Encouragement

Yesterday I worried I would never be ready to run a 5k on Thanksgiving. But I received words of encouragement, and today I got up and ran. It was only about 1.5 miles, but it was all outside, with inclines and obstacles (pick up your dog's poop, people!) and the brisk autumn air. I reached the goal I set for myself today and will try to run farther -- and faster -- next time.

The biggest downside to running outside, especially in the morning, are the exhaust fumes from the cars and trucks passing. It makes me wonder if it really isn't healthier to just run at the gym, even if running on a treadmill gets boring pretty quickly. I'm going to have to find a place to run where I won't be breathing exhaust fumes -- either a good running trail or just less traveled roads. Although with winter just around the corner, running on the treadmill may have to be the way to go for a while.

I'm feeling pretty good about the running. I've always exercised, but it's easy to get burned out. I'm not really into Spinning (the instructors for those classes have to be sadists!) or the class setting in general. I guess I'm just too independent to enjoy them. Running fits with the kind of exerciser I am. I just have to get better at it. Now that I've written about it, I have to stick with it.

What was I thinking

One day at the gym, I saw a story on the news about running in a Turkey Trot. Because the sound is always turned down on the TVs at the gym, all I saw were smiling people bundled up, pushing strollers, holding dog leashes, having a great time. I thought to myself I should do a Turkey Trot this Thanksgiving. These 5k runs are designed to get you moving and burn some calories before you stuff yourself on stuffing, as well as bring in some money for a good cause (locally, it's the YMCA). "What a great idea," I thought at the time. I could run this race, then not feel guilty about pigging out later.

Instead of doing a search for information on a 5k run, I asked the Significant Other how many miles are in 5k. His answer: 2.5 miles give or take. So I've been hopping on the treadmill at the gym, slogging through 2.5 miles at about 5.2 miles per hour (I'm not much of a runner) and starting to feel like I could make it. Until today, that is. Today, I decided to look up some information about training for my first ever 5k.

I found this at About.com:

"Running a 5K is an excellent goal for new runners. You'll get lots of motivation, as well as enjoyment, from participating in a race, and 5K (3.1 miles) is the perfect distance for first-timers."

You probably already knew this, but in case, like me (and apparently my S.O.), you were never good with the Metric system, 5 kilometers is equivalent to 3.1 miles. I need to run .6 miles farther than I have been. I know it doesn't seem like much -- and it probably really isn't -- but I know running on a treadmill is easier than running on the street. And I'm just starting to feel like I could run this on a treadmill. While, I work out on a regular basis, easily completing 2 or 3 miles on the elliptical machine or the stair stepper, running has always been a whole other ballgame to me.

If I really want to complete the 5k on Thanksgiving (and I do), I'm going to have to step it up a notch. I have just over two weeks to feel comfortable running 3.1 miles. I have to keep telling myself I can do it.

I would blog more ...

if there were more room on my chair.





I know he's thinking, "Why is she crowding me? And what's with the pictures?"

So's your face

There was an episode of "Scrubs" where J.D. tried to sting people with the comeback "So's your face." He used in all situations, even when it didn't make sense, replying, "'So's your face' always makes sense."

I had a "so's your face" moment yesterday when a stranger commented on one of my old entries about my new car. The comment: "Good for people to know." Maybe I misinterpreted the snarkiness of this comment, but coming from some random faceless person, I don't think I did.

I started this blog to keep in touch with friends and family and to be able to ramble about stuff I care about. Maybe the things I write wouldn't be all that interesting to the general public, but it's my blog. I'm not writing about this stuff in the comments section of other people's blogs, especially not on entries that are more than a year and a half old. And because it's my blog, I can reject these comments. I considered for a moment accepting the comment so I could zing the commenter with something witty, you know, like "so's your face."

Instead, I like to think I took the high road.

Drying up

It seems my one regular freelance writing gig may be drying up soon. While it wasn't exactly a gravy train, it was easy money. I didn't have to go out of my way to track down leads -- they were handed to me. And I knew I'd have at least two or three assignments a month. Now, my good friends and associates are being outsourced, and while I'm told the outsourcing company wants to use the same freelancers, I've yet to hear from anyone. So I'm not holding my breath.

I have a part-time job now but I was hoping it would supplement my freelance money, not be the only source of income I contribute to the household. The significant other keeps me supplied with Chai and paperbacks, but I don't like the idea of being so dependent on someone. My part-time work gives me enough to make my car payment, buy gas and pay for my gym membership, so we do ok. But I have always wanted to be a writer. Always. In third grade I entered (and was a finalist in) the Young Authors Contest with a story called "A Visit From A Leprachaun."

It contained such literary nuggets as:

"Then I saw the leprachaun doing cartwheels up the side of the rainbow. When I saw him doing that, I gasped in excitement.

'Hurry up or I'll have to go to someone else!' he yelled.

When I got to the top, I slid down the other side and landed in a giant pot of gold.

'I've never seen so much gold in my whole life! I'm rich. I'm rich! I'm rich!' I exclaimed."

As you can see, it was genius. And it started me down a path of writing. My biggest problem is I don't like to go out an hunt down the assignments. Face it, I'm lazy. So I have to either start writing that novel that every writer always plans to write, get on the ball and find some writing gigs or give up the dream.

Inspired by Heather, I'm going to try to write on my blog more. I figure almost as many people read this as read my test drives. So what have I got to lose?

Election news burnout

For a while now I've been kind of obsessed with election news. And while I voted early, it ain't over till it's over. So I'm checking the news sites, watching the Daily Show, even reading the local newspaper, trying to see what will happen next. I know I'll be watching the election coverage Tuesday night, anxious about the outcome. But today, with two days left, I've hit a wall. I don't think I can read at any more campaign news, look at any more pictures of the candidates and their spouses or watch any more interviews or clips from SNL with the candidates or their lookalikes.

If you haven't voted, be sure to get out Tuesday and cast your ballot. If you know someone who might need help getting to the polls, offer a ride. Now, I have to stop thinking about the election for a couple of days. With that in mind, check out this slide show from The Huffington Post of Cute Zoo Animals Eating Birthday Cake.

It might help you take your mind off the election. It helped me.

Hippos! Yay!

Ripley's busy morning

After a hearty breakfast, I set to work dismantling a Puffs box Dad tried to put on my head as a Halloween costume. Mom made me pose for pictures with the dismantled box.

















Then it was time for a nap in the sunbeam. I'm not really supposed to be on the bed, but sometimes Mom and Dad are pretty lenient.


















A loud noise caught my attention. From this vantage point, I can see right out the window to where the garbage men are picking up the neighbor's trash.

Grrrr. Garbage men. Grrrr.
















Ooh look at the big truck.

Exercising my right

Passed in 1920, the Nineteenth Amendment to the United States Constitution guarantees women the right to vote.

Early voting is open in Colorado, and I've exercised my right and cast my vote.

Now, whatever happens, I've earned my right to bitch about the outcome.

Gainfully employed (part-time anyway)

Back in June, I began volunteering as a tutor for the Children's Literacy Center. As of two weeks ago, I began working for the Children's Literacy Center as a site coordinator. I had been tutoring for a few months and thought it wouldn't be too difficult to take over the job. It's been a bit of a rough transition as the person who left had been stretched too thin, trying to cover two places at the same time. I think trying to be in two places at once defies some kind of law of physics, but I never did well in science.

When I started they rearranged the schedules so I don't have to break that law and can focus on each site individually. I also have to switch up some students as the program is designed for kids who are at the youngest in the second semester of 1st grade. So, this little part-time gig has been all-consuming -- at least mentally and emotionally. I've even dreamed about it. I want it to run smoothly and I want everyone -- tutors, students, myself -- to get the most out of the experience. I think it's a really important program.

As a total bookworm since I learned to read, I just can't imagine not having the ability to read, let alone enjoy the escape of a really good book. I hope that once I get organized, it will all run a lot more smoothly. The kids are great and the tutors are the best. I just need to pull it all together.

You are my sunshine

Chilly days call for naps in the sunshine.






















It's better when there's no one around to disturb the nap by taking pictures.






















A fluffy down comforter makes a nice place to nap, too, even without the sunbeam.

Road trip

Last Friday, the significant other and I took a road trip to Mueller State Park, just west of Divide. We wanted to take in some of Colorado's fall colors. It was a perfect day for a hike. There were some clouds slowly rolling in and a slight breeze, but there was also enough sunshine to keep us warm.

We decided to spring for the annual state parks pass, hoping that will get us out more. It's $60 and good at all of the state parks for 12 months.

We picnicked from our tailgate at the Elk Meadows trailhead before heading out for a two-hour hike.

The Elk Meadows trail is mostly along the edge of the forest, overlooking the meadows. But it has plenty of pretty views and lots of aspen. If not for the blister the significant other developed and the clouds becoming more ominous, we probably would have stayed out longer.


We hope to go back and explore a lot more of the trails, as well as taking in the views at some of Colorado's other state parks.

The changing seasons

This is the tree in our front yard. I don't think it's quite ready commit completely to autumn.

Blind hope

When I first saw the trailer for the movie "Blindness" I got goosebumps. I loved this book when I read it way back when, right after it won the Nobel Prize for Fiction. But then I remembered what Hollywood did to other books I loved. "All The Pretty Horses" was the worst. The movie practically ruined the book for me. Luckily, I was able to put the movie out of my mind. (I just pretend it never happened.)

Written by Jose Saramago, it was translated from Portuguese. Even though the hardbound copy is only 293 pages long, the book took me a long time to get through. Saramago can be difficult to read. He doesn't signify dialogue with quotation marks, and punctuation is sort of random, so everything kind of flows together. But even now, just rifling through the pages of my copy, I'm drawn to read passages again.

"What are you thinking of, asked the girl with dark glasses, worried when she heard the snipping of the scissors cutting off her hair, If your parents were to return, they would find hanging from the door handle a lock of hair, who else could it possibly belong to but their daughter, asked the doctor's wife, You make me want to weep, said the girl with the dark glasses, and she had no sooner said it, than she lowered her head over the folded arms on her knees and gave in to her sorrows, her sadness, to the emotions aroused by the suggestion made by the doctor's wife, then she noticed, without knowing by what emotional route she had arrived there, that she was also crying for the old woman on the first floor, the eater of raw meat, the horrible witch, who with her dead hand had restored to her the keys to the flat."

Because of the difficulty of the material, and because it's so good, I really worry what Hollywood is going to do with this story. The book isn't a horror story in that it isn't about ghosts or monsters, but it is terrifying, like any apocalyptic book, in its study of human nature. In the trailer, it looks like the movie makers captured the starkness and desperation of the book. I only hope they can keep that desperation as quiet and meaningful as Saramago did.

The trailer looks good. You can watch it here.

I will see the movie. I will try not to get my hopes up. Oh, too late.

It sucks to be me

What I watched -- Live theater version: "Avenue Q" at the Ellie Caulkins Opera House, Denver

The lights come up on an urban street scene. Row houses line the street. It's all a bit like "Sesame Street." Puppets and live actors mingle. Characters have names like Kate Monster, Brian, Trekkie Monster, Christmas Eve, Gary Coleman and Lucy the Slut. Yeah, this is not your kindergartner's puppet show. While it's like "Sesame Street" with puppets, songs and important lessons, the puppets of "Avenue Q" drop the F-bomb, have carnal relationships and sing songs to teach us "It Sucks to Be Me," "Everyone's a Little Bit Racist" and "The Internet Is For Porn."

At various times, two adorable bears show up to help our characters make decisions. They are the bad idea bears. They offer essential advice like, "Take her home. She's wasted. Yaaay!" and "Why buy a six-pack if you can save money buying bulk? Yaaaaaaaaaaay!"

And while it has puppets, it's definitely not for the kiddies. To my dismay, as usually happens with things that are inappropriate for children, people brought their pre-teens. I imagine they had some interesting conversations later that evening explaining the puppet sex.

"Avenue Q" is irreverent, funny and probably offensive to a lot of people. So, of course, I thoroughly enjoyed it. You can see and hear some clips on the official Web site. But you really have to see the entire show to fully appreciate it. It's playing in Denver now through Sept. 21.

What I heard

Listening recently to a podcast of This American Life, I heard Shalom Auslander say something I wish I'd said myself. I didn't write it down at the time so I can only paraphrase:

I don't like people. That's why I don't understand racism. When there's so much to dislike about a person, why choose the color of his skin to focus on?

As I said, it's not a direct quote (but pretty darn close), but it sums up how I feel about racism. It's hard not to prejudge people based on how they dress or look, it's human nature. If we take a minute to get to know someone, we probably find our initial judgment may have been wrong. Sometimes the person who was dressed nicely wasn't all that nice and the person who looked a bit of a bum turned out to be a sweetheart.

As I've said -- much less eloquently than Auslander -- assholes come in all colors.

Landscaping

There comes a time in our lives when we must admit we're not good at everything and some DIY projects are better left undone. Professional landscapers exist for a reason. They have the manpower, the know-how and -- let's face it -- the gumption to get the job done.

I'll readily admit that yard work is not my thing. While I love spending time outdoors, I want that time to be spent sipping a cold drink and watching the clouds roll by. Sticking my hands in the dirt, pulling weeds, digging, raking are just not my cup of tea. I always seem to end up with a rash on my arms and a sunburn on my shoulders. So, when the work needed to be done, we called in the professionals.

They ripped up dead sod and shrubs. They weeded and put down new mulch and rock. And they finished the work in a fraction of the time it would have taken me and the significant other to do it. We spent one whole day just doing a tiny little area -- that the professionals ended up redoing because the weeds had come back with a vengeance. They did almost the entire backyard in less than a day. We didn't have them add any new plants because we haven't decided what to put in yet. But with the weeds pulled and the dead grass gone, the yard looks 100 percent better than it did just two days ago.

I've learned a few things from this experience. Always use landscape cloth, professionals will do a better (and faster) job than I could ever hope to do, and my dog suddenly becomes shy about doing her business if there are strangers in her backyard.

What I read: "Independence Day" by Richard Ford

Richard Ford's "Independence Day" won the 1996 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction. It reminded me a lot of John Updike's "Rabbit Is Rich," without the loathsome characters. (Updike won the Pulitzer in 1982 for that book and again in 1991 for "Rabbit At Rest.") The book tells the story of Frank Bascombe's Independence Day weekend. Bascombe, once a short story and sports writer, is now a real estate agent. Divorced and living in what he calls his "existence period," Bascombe goes through the motions of showing houses to a difficult couple, deciding whether or not to end a lukewarm relationship and trying to get to the heart of the matter with his troubled teenage son.

Both books tell a story of the Everyman and a slice of his life. Angstrom is a car salesman. Bascombe is a real estate agent. Both have troubled sons. Angstrom has a seemingly troubled marriage, while Bascombe marriage is over. While Bascombe bears a resemblance to "Rabbit" Angstrom, he's more self-aware and likable. That might also come from "Independence Day" being written in the first person.

The books share a certain tone of despair and hope. The characters seem to despair when things look most hopeful and are most hopeful when all seems lost. But, while I struggled to get through "Rabbit is Rich" or even care about one character in the book, I relished "Independence Day" and found myself hoping for the best for everyone.

It's not an exciting book. You won't find car chases or shoot outs. Although, there is a tense scene involving a batting cage. It's a fairly quiet book, with vivid descriptions of New Jersey towns and the countryside. I finished reading the book last week, and although it has stuck with me, I found I didn't have much to say about it. I suppose that can be said about my own life at times.

Accomplishment

Two years ago, we decided to redo our deck. We thought we could just replace the flooring. But when we pulled up the wood, we found extensive dry rot. Which means the home's builder (who I won't name, but is known for its *classic* home style) didn't bother to use pressure-treated wood to build an outdoor structure. The project came to a screeching halt. Later, some friends helped us take out the old wood and replace the frame and floorboards. We used composite on the flooring.

Time passed while we tried to decide what to do for rails and balusters -- and passed and passed. Two years later, we decided to use wood rails and aluminum balusters, along with copper post caps and solar post cap lights. It took two grueling, sun-baked, god-awful-hot weekends, but we finally completed our deck. And added a couple of brightly colored wood Adirondack chairs and side table for kicking back and enjoying an iced tea or beer.

I've never been much of a do-it-yourselfer. I'm not exactly handy with tools -- especially power tools. But it feels pretty good to walk out and see something I helped build. It's quite an accomplishment.

What I did this summer

I've been able to read for as long as I can remember. I could read when I started kindergarten. In 4th grade, I was reading at a college level, according to the standardized tests. That's not to brag, just to say that reading has always been easy for me -- and a pleasure -- and the thought of not having that is almost beyond my comprehension.

So, with some extra time on my hands this summer, I decided to volunteer as a tutor for the Children's Literacy Center. I worked one-on-one with two different children at Adams Elementary School: a six-year-old boy and a nine-year-old girl. I tutored each kid for an hour a day, twice a week, using the Children's Literacy Center's Peak Reader program. It made my job easy. I just had to follow the curriculum and lessons in the book. The most fun was doing flash cards with the kids. Some days, the boy I worked with was a little wound up so we would go out in the hallway with the flash cards. When he read a word correctly, I would have him hop forward or spin around or do some other activity. By the time he'd read all the cards, he'd be ready to sit down and do a lesson.

I find it interesting to think about learning to read. Think of the English language and all the crazy "rules" it has. Then look at a word like "said." How does that fit in anywhere? How does "ai" make an "eh" sound? Or think about "two" which sounds like "to" and "too." Why is there a "w" in that word? In our sessions, we called these kind of words "naughty" because they don't follow any rules. You just have to remember it. It gets crazy when you think about it for too long.

By the end of our eight weeks together, the kids had learned the words on their flash cards and were doing well reading on their own. I hope they learned a lot and are ready for school to start. I know I am a better person because of the experience. I'm sure I got as much out of as they did.

At the end of it all, we had a party with cookies and games and lots of smiles. I have a picture of myself with the two kids, all of us smiling and really enjoying ourselves. The boy I tutored wrote me a note that said, "I love you Pam." It almost made me cry.

I'll be tutoring again in the fall. I don't know if it'll be with the same kids or different ones. But I'm sure it will be rewarding. It feels good to think I've made a small difference in these kids' lives, even if it was just for the fact that someone took time out of her day to spend it with them.

What I read: "A Thousand Splendid Suns" by Khaled Hosseini

I have yet to read "The Kite Runner" by Khaled Hosseini. It's on my reading list. I've almost bought it at Starbucks a few times. I look for it at the library, but it seems to be too popular to stay on the shelf, and there's always something else on my list.

"A Thousand Splendid Suns" wasn't on my list, but when I went to look -- once again -- for "The Kite Runner," several copies of this book sat on the shelf. I picked it up, thinking I'd give Hosseini a chance with his second book.

I'm really glad I did. "A Thousand Splendid Suns" is one of the most heart-wrenching books I've read in a long time. It was almost painful to read at times, yet I found myself unable to put it down. The two main characters -- Mariam and Laila -- are so compelling, so tragic, but still so courageous and filled with hope even in the face of hopelessness, I couldn't wait to see what happened to them. And then I didn't want it to end.

Set against the backdrop of Afghanistan through the rise and fall of the Soviet Union to the horrors of civil wars and the Taliban, "A Thousand Splendid Suns" manages to be filled with both hope and despair, beauty and horror. Anyone who has ever believed they wouldn't tolerate the kind of treatment Afghan women endure will come to see that they would tolerate it. Both Mariam and Laila have little choice as to whether they will put up with being beaten, being told when and where they can go out, wearing a burqa or being given away in marriage to a man more than twice their age or marrying a man who already has a wife. In Laila's case, her husband is old enough to be her grandfather. But circumstances don't really allow these women another option.

Despite the raids, the bombings, the beatings, the women experience moments of pure splendor:

"Outside mockingbirds were singing blithely, and once in a while, when the songsters took flight, Mariam could see their wings catching the phosphorescent blue of moonlight beaming through the clouds. And though her throat was parched with thirst and her feet burned with pins and needles, it was a long time before Mariam gently freed her finger from the baby's grip and got up."

Khaled Hosseini was born in Kabul, Afghanistan, but moved to the United States in 1980. Still, he manages to capture what I can only imagine it must be like to be a woman in Afghanistan. Despite the struggles, the losses, the absolute terror of living in a worn-torn land, life -- somehow -- goes on. They still love and find beauty in their country and each other.