to recapture lost youth and freshness. It may also symbolize a desire for simplicity or the simple life.

That scene above is how I think I will always remember Iowa. Blue skies, puffy white clouds, and green rolling hills.

But green. I think I'm going to feature green for a little while...for all the reasons Kermit thinks it's not easy, and for all the reasons it's what he wants to be.

Felicity Part Two

2009-03-16T18:05:00.011-05:00

Sprouts in my front yard. They emerged after harsh times, and so can I.

So the "Four Things" meme is going around on Facebook at the moment, and one of the items is "List four places you'd rather be right now."

And for all my bitching and moaning as of late...there isn't another place I'd rather be.

So I left it blank. All four slots.

I have a feeling this PhD will turn out like my first Ironman: long and painful, but I was happy to be there and smiled almost the entire time.

Felicity, indeed.

Da Boy!

2009-03-16T10:04:00.001-05:00

Rocky stalks neighborhood children.

Felicity (n.):

2009-03-15T11:27:00.001-05:00

the state of being happy, esp. in a high degree; bliss: marital felicity.
an instance of this.
a source of happiness.
a skillful faculty: felicity of expression.
an instance or display of this: the many felicities of the poem.
Archaic. good fortune

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This is actually the third version of this post. The two previous versions somehow veered off into two separate and distinct tirades about the various ways I do not enjoy some of the people and circumstances of my doctoral program. A choice (but abbreviated) excerpt:

"If you want a life-enriching educational experience, where there is joy in learning new things for their own sake, then get yourself a Master's degree. If, however, you would like a daily assault on your self-worth and to be surrounded by people so consumed with status that they can't stop posturing for even one second to realize that the most necessary first step in real learning is to admit you don't know, then consider pursuing a PhD."

And that's not even the worst of it. Yikes.

Here is what I really want to say:

Last week I embarked on a journey through all four seasons of Felicity. If you aren't familiar with this show, it's basically the story of a curly-headed girl finding herself through her college years/early adulthood. There is a scene in one of the first season episodes where Felicity is watching Ben (!) run. She ponders the fact that he is good at something he really loves. That is what the PhD business was supposed to be for me. Triathlon, too.

Long story short: I'm am extracting myself from all the falderol to concentrate on my own stuff, my own joy, my own reasons for being in the program and in the world. When I'm focused and committed (read: not distracted by nonsense), I am good at this school thing and I love it. I've been wasting a lot of my time spinning my wheels and concerning myself with other people's garbage and shooting myself in the foot in my attempts to resist. I have found some great people here who energize me both intellectually and emotionally, and they are the ones I will let into my life and on whom I will expend my emotional energy.

So I'm putting the "break" in "spring break." This post marks the break I am making with the bad habits and negative energy. I'll use the week off from school to gain some momentum so I won't be easily derailed once classes begin again.

That's it.

Done.

Over.

Next.

'K' is for Knife

2009-02-08T13:39:00.009-06:00

One day when I was a senior in high school (I think I was 16, but when you read what follows, you'll see it makes no difference if I was 16 or 17), I came home to an empty house. I don't remember why my mom wasn't there, but she left me a note:

There's a pork chop in the fridge. Heat it up in the microwave, but not too hot so you don't get burned. Cut it in small pieces and chew carefully so you don't choke.

It's a good thing she added that last sentence because I had other plans for that pork chop.

On first glance, it would seem that if she were that worried about me chewing carefully, she maybe shouldn't have left me unsupervised with knives. But she's savvy, my mama. Despite many successful dinners in which I cut and chewed my own meat without incident, she must have known I had been secretly biding my time...waiting to be left home alone with meat and cutlery.

My natural inclination is to swallow slabs of meat whole, just to see what happens. To be perfectly frank, I sometimes daydream what it would be like to be one of those snakes that can unhinge its jaws to eat its prey whole. But in this case, my burning desire not to chew my meat carefully (much less at all) was outweighed by my desire to heed my mama's warnings. I mean, how much trouble would I have been in if she came home and I was passed out on the kitchen floor with half a pork chop lodged in my gullet? Though tempting, it wouldn't be worth a week of phone restriction. Yes, it was a good thing she wrote that last sentence.

Nevertheless, I was still a little insulted by this note.

Did she *really* have to tell me not to make the pork chop too hot in the microwave? I'm pretty sure my survival instinct would have kept me from continuing to eat blazing hot meat after singeing my taste buds. In fact, while in a rush to get to class last week, I poured boiling water into my to-go cup with a tea bag. And when I burned myself trying to drink it too soon, I spit it right out. Right out. And I didn't try to drink it again for another hour.

So what was she worried about? I mean, the time I melted craft sponges in her food processor trying to make stuffing for a pillow was still 3 or 4 years away. And the time I cut half the fur off the tip of our dog's tail was easily 4 years behind us. Really, what did she think would happen leaving me home alone with a new pair of foldy scissors and a sleeping basset hound? How she thought my dad managed it while pushing her shopping cart, as I told her, I'll never know.

Anyway, I don't know why she left this note.

Still, I love my mama.

Creature of Habit

2009-01-31T11:52:00.016-06:00

On Tuesday, Rocky went nuts-O as I pulled on my jeans to go to class. Kinda cute at first, and then I had a moment of unfortunate self-discovery: I have managed to classically condition my dog to recognize that pants = leaving; no pants = home.

Of course, this wasn't much of a surprise. I have known for a long time that as soon as I come through the door, I shed clothes with the intensity of a Husky's fur in June, with shoes and belt being the first to go. (When I worked in DC, it was pantyhose.) This is not to say that these items would be left by the front door. On the contrary, many mornings, then and now, have been spent trying to track down said items because the night before, I would come home, get caught up doing something, realize I'd be much more comfortable without the belt/pantyhose/socks/pants, remove the offending item(s) and leave them right where I took them off. Of course, when I needed to put them on again (usually as I was running late for work or school the next day), I could never remember where I left them and would spend a few frantic minutes scrambling around the house trying to locate them.

Last week, I reached a new low of losing my favorite bra for a couple days. It turned up in my workout room (which says a lot about how much time I spend in there). My scanner is in that room, and I took the thing off while I was scanning a chapter to post online for a class I teach. (Really, nothing sucks the joy out of scanning documents like a harness of female oppression.)

Further evidence of my mindlessness in the home was the time I lost the TV remote in the refrigerator for a day. I went to the fridge with the remote in one hand and opened the door with the other. Needing a free hand to grab the grub, I simply put the remote down on the shelf rather than letting go of the door.

Oy.

Anyway, sometime between last fall and this month, my chronic belt-losing (usual suspect/locations: kitchen table, end table, computer room, master bathroom) evolved into pants-losing (usual locations: guest bathroom, under the coffee table). Since school started up again, my pants tend to be under the coffee table most.

Socks never used to present the same kind of problem because (a) I have lots of them, and (b) I tend to leave them in the exact same place: under my computer desk. When I run out of socks, I go fish them out from among the cords and wires and throw them in the wash. This, too has changed. I've begun finding them smashed between/under the couch cushions. Why? Because I sleep on the couch most nights and kick my socks off while snuggled under my blankie.

As if being a whirling dervish of clothes shedding weren't bad enough, Rocky's response to my putting on of pants alerted me to the concentration of shed clothing in and around the couch. This, coupled with the multi-day abandonment of my bra in the workout room is just a little too much for me to accept.

In my defense, in lieu of exercise and online activity, I have been super gung-ho about school for the first time since, well, undergrad (this is a HUGE deal).

Read: There is still a chance that I'm not a total loser, right? RIGHT?!?!

Oh Hip Hop Abs

2009-01-19T10:17:00.013-06:00

I've been MIA because I was taking a class over winter session -- it was so awesome, I often stayed up until 4 and 5 in the morning because I didn't want to put the work down. I know! I know! This is good news because it renews my desire to be here and reminds me what this whole academic endeavor can and should be: liberating and life-enriching.

AM Yoga -- Standing poses.
Time: 20:00

I've decided to start my weekdays with yoga to wake up and get energized. I like it. Also, it was a little easier to sit with my knees folded today.

Hip Hop Abs -- Ab Sculpt 2
Time: 35:00

Okay, so I found this on the cheap online (5 bones, including shipping). I found it moved a little too slow for me, the music was lame, and I found Shawn T the instructor man neither motivating nor entertaining -- all of which is remedied with a touch of the mute button and my own tunes. It meant I wasn't totally in sync (*NSync?!) with the video, but I got to go at my own pace (faster), so I ultimately got a better workout. I primarily used the video for structure, though the floorwork did burn a little, and I did feel this in my upper back and thighs. I'd say this is probably a beginner-plus/intermediate level workout, and definitely not worth paying full price (I'm even a little annoyed at the couple bucks I paid for it.) Also, if you are at all funkily inclined you'll find this choreography not all that funky, not much of a challenge, and in some places awkwardly put together with transitions that do not necessarily flow. On the plus side, you don't have to waste a lot of time trying to learn the moves.

Distance: 2.4 miles
Time: 45:00

I've decided that my home treadmill will only be used for walking. I'll give running a try on the treadmill at the rec center tomorrow morning, and if that doesn't work (read: my knee puts up a fuss), I will hang up the running shoes in favor of non-impact activities like swimming and biking through the winter.

And now...

Treadmill: 2; Endorphin Machine: 0

2009-01-06T11:49:00.008-06:00

Mini Workout -- Running
Time: 7:00

Was in a time-crunch before class, but still wanted to get something in. (Note to self: staying up past 3am is not a good way to get a lot done in the morning.) On the plus side: my knee feels a *little* better.

8-Week Treadmill Plan: Day 2
Time: 30:00
Distance: 1.81 mi

Okay, this time it wasn't my will, but my knees. Eff this. I will try this at the rec center (I've been using my treadmill at home). First, I'll try the intervals, then straight running (but slower), and if it's still a crapfest, I'll just walk through the winter. So that's in limbo for now.

Endorphin Machine vs. Treadmill, Episode 1

2009-01-06T10:57:00.004-06:00

Yesterday:

AM Yoga -- Standing poses.
Time: 20:00

Might need to see a doc about my knee. It hurts to sit with it folded completely, both underneath me and indian-style. On the plus side, it worked wonders on my been-sleeping-on-the-couch-too-long back. I felt energized and ready to face my day! But not the treadmill (see below).

8 Weeks to 8:30-miles: Day One
Walk easy 30:00

I seriously need to find a way to change my attitude about the damn treadmill. I was supposed to do run/walk intervals yesterday and walk easy today. It pains my soul to run on the treadmill, even for a minute at a time! So I switched them.

Of course, this means I will have to face it today. With a vengeance or something. Oy.

Trading Da Clubb for Da Tubb

2008-12-31T22:39:00.000-06:00

Somehow my sleep schedule got messed up enough that, in tandem with a touch of the hermits, I decided to spend New Year's in the tub with some tunes and a glass of wine. In some respects, this mode of celebration and playlist were inspired by this Babyface video (also, this is my favorite version of this song and I have yet to find it sans video).

I'll post all my biggest plans for 2009 in the coming days.

This Time I Mean It

2008-12-25T00:23:00.008-06:00

*exhales*

I seriously hated that last "upgrade" but needed some kind of change. I think this is probably closer to who I am. Meh, I'll stick with it for now. I'm not totally convinced about that little Powerpuff Girl, but I spent a long time changing her dress and eyes to match the color scheme. Yes, I am aware that the blond one already matched, but Buttercup is the tough one, so that settles that.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

A New New Leaf

2008-12-21T19:18:00.002-06:00

*rubs eyes*

Who turned on the lights?

Maybe it's because I've been watching too much Intervention, but after the hellish week I had last week (in which I worked my ass off and still turned in one steaming pile of crap after another) and a generally ~~underwhelming~~ embarrassing semester altogether, something's gotta give.

I remember when I used to be good at things. Like, really good at things. And I used to LOVE school. And I used to blog regularly. What the hell happened?

I honestly don't know. But here's what I'm going to do about it:

Endorphin therapy.

Now that the 140.6 monkey is off my back, I'm going to work my way back up from the shorter distances and get faster. Some call it "training." I call it "what you're supposed to do instead of showing up on race day, undertrained, and hoping for the best."

But really, I'm in it for the side-effects: more energy and ability to focus. I think that'll fix a lot of other stuff that's been dragging in my life.

Stay tuned!

Made in the 70s

2008-12-21T10:45:00.008-06:00

After spending 18 hours at my computer every day last week, my body is in desperate need of a boogie-down.

Yes, I missed my own birthday.

I had a disco CD in my collection during my freshman year of college. Every time I finished a test or some other "big" assignment, I'd come home and dance around my dorm room for about half an hour. So yeah, I think I might be hard-wired for this sort of thing.

Side note: I think "Boogie Shoes" might be one of my favorite songs of all time, not just this genre.

Not promising anything, but today might be a two-fer. Stay tuned.

Two Years Running

2008-12-18T00:00:00.000-06:00

Elementary school: I was disappointed that winter break started before my birthday.

Grad school: What's a girl gotta do to get winter break to start before her birthday?!?!

Paper Writing Season Ends Friday

2008-12-17T11:53:00.004-06:00

Be back soon!

This Helps Me Work

2008-12-09T08:56:00.002-06:00

How is it possible that I still don't own this movie?

And seriously, when IS this guy gonna get the picture?

Shake Your Rump

2008-12-08T01:44:00.004-06:00

This week there was a LOT of Facebook activity with some high school peeps. I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised that the Sunday throwdown landed here despite my initial disco intentions. (Stay tuned for that one, though.)

Of course, I spent so much time on this mix that I am just going to post it and go straight to bed now that it's done.

It will be a Movin' Groovin' Monday morning for me instead.

Freakazoids...Please Report to the Kitchen Floor

2008-11-28T21:42:00.006-06:00

Well crud. I meant to wait 'til Sunday for my solo kitchen dance party, but then the rhythm got me and made me shake my booty two days early.

Eh, I blame it on the boogie.

Total time: 44:44.

Darling Nikki's the cool down...

The Guts to Be Grateful

2008-11-27T09:22:00.006-06:00

For as long as I have this blog, I think I will always post Ten Things on Thanksgiving. Here goes:

I am thankful for…

My Mamar being the gutsiest broad I know. And my Daddy, for being an honorary gutsy broad. And for both of them passing down their inner ass-kicker genes.

Reconnecting with friends from childhood this year and gaining a sense of rootedness and being from somewhere that I don't think I have ever felt (I’m an only child who's moved 23 times since I turned 18…call your siblings.)

The opportunity to coach for Girls on the Run this year, and give back to the sport.

All the supportive words and thoughts that got me over the finish line at Ironman Louisville this year.

My childhood friends, Scott and Ana, for hosting/caring/cheering for me as I completed my first marathon last December.

Having a body that allows me to participate in sports (a mind to rhyme and two hype feet).

Having the money to participate in this ridiculously expensive hobby.

Still having Rocky with me to nuzzle and humor me through impromptu solo dance parties in the kitchen. (I miss you, Bootsie and Dinah!)

The group that I play ultimate with being patient and laid back enough to make me feel welcome on the field.

You.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

What Happens in the Kitchen...

2008-11-23T22:29:00.001-06:00

...gets posted on the blog.

It started innocently enough as music to cook by but quickly degenerated into a full-body boogie-down...with my dog. Well, he was a good sport for about half a song and then took off. Eh, it was fun while it lasted. Maybe it's just because this is my first day back after two weeks with the flu, but I've decided to incorporate a Sunday night kitchen dance party into my weekly routine. Here's the playlist from the inaugural throwdown. To be clear, TLC is the cool-down.

I'm such a nerd.

Total time: 40:40

Country-Fried Introspection

2008-11-20T09:19:00.004-06:00

Methinks I am just exactly where I need to be.

Dance Biscuit

2008-11-18T10:20:00.007-06:00

Watch, then I'll comment.

1) I don't know how or why, but this makes me like (respect?) Justin Timberlake a little bit more.
2) I am currently on a mission to incorporate "dance biscuit" into my everyday vocabulary.

Usage:
"Oh man, the girl in the video below totally drops a dance biscuit."
"The girl in this video IS a total dance biscuit.

Watch to the end...SO worth it.

Yes, I'm going to be like this until I'm well enough to work out again.

One Flu Over the Cuckoo's Nest

2008-11-16T10:57:00.018-06:00

I've been out with the flu for the last week. Still not 100%, but at least my body temp has returned to normal (I hovered around 96 the last couple days) as have my appetite and sense of smell.

I've heard about certain smells evoking memories, and last night as my own sense of smell returned, a cup of tea propelled me back to my college days. For me, "sleepy time" tea (and its equivalents) equals December 1994; orange spice, December 1996. I guess one of the cool things about having moved around a lot is that when a smell (or a song) transports me to another time, I also get to go on a little daytrip to a specific and special place.

"Sleepy Time" Tea: Dec 1994 -- Sonoma State University, CA
I lived in a quiet part of California's wine country and was completing my last semester at SSU (I was about to transfer to the 2nd of four schools I attended for undergrad). Sleepy tea reminds me of walking to my 7:45am English class as well as falling asleep in my Monday night Theater class. Seriously, who takes sleepy tea with them to class?!

Orange Spice Tea: Dec 1996 -- Seattle, WA
Orange Spice tea reminds me of my second visit to Seattle (I had gone earlier that summer), a couple years before I moved there. I was spending the holidays with the Love of My Life. I managed to come down with the flu on the plane -- and ruptured my eardrum on the landing.

Within the first couple days, we met up with his folks in downtown Seattle to see Singin' in the Rain. I just remember being very cold and miserable because I was sick, but somehow ending up after a long walk at Westlake Center (which is why I chose a pic of the Clock Walk over one of the Space Needle) and feeling really really bad for the horses that were being made to drag carriages behind them.

I also remember there was an engagement party for one of his college friends (that marriage was doomed from the start). I went to bed early because I was sick, but I do remember hearing something about one of the boys (Mossy?) making out (or trying to) with the bride-to-be's mother while the others (The Cray, Wewer, and maybe Garske) were hiding in the bushes/behind a car... can you believe these guys are 7-10 years older than me?!

I think that New Year's someone else in the group threw a disco party. I managed to find an AWESOME Phyllis/Rhoda dress at Goodwill. (Oh how I wish I still had that thing!) I've got it on good authority that there is a picture of me in it still floating around...

There was also a wicked snowstorm that year that derailed Joe's Miata, I went toe-to-toe with Moosie at World Wraps, spent a quiet evening in for my 21st birthday with a very tasty coconut cake but celebrated later at Moon China (oh that almond chicken!), didn't get carded when I eventually ordered my first legal drink at an Irish pub (rats!), collapsed in a heap from the flu at Christmas, and eventually went home early because my dad was lonely for my mom who was in the Philippines.

Yeah. ALL of that popped in my head when I got the first whiff of my orange spice tea.

Typos Rick!

2008-11-08T07:58:00.001-06:00

Some of you know how much I like the phrase "what the crap?"

Today it came out like this:

"What the carp?!"

Thus, my new favorite phrase was born.

Then I found this:

Seriously. What the mother carp?!

A Guest Post

2008-11-07T09:54:00.003-06:00

My friend Sara sent this in an e-mail to all her friends with the preface "If I had a blog I'd post this on it, but I don't."

So I'm lending her my space.

Obama Wins
by Sara K.

I feel obliged to write my account of the events for history’s sake. Other things I’ve witnessed that I should have or did write down, they would be the WTO march in Seattle and Sept 11.

I’d been obsessively following the polls for weeks so I was pretty confident Obama would win. It’s not like I was surprised he did.

The couple of days leading up to the election and particularly the day of, I had thoughts of “I’ve got to stay alive to see this.” I took care crossing the street, making sure I’d live long enough to cast my vote.

Sandro and I cast our votes during lunch time, waiting an hour in line, during which time we realized our neighbors are mostly white and look like cool artsy Marin people. The mood in line was light hearted but serious. In line I prayed for peace and safety, and reminded myself that being born in 1912, my grandma Ruth was born before women had suffrage rights. A friend later told me of a friend, a Latino, who cried in the ballot box as he cast his vote. I checked and rechecked that I’d darkened the circle right next to Obama/Biden, and Sandro later told me he cast the vote for Obama, and then pulled the sheet out to make sure it was marked next to #10, as it was supposed to be. I guess if I had a better grasp of technology and spacial relations I would have pulled the sheet out too, rather than just staring at the dark circle I’d filled out.

And then once I cast it, and left early from work at 3:30, in order to go home and start preparing my thyme, lemon zest and polenta dish for my dinner party, and I took the bus home, I had my normal thoughts as I get off the bus. Look around, to make sure a captor can’t seize me. There comes a car approaching and stopping near me, is he stopping, or is he going to shove me in his car, where I’ll be unseen behind black out windows? (Yes, now I’ve revealed to you what a psycho I am and/or what fearful times we live in that such thoughts should cross my mind. This life as a woman). As I glanced at all the men on the street and kept my wits about me, I thought, at least I’ve voted, but now if I can just stay alive to see it.

I made it home, needless to say, and started cooking and watching TV. I had planned for weeks to make arugula salad, in a nod to one mini scandal where when Obama said he liked arugula, his detractors said that was an example of how out of touch and elitist he is.

My guests came. One of my favorites was a family friend, a woman in her 50s. She showed up with three bottles of champagne. I ended up drinking champagne with her all night, but was able to use enough restraint not to get shnockered. Being with her reminded me of parties with my mom and her friends, her reactions and comments were of a woman who lived through the 60s and is full of giddy disbelief.

It was kind of a whirlwind cuz I was cooking. (Order pizza next time?) All my obsessive research had said to watch for Indiana, if Indiana went Obama, it was over for McCain. So, funny that Indiana was one of the states not to get decided that night, and there I was looking for it as an early indicator. But I remember it being significant when Virginia came in for Obama. Me and my neighbor were screaming “Virginia!” I can’t even remember when Florida got called. That shows you what a different night it was from the past two elections, where we’ve all hung on Florida in the past, this time it was more like “Oh yeah, and Florida too.”

At 7:30 Pacific Time we were all eating my meal. The group included gays, a lesbian, immigrants, children of immigrants, and champagne drinking WASPS. This is my California, my life.

Suddenly at 8, like a freight train, the election was called. All my research had me predicting it would be called by 7:30 or 8. But it still seemed like a surprise. I hugged my champagne buddy, as we heard a cork pop of Sandro opening another, and I had a long embrace with my gay neighbor. Then I hugged Sandro. The neighbor was one of my best memories of the night. He wept. He didn’t even care that the gay marriage ban passed, saying “This is why we have to keep wearing assless chaps”.

I wanted to cry, but didn’t really have any tears. I got more emotional when Obama was nominated at his convention. I cried when he came out on the stage, followed by Biden, to see the Black man out front, and the White man in the number two position.

I regretted that I couldn’t have this event reported to me by Dan Rather. It seems like the only requirement to be a newscaster now days is to be a white male who isn’t balding. They are all so sanitized. Not like Dan during the 2000 Florida squeaker saying “This race is tighter than a swim suit in the back of a hot car on the way home from the lake” or, “Al Gore is madder than a snapping turtle!” The one moment that may seem trite but was special was the newscaster showed a poster like the kind on a fourth grade classroom wall, and how all the photos heretofore were white males. And there was Obama’s smiling face last in line. And now this will be the new normal.

Leading up to the election, I’d noticed Blacks at my work didn’t act too excited or didn’t want to talk about it too much. I think they were steeling themselves. My neighbor said a Black friend opened up to him that they were all too scared. His friend is from Virginia.

McCain conceded rather quickly, and I was thinking wickedly how now Sarah can go home and raise that baby.

Obama’s speech was sparkling, earnest and hopeful. We all watched, trying to ignore Enzo doing flips off the couch.

At work the next day, I took a coffee break with a White friend, when we were outside on the street we walked by a Black co-worker, she said “Power to the People!” and we each gave each other the black pride fist. A black woman we didn’t know on the street spontaneously gave the fist too, she thought the sister was talking to her, rather than two white people.

I read dozens of articles looking for the words, and found these: The day shimmered with history.

The Guts to Be Civil

2008-11-05T09:37:00.007-06:00

Facebook Status Update, November 4, 12:10pm
Kristina is thinking about her friends in CA...hoping for a resounding NO on 8.

Jason wrote at 2:48pm
Krissy, I saw you post on my facebook page about prop 8 and I saw one of your friends state that people who are for prop 8 are ignorant. It is concerning to me to see this kind of stuff. Marriage is (I am sorry to say it) a christian institution and has always been defined by the wast majority of the church as a union between a man and a woman. All... Read More religious traditions like muslims, buddhists, Jews, etc. have always understood it this way. Marriage is a theological concept not a political one. If one is going to play the "equality for all" card in marriage, this will lead down a very slippery slope. What I mean is, if marriage can be redefined a two concenting adults, it is not a huge leap that it could be defined as three concenting adults or four and this will open the door to polygamists. Hey, if it is truly equality for all then why can't an adult and a child marry or a human and an animal. One must discriminate at some point, where do we draw that line?

Kristina wrote November 4 at 5:14pm
Jason,
Thanks for taking the time to write – I know your faith is important to you and it is unfortunate that our political passions sometimes lead us to name-calling. It is clear that neither of us will change the other’s mind about Prop 8, but I do want to take the time to respond to some of the points you made in your post.

The heart of your argument seems to be based on marriage being a Christian institution and that it is a theological concept, not a political one (though you go on to cite a series of non-Christian faiths, including Buddhism which considers marriage to be a secular issue). I would be willing to accept this except for the fact that in California (and the rest of the nation), marriage has _legal_ status – which makes it a political issue. The original DOMA was declared unconstitutional for good reason – it did not provide equal protection under the law. Simply changing the constitution to make an exception to afford this legal status to certain segments of the population and not others solely based on gender does not solve the equal protection problem.

As for the slippery slope (the one you say will lead to polygamy and child marriages)…first of all, polygamy/multiple marriage is illegal (despite its presumption of heterosexuality), so the numbers game is not on the table. Changing the sexes of those involved is not affected by the intent of this law.

Second, one legal aspect of marriage is its treatment as a contract under the law. Contracts are based on free choice and legally, children lack the capacity to contract without parent/guardian consent. The legal marrying age in all states is 18, 16 with parental consent (in most states), and New Hampshire allows marriage at 14 with both parental and judicial consent. Gender does not affect one’s mental capacity to enter into contracts.

Long story short: the web of laws defining what “counts” as marriage as we know it (two adults, presumably in some sort of romantic relationship) will not unravel simply by allowing those two adults to be of the same sex.
That being said, I venture to assume that the reason you object is because your faith does not condone homosexuality and the arguments you put forth come from that deep-seated belief. While I may disagree, I respect your right to believe what you want. But I’d like to remind you that it was only 41 years ago that the Supreme Court struck down anti-miscegenation laws that would not have allowed you to marry your wife, or my father to marry my mother because bride and groom are of different races. My parents are still happily married, and by the looks of your facebook pics, your family is also going strong. Can you imagine being legally deprived of that?

Anyway, I am certain you will not agree with me or change your mind, but I wanted to engage in the conversation with the same level of civility and care you afforded me. I hope I succeeded in addressing your comments with respect, if nothing else.

Krissy

Jason wrote November 4 at 6:29pm
Krissy,
Thanks for the reply. I do see name calling on both sides as unfortunate and especially the infamous catch-all "ignorant" word. People use it for just about anybody that they disagree with these days. You are right, I am approaching this from a religious perspective as since I am a Pastor, I see things from that vantage point. Also, if gay marriage is allowed, it would not be the end of the world. On my personal moral importance grade from 1 to 10 with 10 being the most important, it is about a two. I do not think gay marriage is an outrage, it is just kinda silly. I see it like I would see atheists who demand the "right" to be baptised. Why would they want to be? Baptism is a ritual that is between a person and their commitment to God and Jesus Christ. If you do not believe that God even exists, what is the point? I guess if some atheists wanted to baptize each other as some commitment to atheism, I would not object. But it would still be strange. There are homosexuals who take such a view on marriage. They do not want to be married because they understand the implications of what that ritual means.
Although, I do see what you are saying about the civil side of it and if gay couples are denied any civil rights that hetero couple have I would be the first to want equality in that sphere.
Anyway, I could go on but I gotta go and probably should stop. I hope all is well with you. Keep in touch.

Grammar Nerdom...For Dummies

2008-11-03T15:28:00.005-06:00

Or...what happens when it's a ridiculously nice day, you take a 3-mile hit of endorphins, and then start cruising the Internet for blog fodder.

Feeding My Inner Taoist

2008-11-01T16:05:00.004-05:00

Iowa Today: Sunny 66° F
Ultimate Frisbee: 2 hours
Me: Blissfully happy.

Tomorrow: Bike ride with Jen to Hills. Which is flat.

No, I don't get it either.

From Bad to Worse: 1990 Strikes Again

2008-10-28T22:07:00.006-05:00

When you start reconnecting with people from your hometown on Facebook there will eventually be a group created around your shared past.

Enter the group "I'm from Fairfield, Biatch!"

Okay, I clearly occupy a position where I think including "Biatch!" in any utterance is meant to be ironic and playful. But imagine my chagrin when I visited the group page and discovered, based on the wall posts, that they were saying it with a straight face.

This video was on the group's page. It is simultaneously laughable, horrifying, and a slice of nostalgia.

I should also say that although this thuggy element was present when I was growing up there, I was relatively insulated from it. Except the one day in Spanish when the kid behind me showed me his gun...and the other time when the Fairfield PD drew their guns on a car full of kids in the school parking lot. At lunch. With half the school flocking to see someone get shot.

But this isn't even why I refuse to join the group. (Okay, it's kind of a big part of it.) My "real" objection is to the part of the group's description that says "you have parents that say 'hella.'" PARENTS.

(btw: I *luv* that there are multiple academic studies on the origins and spread of the term)

Lemme say that at 32, I'm under no illusions that I'm old. I will add to that my complete understanding that there are those who have children at a young age, and that is also perfectly fine by me. But the part where there were enough Facebook-aged people from Fairfield who have parents who say "hella" to form an entire group around it?

That's hella weak.

One Gutsy Post

2008-10-26T22:58:00.004-05:00

It's not mine, but it's oh so good. Check it out: Size-Adventurer

What Happens in 1990...

2008-10-24T15:33:00.001-05:00

...should not be brought up as a way to look hip and with-it to your students.
My friend Jessica recently posted a horrific tale of encountering a person born in 1990. Methinks the only thing more horrifying than Jessica's tale might be having to teach a lesson about popular music to a room full of people born between 1987-1990 -- which is what I did every night this week.

*crickets chirping*

To say I felt old is an understatement. At one point, I mentioned that a group came on the scene in 1997 and one of them said, "Wow, that's like ancient history." To my face!!!

The was one brief, shining moment when one especially baby-faced one responded to Jazzy Jeff & Fresh Prince's Summertime with "That's like what I do back home." If he was mocking me, I wasn't willing to see it.

Which brings me to the...

You Had to Be There (And Not Embryonic) Playlist

Poison
Bell Biv Devoe

Funky Enough
The D.O.C.

Freaks of the Industry
Digital Underground

Feels Good
Tony Toni Tone

Turn This Mutha Out
MC Hammer

Joy & Pain
Rob Base and DJ EZ Rock

Gyrlz They Love Me
Heavy D and the Boyz

Me, Myself, and I
De La Soul

Thieves in the Temple
Prince

Miss You Much
Janet Jackson

Hold On
En Vogue

Giving You the Benefit
Pebbles

For the record, I'm not saying all this stuff is any good, but sometimes you just need to take a quenching drink of "I like being my age."

Sometimes You Get Kicked

2008-10-12T18:17:00.004-05:00

Sometimes you have to kick your inner ass-kicker's ass.

(Reflections on today's sooper-dooper bike ride HERE.)

I set these grand-tastic goals two weeks ago and then let the rest of my life kick it all to the curb. Yes, I said LET. I'll own it. I dunno, it's like I got all fired up to do stuff and then immediately packed my bags for Slack-ass-ville.

All around me, really schweet stuff is going on. A student of mine ran his first marathon in Chicago today. Another friend did his first marathon in Baltimore yesterday. Still another is kicking ass-k left and right on her goals (yes, I'm talking about you, Jen) and it's really inspiring to have all these peeps around me making progress on all the schweet-ass stuff they set out to do.

So what about me? I think a symptom of whatever is going on here is the fact that I skipped most of what was in my iPod in yesterday's race. *shrugs* If the music's stale, then the drive can't be much better.

So I'm narrowing my focus onto the Girls on the Run 5K in six weeks and nixing an intermediary race I had originally scheduled two weeks from now. Oh yeah, and cleaning up the old iPod along the way. I mean, the Cool J and Marky Mark have been in heavy rotation for almost three years. I love them, but it's clearly time. (Stay tuned for a new playlist sometime this week.)

I should also remind myself that it is midterm time, and this feeling of being pulled in so many directions that I can't do anything very well will pass...especially if I get into a training groove. (Oh endorphins...is there anything you can't do?)

Stay tuned.

Indian Summer Classic: A Bitter-schweet Symphony

2008-10-11T16:54:00.003-05:00

Did the race today...

Overall, it was a great day. My training buddy, Jen, had an awesome day -- exceeding her goal for the day. Mine was medium. I made some errors, not the least of which was going out WAY. TOO. FAST. None of this ruined my day, but it did make for a somewhat anti-climactic first race back after Ironman. Of course, the root error was not training consistently (big surprise). I think I'll finally be able to get into a groove re: school/training scheduling this week. You know, just in time for midterms.

Anyway, here's the rundown of the day:

Bitter: Staying up past midnight making a mix CD for the ride.
Schweet: Jen stayed up past midnight doing the same thing.

Bitter: Jen's CD player wouldn't read either of the independently-created CDs we both stayed up way too late making.
Schweet: THE WEATHER!!! A clear, Indian summer morning on Lake MacBride -- the widest possible spectrum of fall colors!

Bitter: 10:18/miles with more than a few walk breaks
Schweet: Motivation to work harder these next six weeks to the Girls on the Run 5K.

Bitter: Crashed HARD for 2 hours when I got home.
Schweet: Having the universe plop a super duper magna fantastic training partner into my lap -- in a way that is usually what ends such partnerships. *cryptic* Maybe I'll tell that story another time.

And the grand finale: previewing the bike ride we'll take tomorrow -- have I mentioned before how beautiful Iowa is? I friggin' LOVE living here!

Racing!

2008-10-10T18:21:00.003-05:00

I have to admit, this (like my pre-Iron posts) is just to get me fired up for my race tomorrow. I mentioned in my training log that I am reluctant to post goals before a race, but it's kind of a novelty for me to actually have goals that move beyond simply covering the distance. It's kind of exciting! I like it!

Even though I haven't gotten into a training groove, I still would like to push my pace. Nothing too crazy -- I'd be happy with a sub-9:30 pace. (Who'da thunk I'd say those two things in the same sentence?!)

Yee HAW! Nervous and excited for tomorrow! I'll run hard!

Dream Girl

2008-10-10T11:34:00.008-05:00

I dreamed of Dinah two nights ago, and I was very happy for the visit. In the dream, she just sort of trotted around this corner and came running to me...but I woke up or something happened before I got to pet her. I remember saying in the dream, "Hey, there's Dinah!" and feeling like she wasn't really gone after all. But there she was, exactly as cute and happy as I remember.

Strangely, when I woke up I was only a little disappointed that it was only a dream. I mean, of course I'd love to have her back. When I was still raw and in the denial stage, I wished for there to be some kind of magical way for her to come back to me, but I'd have to keep it a secret from the rest of the world, like in some sort of dark comedy. You can imagine my ~~breakdown~~ tearful reaction to the pilot for Pushing Daisies, right? (Seriously, I would have made that deal.) But somehow waking up from that dream made me feel happy to have gotten to see her again, even briefly.

At the risk of sounding completely insane, I will say that I think our furry friends visit in dreams after they pass. I'm fairly certain that our one dog, Bubba, visited Boots almost every night in her dreams to play with her. She adored him, and went into a deep, deep depression after he died. (I can't think of anything more tragi-comic than a depressed Basset Hound.) Boots would frequently run and bark in her sleep -- I can only imagine that she was dreaming of playing with Bubba.

Anyway, I'm missing Dinah and Bootsie terribly again/still.

Time to put on some sunglasses and go for a run.

It's Official!

2008-09-30T15:15:00.004-05:00

...because online quizzes never lie.

What female superhero are you???

Wonder Woman!

You're an original. A champion of justice and able to keep up with the best of male superheros, you attribute your power to amazonian origins. You`re a powerful, independent woman, and you`re not afraid to show it.

Click Here to Take This Quiz

Tunes for Tuesday

2008-09-30T09:23:00.015-05:00

Now that I am embracing my inner superheroine, I clearly need a soundtrack. This started off as a serious list, but what I ended up finding turned this into, well, something else. (Also, I really wanted to avoid overlap with my previous lists, so you'll probably note the absence of other Grrrl Power faves like No Doubt's Just a Girl, and any number of other Christina/Britney hits.)

Keeps Getting Better
Christina Aguilera

I think these lyrics pretty much require me to make this my new personal theme song:

Some days I'm a super girl out to save the world and it keeps getting better

One Girl Revolution
Superchick

Okay, this is what it is, but the themes under the bubblegum aesthetic do what the Bangles and Bananarama (and the Go-Gos) could've done for me and my Gen X chicas. Meh.

Rock What You Got
Superchick

It's On
Superchick

Me Against the World
Superchick

Ain't Nothin' but a She Thing
Nobody's Angel

Supergirl!
Krystal Harris

Watch Me Shine
Joanna Pacitti

And now the Close, But No Cigar Awards (here's where things go awry):

When this was going to be super-superhero-y, Batdance seemed like a logical place to go, but check out the Batgirl Theme and lyrics. This is awful on so many levels, not the least of which is auditory. But I like the idea of asking a superhero if she is a "chick who fell in from outer space" and if she isn't, then the logical alternative is that she might be "real with a tender warm embrace."

People ask me this all the time (the outer space part); maybe it's a sign that my inner superhero is shining through.

Batgirrrl, Batgirl! Batgirrrl, Batgirl!
Where do you come from, where do you go?
What is your scene, baby, we just gotta know.
Batgirrrl, Batgirl! Batgirrrl, Batgirl!
Are you a chick who fell in from outer space?
Or are you real with a tender warm embrace?
Yaaa, whose baby are you? Batgirrrl, Batgirl!
Yaaa, whose baby are you? Batgirl!

Wonder Woman Theme
For obvious reasons, I wanted to include this in the "serious," kickass list despite the background vocals being shrill and annoying. But the lyrics "in your satin tights, fighting for your rights" relegated this to the silly bin.

Sometimes it Takes Balls to be a Woman
Elizabeth Cook

Excerpt:
Sometimes it takes balls to be a woman Standing up to a test, while wearing a party dress Sometimes looks can be deceiving when you¹re quietly over-achieving Oh, sometimes it takes balls to be a woman He says I should repent for the money I spent on shoes and bags and jewelry Well To hell with that, my hard working ass ain't gonna sit before a jury Now isn't that a mighty small price to pay For all the love I send your way Honey when it comes down to the plumbin' Sometimes it takes balls to be a woman

A. I shoulda known this was a country song from the title alone.
B. This is from an album called simply, "Balls."
C. Rhyming "plumbin'" with "woman" -- now THAT'S artistry.

And that's when I had to give up the search.

Girl, Why You Trippin'?

2008-09-16T12:17:00.004-05:00

Here's footage of my Ironman finish -- and they even got the part where I almost fall on my face. AWESOME!

Also, I love how the music and editing make it seem like all of us were out there for some kind of leisurely fun ride -- or out chasing Duke Boys.

IMKY '08 Part 1: Broad Strokes

2008-09-04T11:26:00.000-05:00

I have to admit, there is a part of me that wants to document every single moment of this day. But the part of me with the stronger voice prefers to prefers to paint in broader strokes, focusing on the things I want to stay with me and in the foreground of my memory of this event. Of course, I have PLENTY to say about this, so I will wax philosophical on all those topics in separate posts in the coming days. But for now:

Ironman Louisville 2008 in Five ~~Easy~~ M.F. Hard-Ass Pieces

1. Play of the Day: Sharing the Start Line with TriBloggers!
I can't express how wonderful and peaceful it was to have Kim and Mary at the start line. I'm fairly certain that if they weren't there, I'd have thrown up or otherwise talked myself into some sort of pit of despair.

These two are such wonderful, spirited women with great outlooks on sport and life. I'm so grateful to have met them and to have seen them out on the run course -- my own spirits buoyed every time I saw them.

That, and Mary's title and caption for this pic pretty much nail it.

2. Swim Kicker
According to my friend, Mary Beth, I left 883 people behind me on the swim. I am a mid-pack swimmer! Woot! The swim itself was actually fairly uneventful: I got punched in the head once, lots of hands on my feet -- nothing out of the ordinary, though I was unprepared for all the butt-grabbing. I can't ever remember that happening in any other race. There was also something very unnerving about swimming in a shipping channel. Like Mary, I had mysterious red spots all over me when I got home. *shudder*

3. Hills and Wind and Heat -- Nemeses No More!!!
Making the bike cutoff under these conditions was a victory in itself. And then the wind picked up on the second loop. Oy. The toughest parts:

Miles 18-28. This section had some of the steepest sustained climbs of the course. An out & back jaunt, it also meant you could really get screaming down those hills. I don't know if it was my mountain biking fearlessness or the quality of my bike, but I flew past a LOT of people on the downhills (maxed out at 40+mph -- I heard pros got up to 50+). There was one crashed cyclist that I saw on the side of the road -- we were all still pretty bunched up at this point in the race, and a lot of people were not placing themselves in the lane safely. I can imagine that she got clipped in the crowd.

Bonked on the 1st Loop. My pack of electrolyte pills bounced out of my bento box sometime in these first 40 miles. Then I let my nutrition get away from me. Then I got really slow and my mood started to sink along with my avg speed (I needed to keep it above 13mph). I remembered reading somewhere that you should pay attention to your mood on the course because it's a sign that you need to take in more calories. This was the only time on the course that I felt bad and like I never wanted to do another Iron-distance race again. Then I ate a gel and guzzled some gatorade and things started looking up.

Acorn Hill. Holy mackerel. This crappy little hill pops up after a tough section in the loop (steeper hills, no shade or breeze). You have NO momentum going into it and even though it's short, it. is. steep. I pedaled up it on the first loop; decided to conserve my energy and walk it on the second loop. Jeebus, that little thing was a monster!

8:23:21 is a LONG time to sit on a bike seat.

4. Running the Numbers
Once I knew I would make the bike cutoff, I pretty much had no plan for the rest of the race. My original goal heading out on the run course was to finish under 17 hours. My legs actually felt good enough to run, but I was having some weird stomach stitches for the first hour, so running was out. I did run for a bit headed toward the "false finish" -- where they run you within yards of the finish line before sending you out for the second lap. And though I knew from Pigman that walking would potentially be more painful than running, I knew I could walk the whole thing and still make the course cutoff. Of course, I ran whenever I saw cameras and for the last point-two because, well, I have my pride. I'd like to think that if there was a hard midnight deadline like other IMs that I would have run enough to make that. I guess I'll know for sure next time. (That's right, I said next time.)

5. The Distance Between Your Ears
There was a point when I was about 5 1/2 miles from the finish and there was a man behind me -- coming the other direction on the out & back -- who was about 6 1/2 miles out from the line. I saw the sweep van pull up beside him. I was too far away to hear, but I knew what conversation they were having. I kept repeating in my head, "Don't get in that van! No, don't do it! You're so close!" I desperately wanted him to keep going, and I really wanted to punch that driver for putting the offer on the table for that guy.

Then the man stopped walking and reached for the door.

I only cried three times on the course. Twice I teared up because I was just so happy to be there and knew that I would finish. But the tears only streamed down my cheeks one time and it was for this man. There is something painfully heartbreaking to witness a person give up.

About an hour later, the van pulled up beside me.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"I feel fine," I said. Then, with perhaps too much force: "Keep driving."

He laughed and drove on.

. . .

Yes, this was a long, painful day. But even just a few days later, I don't really remember so much of the physical discomfort -- though I was definitely a lot more than uncomfortable. What I remember is how high my spirits stayed. I think this is what got me over that finish line. Except for bonking on the first loop of the bike, I smiled BIG for most of the day and almost all of the run.

At the pre-race talk, Lance Watson, a multi-sport coach, told us to treat ourselves well on race day. He'd just come from IM Canada where he saw one dejected face after another. "Don't give up on yourselves," he told us. It was exactly what I needed to hear. I spent the two weeks before crying and beating myself up for not training harder. I had been incrementally giving up on myself every day leading up to the race.

So I smiled instead.

And I never gave up on myself.

And I finished.

And then I tripped three steps after crossing the finish line.

Labor Day

2008-08-31T02:56:00.000-05:00

This is it.

Win or lose. Official finisher or DNF. I will not be broken.

Track my progress here. I am Athlete #813.

In the Land of Ali...and Tanlines

2008-08-30T06:29:00.001-05:00

TThe beauty of being in Muhammad Ali's hometown is that there is a moment on the run -- just one block, just before heading out for the second lap -- where I will run on Muhammad Ali Blvd. What a great way to recharge! (That and the cruel irony of running us within yards of the finish line before sending us out for another 13 miles.) You can bet I'll be tapping into that block-long pool of Go! to get myself to the finish line!

On a completely unrelated note: tans and tanlines.

You can usually tell who the athletes are at these things because not only are they trim and fit, but they also sport some golden skin. A key indicator that I hadn't trained enough last year besides my soft body: I showed up pasty on race day. This year, I not only have a myriad of tanlines on my back from various sport tanks, I also have race numbers emblazoned on my arms from my last race (apparently Marks-A-Lot is SPF 8).

Race numbers: the triathlete's temporary tattoo.

The Groove in My Heart

2008-08-29T19:13:00.000-05:00

I think I listened to this song about 18 Go!-zillion times on the drive here...will probably belt it out on the course, too. (Click the title to hear a sample.)

I Will Survive
Stephanie Bentley

excerpt:

I've gotta be strong
Teardrops no one sees but me
I won't stop, 'cause I'll always believe

I will survive, I will endure
When the goin's rough
You can be sure
I'll tough it out, I won't give in
If I'm knocked down, I'll get up again
As long as my dream's alive
I will survive

. . .

Going for a practice swim with Mary Sunshine tomorrow morning to get a feel for the current. Will take a bath tonight to relax/visualize/meditate...then off to bed.

Peas.

Something More Important Than Courage

2008-08-29T12:44:00.000-05:00

Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of my life.

Road Trip!

2008-08-29T04:26:00.002-05:00

Alrighty -- my dad and I are hitting the road. I will be updating while in Kentucky...stay tuned.

Keep Going

2008-08-27T10:02:00.003-05:00

As the single digits of the race countdown dwindle away, my emotions are all over the road. I have cried a lot this week. Like, A LOT. Yes, I admit that I am scared. And I admit that I am afraid to admit that. I've been thinking that if I voice my fear, it would be like some sort of jinx, or a concession to defeat, or a sign that I just don't want it enough.

And then I got my Triathlete magazine today. Scott Tinley's essay this month was titled "Embracing the Fear." Money quote:

"While athletes know the calming effect of an easy run or a hard swim, fear is a pervasive emotion within most sports. This is not necessarily an unhealthy phenomenon. Sport offers a kind of malleable tension that can both thrill and kill, excite and indict our senses with an anxiety that leaves us somewhere between satiated and starving. ... I'd like to think that sport allows us to mediate our fears based not upon our failures but upon our dreams."

Single digits to race day...here's where the vanity of chasing a dream like this gives way to the One Thing. Yes, I am afraid to fail again. But I am more afraid of not having the guts to stay in it mentally. I am afraid that this fear that I am experiencing now might be my undoing on the course. What will keep me going on race day when my mind and body attempt to talk me out of it?

So I searched for my posts that I labeled "The One Thing." Here's what I came up with:

Stephanie May, reminding me that the feeling of digging down to one's deepest limits is amazing even in defeat -- and ultimately makes the defeat itself something of a misnomer.
From last year: "I think I've found it: Triathlon lets me experience the joys of independence and self-reliance. It also helps me confront my despair at the thought of feeling alone in the world. It lets me know that if I ever were alone in the world -- I can handle it. I can keep pedaling, keep breathing, keep going. I can also find friends on the road who are like-minded and supportive -- strangers who will give me a "Stay strong, Krissy" when I need it most."
From Friday: "Alas, there is nothing more to be done now. All I can do is keep moving, keep pedaling, keep my legs going..."

Then there was this odd rambling about the marathon movie in which I am dismissive of the fact that I completed 26.2 miles on foot -- running every step. "But all I did that day was show up and keep going," I say, as though it were some easy thing. (I don't know what possessed me to write that because I remember that it wasn't until mile 24 or 25 that I knew I would finish.)

Given the theme above, it should come as no surprise that the climax of Hillary Clinton's speech last night made me cry:
"On that path to freedom, Harriet Tubman had one piece of advice: 'If you hear the dogs, keep going. If you see the torches in the woods, keep going. If there’s shouting after you, keep going. Don’t ever stop. Keep going. If you want a taste of freedom, keep going.'"

Clearly, all of this taps into my One Thing.

. . .

So I think I am ready for The Talk:

There are a lot of people whose eyes will be on me. I've told so many people what I'm doing. I want my daddy to see me cross the finish line. I've got a chip on my shoulder from last year. NONE OF THIS MATTERS.

I am KrissyGo! The person I am KEEPS GOING. If I can move, I can move forward. I may walk multiple times on the course, but I will not walk off of it. Not of my own volition. Why? Because I feel most alive, most spiritually awake when I am GOING, EXPERIENCING, setting goals BEYOND MY REACH, chasing those goals, sometimes achieving them, sometimes failing, entering into some endeavor with NO IDEA of what the outcome will be and finding satisfaction in simply having the guts to do anything in the first place, but always ALWAYS present in every moment knowing that I have LIVED my life.

Courage is doing what you are afraid to do. There can be no courage unless you're scared.

~Eddie Rickenbacher

One Last Summer Indulgence

2008-08-24T18:00:00.006-05:00

Good golly, I heart me some Grease 2. It appears that everyone deals with these last days to race day in some strange ways. Apparently mine is to load up on the CHEESE! Exhibit A: last week's Britney-fest. Exhibit B: see clip above.

Anyway, school starts tomorrow, which is the "real" reason for the clip (sure it is).

I'm excited, which is a good sign, even though I've got a pretty full plate this semester. Either way, though, I think I need to band up with some Pink Ladies so we can pledge to act cool, to look cool, and to beeeeeee cool.

Athlete Number 813

2008-08-22T08:57:00.002-05:00

Race numbers were posted today. You can track my progress here on race day.

My facebook friends know that I had a little breakdown last night reading a race report about the bike course. The countdown is in the single digits. This time next week, I will be in Louisville.

I am scared, but determined. Alas, there is nothing more to be done now. All I can do is keep moving, keep pedaling, keep my legs going...until I either cross the finish line or someone pulls me off the course. And that someone will have to be pretty strong, because I will not go quietly. It will be a long, difficult day, and I am ready to face it; I am ready to face myself.

"On the mountains of truth you can never climb in vain: either you will reach a point higher up today, or you will be training your powers so that you will be able to climb higher tomorrow."
~Friedrich Nietzsche

70.3 Despite My Ovaries' Best Efforts (Again)

2008-08-17T19:01:00.022-05:00

As I mentioned with my last race repor t, I am trying a "highlights-only" version of ye olde race report as I have neither the time nor the patience to recount all the minutiae. I figure I've got about five worthwhile things to say about any race, so here it is: the inaugural Five Spot Race Report (it's like a threat down, only race-related).

Five Spot: Pigman Half-Iron Triathlon

1. Play of the Week: MY FIRST SHERPA!

On Friday, Veg*Triathlete Jen called me up and offered to sherpa for me today. "You got it!" I said, even though I wasn't really sure what it meant. Turns out, it means letting the racer blast Britney Spears (playlist forthcoming) and talk a mile a minute at 5am while she burns off nervous energy, and then, when aforementioned racer has a disastrous run, still meets her a mile from the finish to tell her she's her hero and bouys her spirits enough to get her to run the last 100yds to the finish.

2. Inner Swim Kicker (46:19)
With the breeze, I got a taste (I think) of what it might be like to swim upriver for Iron Louie. A little disconcerting; a little sputtering. Hmph. Good thing I get to go with the current after about .8 mile of that. Other than that, not too shabby for swimming a squirrely line and getting swam over for the first time (that didn't even happen at IMAZ!). And, according to Jen, there were plenty of people behind me.

3. Inner Bike Kicker (3:52; avg 14.7 mph)
I was *hoping* for a 4-hour ride. Then there were hills. And a slight headwind. So this really was out-friggin'-standing. That, and the part where I sang My Prerogative OUT LOUD, alternating with "Who rocks the mic? Krissy rocks the mic. And when Krissy rocks the mic, she rocks it all the way down" for the first 30 miles. Oh yeah, I spent my formative years at cheer camp.

4. Inner Run Kicker (3:32 -- walking 16:11/mile)
Oy. A fatal error in T2 meant that not only would I not finish under 7:30 (which was my goal), the potential 7:00-7:15 finish I had set up on the swim and bike also evaporated. Thanks, ovaries. (But also thanks for doing this today and not at Iron Louie.) Let's just say that I forgot to pause for bladder/ovary maintenance before I left T2. Also, the cramps started at Mile 2. And the only portajohn on the course was at Mile 4, which didn't matter anyway, because I didn't procure a tampon until the turnaround. Then another 2.5 miles back to the portapotty. I don't know if you've ever tried to run while cramping and having to pee, but it's pretty much impossible. And this is how I learned that (1) these shoes weren't made for walking (two huge blisters) and (2) my running muscles are definitely MUCH better trained than my walking muscles.

5. What Made Me a Gutsy Broad Today
You know what takes guts? Insisting on walking all the way to the finish even when the sweep vehicle (AKA DFL-Wagon) pulls up behind you at Mile 4 of a half-marathon. Had this exact thing with my ovaries not stopped me from finishing Buffalo Springs 70.3 in 2006, I might have thought seriously about getting in that car and calling it a day.

But I had a bone to pick with both the distance and my ovaries. TAKE THAT BIATCHES!

P.S. So...doubling this distance in two weeks? It's a little unsettling, to put it mildly.

My Heroes Have Always Been Gutsy Gals

2008-08-15T08:52:00.007-05:00

Mary Lou
1984 was my first Olympics and Mary Lou was my first sports hero. It's just that simple.

Nadia
After the '84 Olympics, there was a made-for-TV movie about Nadia that I watched with my parents that introduced me to her. Watching this again with adult eyes, I am more in awe of her than before.

Lynnette Woodard -- The first female Globetrotter (Go to 2:06)
She became the first female Globetrotter when I was in 5th grade and made me want to play basketball, which I did until 7th grade and it became painfully clear that (a) I would be 5"1' forever and (b) soccer was my real love.

Mia Hamm
I think I've mentioned before that anemia spelled the end of sports for me in ninth grade. I have often wondered how my path would have been different if I had been able to continue in sports and/or grew up during Mia Hamm's reign. I don't get weepy over it, though. In place of sports, I veered off into the performing arts. I'm happy with that path, too, but I will always be grateful for the strong foundation sports gave me.

Surrender

2008-08-09T12:13:00.007-05:00

Okay, Universe.

You win.

I've heard you loud and clear.

Thanks for getting my attention.

It's already worth it.

Gutsy Means "With All My Heart"

2008-08-06T12:17:00.002-05:00

I had planned to write about athleticism and elaborate on "gutsiness" this week, but I'm going to postpone that a bit.

Today is Dinah's anniversary.

I don't want to get too morose, but I do want to say this:

Even though losing her was the worst heartbreak I've ever experienced, I know that having loved her that much and making the decision I made was gutsier than any of my impulsive cross-country moves, any of my solo adventures, any of the out-of-control mountain bike descents, rock climbing leaps of faith, or vomit-inducing sprints I've ever made.

I think that even with the pain, giving all of my heart to her was worth it and ultimately the very thing that kept her loss from destroying me completely.

It's been a while since I listened to the song she was named for, but here it is again. Click here to read the backstory.

Dinah by Thelonious Monk

(For some reason, my Firefox is doing weird things with this, but it seems to work okay in Explorer.)

Music Monday 8.04.08

2008-08-04T06:15:00.002-05:00

Some Gems for Beating a Path
At long last, more music! A smattering of what's been in heavy rotation as of late -- no other organizing theme besides that. Links to tracks now go to last.fm thanks mostly to the fact that I couldn't find Endorphinmachine anywhere else and I think it absolutely warrants a listen (so click it up, suckas). Inexplicably, however, Glamorous Life wasn't there in sample form. But really, if you've never heard that one, I weep for your soul.

Feels Good
Tony! Toni! Tone!

Endorphinmachine
Prince

Relating to a Psychopath
Macy Gray

Ruffneck
MC Lyte

Hat 2 Da Back
TLC

Giving You the Benefit
Pebbles

Glamorous Life
Sheila E.

Me, Myself & I
De La Soul

No Diggity
Blackstreet

California Love
Tupac

Hold It Don't Drop It
Jennifer Lopez

Boombastic
Shaggy

Whoa.

2008-08-03T23:12:00.007-05:00

Got an out-of-the-blue e-mail this weekend from Albert, who got us 7th row tickets for Prince 11 yrs ago.

Okay, Universe, what am I missing?

Endorphinmachine

2008-08-03T04:44:00.005-05:00

So a buddy of mine moved away last week and my parting gift (I get a gift for staying?!) was 10 Prince albums in mp3 form. Though I count myself as a fan, I am nothing compared to the super-advocate this guy is (I only ever owned the Purple Rain soundtrack, the Love Symbol album, Diamonds and Pearls, and The Hits/The B-Sides). In any event, I looked forward to exploring the new additions to my library.

Of course, the runner in me immediately zeroed in on a track called Endorphinmachine. (Seriously, click away if you know what's good for you.)

This track kicks so much ass, it's getting a post all to itself. Though it is part of a playlist that is scheduled to be posted tomorrow, I didn't want to risk it getting lost in the shuffle. (Speaking of shuffle, I *might* have listened to this on a loop for the last 2 miles of my long run yesterday.)

Interestingly, this also reminded me of the first Prince-aficionado to cross my path...Kris Selvidge and your triplets (!!!) this one's for you.

Enjoy!!!

Frenchy Was Right

2008-08-02T04:27:00.009-05:00

The only man a girl can count on is her daddy.

A little while back, my parents and I decided that they wouldn't be at my Ironman because it would cost $7000+ to get them here from the Philippines at that time of year. And then I began a search for not simply who I would like to be at my IM finish line, but who would deserve to be there.

Here's the gist of the e-mail I got from my dad last night:

Hey Kiddo,

Read em and weep!!!

ITINERARY AND TICKET INFORMATION
FROM TO
MANILA TAIPEI
TAIPEI LOS ANGELES
==================================
Hanford, CA (HNF) to Ottumwa, IA (OTM)

Despite my desire to present a tuff-girl persona, I am in fact a crier.

You better believe I wept.

(Then I stopped, because how funny is my dad's hair in this picture?)

No Free Passes Between Gutsy Broads

2008-08-01T14:41:00.015-05:00

Yes, this is LOOONG overdue. No excuses besides simply not being in a writing mood. *shrugs* What can I say? It's been a whirlwind month.

In Part Two of the Multi-Sport Athlete Exchange Program (Part One: Dam-to-Dam), Danielle came out to the east side of Iowa and joined me for the Lake Geode Challenge.

It should be obvious by now that recounting the minutiae of race day kinda bores me, and during this race I decided on a truncated form for race reports. HOWEVER, this particular day wound up being one of those turning-point kinds of races, so I actually have something to say about this one.

It was my first tri of the season (I couldn't get to the QC tri for the flood) and the first day back from strep. I was going to treat it like a long training day (I was only looking to finish somewhere close to my average paces without being too miserable and/or collapsing).

And then late on Mile 5 of the 10K run, I entered the race.

The Lake Geode run course is mercilessly hilly. I unapologetically walked all the hills -- until the approach to the Mile 6 sign. Here, I heard the footsteps of the two women approaching. I said to myself, "No free passes," and started to run again. They eventually passed me, but I kept them within reach.

I re-passed them as we approached the finish chute. And then, inexplicably, this gutsy broad re-re-passed in a dead sprint, and of course I gave chase! In the end, I ran out of pavement and lost 2nd place in our age group by one foot.

The irony is that she and I were easily 8th and 9th from last in this race overall. I had no illusions about where we were in the pack, and figured placing/hardware was out of the question. But, dammit, neither one of us was going to let the other get a "free pass" especially not that close to the finish line. And even though I "lost," I am so grateful to that woman -- that gutsy broad -- who made me dig deep and enter that race, if even for the last moments, because she lit a fire in me that I had almost forgotten about. We high-fived on the other side of the line as I gave her heartfelt congratulations. Forget Inner Ass-Kicker, she helped me rediscover my own Inner Gutsy Broad -- who is way tougher, hands down.

When I got home I watched this clip a few times, reveling in my renewed competitive, yet appreciative spirit and shed a few tears of recognition at the final voiceover:

To be clear, I don't put myself on the same level as these elite athletes, but stripped down to the least common denominator, their moment was our moment writ large. For me, this drive is part of what makes me an athlete. Yes, triathlon is sometimes about going the distance, other times about the competition, but at its best about digging deeper after you thought you had nothing left.

So thank you, Stephanie May of Somewhere in Iowa for making me dig deep that day and energizing my inner athlete. But thanks especially for helping me re-discover my Inner Gutsy Broad, who admires yours...and is hot on your heels! :D

I've Got Strep

2008-07-08T20:41:00.006-05:00

And this is what I do instead of train/blog:

This is the first time I've ever had strep. Lemme tell ya -- it sucks. My throat is on fire. Mostly, I'm annoyed because (a) I'd really like to be outside training and (b) I have a race on Saturday.

Oh yeah, and less than eight weeks to Iron Louie.

Here's hoping I have something lovely to blog about come Saturday.

I'm a Country Runner

2008-07-01T04:22:00.010-05:00

June 30 was the one-year anniversary of my arrival in Iowa. I celebrated with a short (40 minutes is short now?) run. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised by this, but I get a unique joy from running on country roads that I just don't get from neighborhood running.

Don't get me wrong, the neighborhoods of Iowa City have a special brand of serenity and peace that I've not found anywhere else. But the Zen of country running is on a level all its own. As I was pondering this entry, I happened upon a post on the Zen of Running. Reading through it, I realized that I get this from all the sports in triathlon. I'd say that breathing is particularly meditative for me when I swim, but contemplation and being in the moment are what buoy me on the bike and run.

I suppose this also explains why I haven't been blogging as much as of late. At first, I thought it was something about only being able to train or blog, but not both at the same time. But mostly, I've just been more introspective and in my own head for quite a while now. It's probably for that reason I'm unable to render this feeling in a satisfactory way.

Happy running.

How I Spent My Summer Solstice

2008-06-26T03:28:00.008-05:00

June 21st really was the longest day of the year for me -- I got in the car at 3 am CDT and stayed out until 1 am PDT for my 15-year high school mini-reunion. Let me tell you, it was well worth it. It was just a small gathering of the bunch of us who took honors classes together -- some of us having been together since elementary.

This really couldn't have come at a better time for me. I've spent all these years out marauding around the country -- it was great to come back to my roots, especially since my parents moved out of the area about a year after graduation and I've had no occasion to run into anyone. At the cores of our beings, none of us has really changed. What was especially wonderful was to find myself in a room full of happy, confident people who do not derive their identities/self-worth from their jobs. I've felt like an odd-ball in this sense in the places I've found myself all these years away. Turns out, our whole cohort is like this and I either learned this from them or alongside them. So refreshing. My impression of reunions is a bunch of people clobbering each other with how successful/happy/better they are...pretending to be. This factor was decidedly absent from this gathering. Nowhere to be found. We were genuinely curious and celebratory of everyone's paths since the last time we were together, and everyone seemed to be quite comfortable in their skin. Fantastic!

I'm not sure how to describe my exact feeling in seeing everyone so healthy, happy and content. Joyful? Satisfied? Affirmed? All of the above? I don't think I'll press the issue, just revel in the feeling.

These next pics are for my Mom. She fed these people lots of free and/or discounted donuts, which they remembered. I suspect she was more popular with them than I was because of it. (Also, I was kind of a rowdy numbskull. Like I said, none of us has changed much.)

Tammy, Jim, & Tom
(Mom, you probably remember Tom as the super tall kid who came in with Keith and the rest of the swimmers.)

Sara, Mike & Tammy -- The Bus 'D' crew.

Alas, not everyone was able to make it, but we enjoyed being together so much there is talk of making this an annual event -- especially since everyone but Sara and I live within an hour or so of each other. Can't wait 'til next year!

Ye Olde Timeline

2008-06-26T01:39:00.013-05:00

My high school friend, Tom, had one of these on his site and I decided to follow suit. (Will update as necessary.)

2008 -- Put 10 pounds back on while studying for qualifying exam. Pass. Blog sporadically; train with slightly more frequency. FINISH IRONMAN LOUISVILLE!

2007 -- Fail at first Ironman attempt. Begin PhD focusing on gender, sports, and media at the U of Iowa. Lose 20 pounds; finish first marathon.

2006 -- Finish putting on 30 pounds.

2005 -- Complete first triathlon. I'm hooked, but undisciplined.

2002-2007 -- Teach at Dona Ana Community College in New Mexico. Find my setting for "changing the world." Love my students and many of my co-workers.

2000-2002 -- Complete MA in Communication Studies at NMSU.

2000 -- While driving to a wedding in Taos, NM, a young woman and her dog pass us in her jeep. I realize I must go back to New Mexico. Through some strange twist of fate, Sara Kurzenhauser and I find ourselves living within 2 miles of each other in Seattle. Dan Dau is also in the area.

2000 -- Work as a writer in the WA State Legislature. Appreciate state-level politics much more than national.

1999 -- Graduate from George Washington University with an MA in Political Management. Move to Seattle.

1999 -- Fall ass-backwards into a job at the White House. We pause during salary negotiations to watch the impeachment vote. I see many famous people, Hillary Clinton disses me, and I become completely disillusioned by politics.

1998 -- Two days after graduating from NMSU, I begin classes at George Washington University in Washington, DC.

1996-1998 -- Major in Communication Studies at NMSU. Because of transfer policy, I manage to graduate with a 4.0 and high honors (top 1%). How you like them apples?

Spring 1996 -- Move to New Mexico and, having missed the registration deadline at New Mexico State University by two days, spend a semester reading Kennedy assassination conspiracy books. Contemplate joining the Navy. Even parked in front of the recruiting office. Mom said, "Ooh my baby's gonna be an officer in the Navy!" Dad (a Navy vet) said, "I don't think you want to do that." He was right.

Fall 1995 -- Transfer to Cal State Northridge to pursue degree in Communication Studies.

Spring 1995 -- Transfer to Solano Community College. Take first courses in communication; find my calling. Ran into Wayne Tilcock and gave him my dad's old Willy's truck.

1994 -- On the SSU cheerleading squad. Parents move to New Mexico.

1993-1994 -- Attend Sonoma State University because I didn't have to write an essay to get in. Also, it's beautiful. Majored in creative writing as part of a pipe dream to get on SNL. (Yes, I see the irony.)

1993-8, 2001-2002 (summers) -- Teach/direct summer camps for USA.

1993 -- Miraculously graduate from high school after not cracking a book for the entirety of my senior year and the majority of my junior year.

Thunderstorm-y Friday

2008-05-23T10:01:00.002-05:00

Oddly enough, I'm feeling like this today. I also kinda realized as I was looking for Eeyore pics that he reminds me a lot of Boots.

So I think what I'm going to do today is curl up on the couch with Rocky, a blanket, and a stack of sappy movies so I can miss my dogs all day and pretend it's the movies that are making me cry.

Hello Summer Vacation!

2008-05-16T11:22:00.004-05:00

I can't speak to the quality of this paper, but it is off my desk and it is now officially summer!

Halle-farkin'-lujah!

Music Monday 5.12.08

2008-05-12T16:30:00.007-05:00

Hill Climbing Mix

This is the stuff that -- you guessed it -- helps me get up those hills! (Thanks to Michelle for contributing Rihanna.)

Pon de Replay
Rihanna

Yeah!
Usher

Move B***h
Ludacris

Rollout
Ludacris

Get Ur Freak On
Missy Elliott

Boom! Shake the Room
DJ Jazzy Jeff & Fresh Prince

Smooth Criminal
Michael Jackson

If
Janet Jackson

Devil Inside
INXS

Suicide Blonde
INXS

Welcome to the Jungle
Guns n Roses

Cinco Du Mayo 2008, pt. 2

2008-05-06T21:02:00.002-05:00

Okay, I will start off by saying that the course was basically flat and obviously fast.

BUT

I averaged 18.0 mph -- still slow relative to the rest of the field, but a nice shot in the arm to start the season, nonetheless.

Splits:
Run1: 20:10 11:12/mile
Bike: 36:44 18.0 mph
T2: 1:21
Run2: 19:53 11:03/mile

Oh yeah, and my shins were acting up the whole time, so I expect that abysmal run pace to improve by the next race.

Neither New nor Kids...Discuss

2008-05-05T18:54:00.013-05:00

Oh. My. Gawd.

I just heard the new NKOTB song "Summertime" on the radio this afternoon, and I am so underwhelmed I almost have nothing to say.

Almost.

I will admit, I expected/hoped their new stuff would be deliciously bad on the order of Britney (expected) or even the soundtrack to Grease 2 (hoped). But it's bland in a way that even Miley Cyrus cannot match. And there's something especially ookie about listening to a bunch of guys approaching 40 singing a song that includes a lyric about getting a girl's number and being warned not to call after 10.

According to The Toronto Star here's what they've been up to in the hiatus:
"Since disbanding in 1994, members Jordan Knight, Joey McIntyre and Danny Wood each released solo albums [Danny released a solo album?] while Donnie Wahlberg turned to acting [but acting turned him away] and Jonathan Knight became a real estate developer [and was so successful at it he went back to boy-banding?]."

Truth be told, I admit to having a wall plastered with their pinups...in 1989...when I was 13. Jonathan was my favorite. Later, I found out that he and Tiffany dated for a while (the original Britney and Justin?) which made Tiffany a little better and Jon a little worse in my eyes. But I got into and over all of it in the span of about 3 months (in time for my 14th birthday). How's that for quintessential boy-band fandom? I will also say that Jonathan continues to be my favorite if only because he's the only one who appears to have been gainfully employed in the last 15 years.

So...back to the title of this post. They aren't new and they aren't kids. Which makes them Old Men on the Block. And where I come from (a land of heavy Law & Order viewing), those are called pedophiles (see aforementioned lyric).

Okay, maybe not that far, but at least creepy and sad

...like Bret Michaels.

Music Monday 5.5.08

2008-05-05T07:48:00.004-05:00

The Formative Years Series

I must admit, this week's list is much shorter as I was obviously more interested in R&B. But Casey Kasem's Weekly Top 40 being what it is, and junior high dances being what they are, all this still permeated my awkward stage. (When's this stage gonna be over already?!)

Next week I will take a little break before we hit the high school years for a hill-climbing mix. Enjoy.

Junior High, Vol. 2: Pop Metal, Hair & Guitars (1987-1989)

Welcome to the Jungle
Guns 'n' Roses

Nothin' but a Good Time
Poison

Pour Some Sugar on Me
Def Leppard

Dude Looks Like a Lady
Aerosmith

Here I Go Again
Whitesnake

Kiss Me Deadly
Lita Ford

I Hate Myself for Loving You
Joan Jett & the Blackhearts

Bad Medicine
Bon Jovi

Girls, Girls, Girls
Motley Crue

Opening Day -- Cinco Du Mayo 2008

2008-05-04T11:45:00.012-05:00

Wow! What a day! A lot of firsts:

Today was my first multisport event of the 2008 season, my first true duathlon ever, and Lucy Q's racing debut. She showed herself well (and pretty much paid for herself in numbers of peeps passed, which I will discuss momentarily).

First of all, I got pulled over for speeding on my way to the event -- and got off with a warning! (That NEVER happens to me -- I always end up with a ticket, but I suspect that turning off the gangsta rap that I had blaring probably helped.) I was a little worried about what that might augur for the race...in the end it's probably just ironic, as I am slow-ass-slow on foot.

Clothing Removal Required to Have a Good Time
At last! I am vindicated for the Jermaine Stewart Debacle! Despite being chilly in Iowa City when I left this morning, it was surprisingly warm (and sunny and perfect overall) in the Quad Cities and I quickly realized I was wearing WAY too many clothes. I have to admit, I did not plan well for this: I was wearing full tights, capris, a tank, a long sleeve shirt, AND a windbreaker. Luckily, I brought a short sleeve jersey along, but I left a pair of bike shorts sitting on my bed. What to do? Well...I decided not overheating was a fair trade-off for no butt padding. Yup, I went commando under my capris. BUT I was temperature-comfy and I didn't really notice the lack of padding.

Lucy Q -- My Trusty Steed
After a standard-issue out-&-back run, I hopped on my bike and took off for the 17K ride. It was mostly on quiet country roads, and the last few miles had a pesky headwind. I don't know what kind of crazy mojo I've got going for me all of a sudden, but I not only managed a 15+ mph avg (official times forthcoming), I PASSED TEN PEOPLE on the bike leg!!! (You better believe I was counting) It's one thing to pass a bunch of other women, but I will admit, I felt a special kind of joy when I picked off those last three guys -- going 17-22 mph!!! Even though two of them passed me again on the run, passing on the bike is a triumph I hardly ever experience. Certainly not 10 times in a short race and certainly not when there is a headwind. Oh Lucy Q, I love you!

We Ain't in New Mexico Anymore
One thing I noticed at this race is that peeps don't talk here. I mean, I've spent a LOT of time at the back of the pack. In New Mexico, we're all back there cheering for each other and giving supportive words when we pass, or on approach to turn-arounds, etc. Frankly, that was one of the most pleasant surprises when I first started -- it certainly made it easier to continue in the activity. But there was significantly less of that going on here. Except for the cheers I gave people, I don't know how many of the athletes would have said anything. Of course, the volunteers and spectators were amazing with the cheering, but I was left scratching my head about the relative silence of the other participants. Maybe this race had a lot of super-newbies who don't yet know to do that. *shrugs*

So...I finished with a time of 1:18:04. I forgot to hit my watch for splits, so I'll update that as soon as the race organizers post their results. I am chomping at the bit to find out how fast I rode. (Also forgot to zero out my computer -- D'oh!)

Happy day!

Wind Blows but Doesn't Suck

2008-05-01T18:39:00.006-05:00

Okay, we all know how much I hate biking in wind. Today I took off for my 12-mile loop, wind was blowing about 17-18 mph which I was determined to endure just to prove a point.

I was mentally prepared to slog it out through the cross- and headwinds, which I did for about 7 miles. And then it turned into a tailwind (though I didn't know it at the time, but I knew something was up when I was approaching town again after only 40 minutes). I managed a 12 mph pace in the headwind and bumped it up to 15.1 when all was said and done.

Here's the thing: I'm pretty sure that in real life I can only ride about 12.5 mph right now. Don't get me wrong, I still pushed those last 5 miles...but it's all just a little bittersweet knowing that I had "help."

Maybe it was a little reward for getting out there anyway.

You never have the wind with you - either it is against you or you're having a good day. ~Daniel Behrman, The Man Who Loved Bicycles

*shrug*

Music Monday 4.28.08

2008-04-28T10:57:00.002-05:00

The Formative Years Series

A word about intent:

I had originally intended to make this a playlist of "forgotten classics" but at some point it just seemed like The Ladies (Janet, Whitney, Madonna, and to a lesser extent, Debbie, Tiffany, and Paula) could not be left out. Of course, once I made that exception, there was no way I could exclude the MJ.

I also want to mention that when "Tell it to My Heart" came out, Taylor Dayne kinda gave me the creeps, but I have (mostly) gotten over that.

The locker rooms at Sullivan Middle School -- Fairfield, CA.

Junior High, Vol 1.: R&B/Dance (1987-1989)

Looking for a New Love
Jody Watley

Girlfriend
Pebbles

What Have You Done for Me Lately?
Janet Jackson

Cold Hearted
Paula Abdul

My Prerogative
Bobby Brown

Every Little Step
Bobby Brown

Monkey
George Michael

Lost in Emotion
Lisa Lisa & Cult Jam

Crush On You
The Jets

Rhythm of the Night
DeBarge

Shake Your Love
Debbie Gibson

I Think We're Alone Now
Tiffany

Tell It to My Heart
Taylor Dayne

So Emotional
Whitney Houston

Point of No Return
Expose'

Open Your Heart
Madonna

Smooth Criminal
Michael Jackson

In the Interest of Full Disclosure

2008-04-22T00:15:00.005-05:00

Okay, okay. I give.

My friends from California e-mailed to set the record straight on the whole Jermaine Stewart debacle:

"Krissy,
I don't know what the bet was, but I absolutely remember that song. Ana asked me about the "don't take our clothes off" song this morning and I was able to remember it and sing the chorus right away. What I didn't know until I saw the video just now is that the song was done by a male. The voice pitch and lyrics all seem like a woman's singing. And seriously, what kind of man drinks cherry wine and tries to talk a woman out of stripping???
- Scott"

"Krissy-
Last night when you called, I couldn't remember this song, but this morning in the shower I started singing it out of the blue and remembered it quite well. I have a terrible memory and can't say when I first heard it but I remember hearing it in junior high (TX) and maybe even freshman year (FHS). What was the bet about?
Ana"

Dang.

Music Monday 4.21.08

2008-04-21T07:05:00.009-05:00

In honor of Lucy Q's inaugural ride and my first ride of the season I've come up with a very special bike-intensive playlist that's all over the road, as it were, genre-wise. In case you need a refresher: click the titles to hear samples. Enjoy!!

Playlist: My Kingdom for a Bike***

Let Me Ride
Dr. Dre

Fantastic Voyage
Coolio

Push It
Salt 'n' Pepa

Weapon of Choice
Fatboy Slim

Chain of Fools
Aretha Franklin

Spinning Wheel
Blood Sweat & Tears

Slow Ride
Foghat

Free Ride
Edgar Winter

Life is a Highway
Tom Cochrane

Gear Jammer
George Thorogood

Low Rider
War

Life on the Road
Kinks

Ride
Amanda Marshall

Ride
Shelly Fairchild

Ride
G Love

***Biking on the open road is an iPod-less activity!!!

Back in the Saddle

2008-04-20T16:47:00.006-05:00

Today I finally got to take Lucy Q out for her inaugural ride. She just needs a few tweaks (aerobar placement, a new saddle) and we'll be all set for a glorious summer of training.

But what a great day!! The weather was perfect, and I saw 6 other cyclists out today. The major triumph for the day is that I got myself out the door and did it even though I'm hungover from last night (that'll teach me). I even pushed hard on the last 3 miles. This is huge. I usually just spend the day on the couch with Law & Order reruns and chicken wings. I don't even do homework.

A new leaf, indeed!

Also, it's good to write blog posts (as well as sign up for races, set goals, etc.) while still high on endorphins.

P.S. I don't think I ever properly introduced Lucy Q besides the bike porn. She is a Quintana Roo Lucero; "Lucy Q" just worked.

Settling a Bet

2008-04-20T09:35:00.004-05:00

A friend of mine has been giving me the bizness for the last week because I'd never heard this song "We Don't Have to Take Our Clothes Off" by Jermaine Stewart before he played it at the last gathering.

I whole-heartedly admit that this is firmly situated within my musical purview, but I'm arguing that (1) I didn't *really* start listening to non-country music until 1987 and (2) I just don't think this song was big on the West Coast. (Mostly #2 -- apparently on the West Coast, we insist on clothes off.)

The only other West Coast guy at the gathering last night (who grew up in Berkeley) said he'd never heard it. And a quick phone call to my Cali peeps also confirmed.

So long story short, I lost the $5 bones I'd earned in the "Cocktail was released in 1988" bet over this nonsense.

Earthquake!!!

2008-04-18T13:01:00.009-05:00

Epicenter was in Illinois, but at 5.2 it's no wonder we felt it here.

I must admit, I feel a little responsible.

Last week, we had a tornado warning, and ever since then I have been telling anyone who would listen how much I prefer earthquakes to tornadoes. And yesterday on the street, I had an impassioned conversation with my friends wherein I *might* have uttered the words "please give me an earthquake!"

My apologies to the Midwest.

Here's the crazy thing: it was kind of comforting...like a little bit of home (for those of you who don't know, I spent my first 20 yrs in CA). But the fact that I didn't sleep through it, as I did easily in my younger days, tells me that maybe they're right about not being able to go home again.

*sigh*

Still, despite my preference for earthquakes over tornadoes, I will (for the benefit of my new, retrofit-less Midwestern neighbors) be more careful how I word it next time.

I. Am. Qualified!

2008-04-08T19:21:00.000-05:00

Long story short:
1. As soon as I sat down they told me my written portion was a "strong pass" -- woot!
2. The session was planned for two hours; I was done in 30 minutes -- woot woot!

Apparently it was all in my head. But seriously, last night I finally worked up the courage to look at what I wrote. It was shockingly coherent and not at all reflective of the chaotic turmoil I experienced while writing it.

Go figure.

And now...back to the grindstone.

A Beautiful Day

2008-04-05T11:27:00.005-05:00

Just got word that I will do the oral portion of my quals on Tuesday. My chance to save it!

It's also gorgeous out today -- mid 60s, sunny. I'm RUNNING! More later...

I. Don't. Want. To. Talk. About. It.

2008-03-24T20:08:00.005-05:00

I just hope I can talk my way back into the program during the oral portion.

Music Monday 3.24.08

2008-03-24T09:41:00.009-05:00

I sit for my qualifying exam today at 2:00. It's four hours of what I like to call "creative accountability" for the history of media and cultural theory. Sometime in the next two weeks is the oral portion.

blah blah blah

Here's what's on the iPod to get me through today. (I'll update tonight with some commentary on each album.)

The Write Stuff -- Albums!

I, Swinger
Combustible Edison

Baja Sessions
Chris Isaak

Si Se

Fields -- American Music for Marimba
Filippo Lattanzi

The Well-Tempered Marimba
Filippo Lattanzi

Devil Inside or Soda Hangover?

2008-03-23T12:41:00.002-05:00

*groan*

No sleep and too much soda makes Krissy something something.

On the iPod:

The Garish Light of Morning

2008-03-23T08:43:00.004-05:00

First of all, check out those time stamps -- what the hell am I doing up right now?

I have to admit, I'm impressed with the coherence of those late-night posts, randomness notwithstanding.

In my defense, I'll say that I had to get that stuff out of my head to make more room for the quals stuffs.

And now...back to the books!