Nervous Nellie's Natterings

I woke up at 6 this morning. 6 on a Sunday should be impossible. Ought to be illegal. But my eyes wouldn't stay closed, so I got up and started in on my diminishing to-do list.


My driver's license's expiration date came and went without attracting my attention, January 31. It was late February or early March before I realized it. I stopped by a tag office on my way out of town one weekend, only to find that I'd need my birth certificate to renew my license, since it had been more than 30 days since my driver's license expired. Oy. So I put "find birth certificate" on my to-do list.


We could talk about how my car was still in the shop at that point, and the idea of needing a driver's license seemed a little, well, Pollyannaish and aren't-you-the-fucking-cutest, but that's a long story and it makes me cry. So let's move on.


Yesterday morning, I got up early to do some laundry before that morning's St. Patrick's Day 5k. I found myself at loose ends, laundry done, restless, so I set about looking for my birth certificate.


I expected a long and interesting hunt, perhaps uncovering some lost things along the way. I was almost disappointed to see my own hands destroy that idea with quick, confident movements. My hands went to the desk drawer, pulled out the stack of papers, extracted the manila folder and opened it to display the necessary document. I know I'm going on too long about this, but I can't really get over how sometimes I ride along inside my head, inside this body, the me-ness, the I of me, my consciousness sort of as a passenger.


A small ball of squishy blue light, bearing a vague resemblance to psychedelic Silly Putty - that's me. That's the me giving orders to this giant body, the me that has to do all the thinking - it's very small and very soft and perhaps it should not be surprising, based on how small and soft it is, that "regular life" can be so fucking hard - but! But sometimes. Sometimes this giant body seems to remember things all on its own. Muscle memory slides in like the nurse who just didn't have the money for medical school and could really be performing this surgery all by herself, but some federal policy dictates that we must have surgeons to cut on our hearts or it's a crime.


But I'm way off track. See, the thing is, I'm getting things done. I had "find birth certificate" on my to-do list, and then it was gone in a flash. So after the St. Patrick's Day 5k, I stopped by that same tag office and got myself a new driver's license. Just like a grownup. Except I'm wearing a sparkly green headband in my driver's license photo, and I forgot to take my race bib off my skirt before walking into the tag office.


This morning, I started on packing. "Packing" is a big place when you're starting almost a week before departure. I'm luxuriating in an unhurried state I don't often experience. I finally attached my miraculous medal to a jump ring so that it can easily be slid onto and off a shoelace.


Something you might not know about me - that miraculous medal is almost always with me. If you look, you can see it in pictures from just about every race and every training run - if the picture includes my shoes. I've sewed it to shoes, cutting it off when I got a new pair, and lately I've had it on a safety pin hooked to my laces.


I found this miraculous medal on the sidewalk one day a long time ago, when I was just discovering running. It's been with me ever since.


I'm taking my trail shoes to Florida, I think - I plan to run a trail half-marathon while I'm there, and run on the beach as many times as possible, and I think trail shoes can handle roads better than road shoes can handle trails. So the miraculous medal goes on the trail shoes.


Shut up, it was a big decision and it required a lot of mulling-over.


Next on my to-do list is "make sarongs." That's not crossed out yet, but I went to Jo-Ann's and bought fabric! I'm trying to decide whether hand-sewing the hems will be easier than using a machine - the machine will make a stronger seam and be faster, but I will have to thread the damned thing and I am not good at that (but I'm not good at it because I don't do it and this will require DOING IT three times), not to mention winding a bobbin in each case and oh dear. So the fabric sits hopefully in its bag, full of potential.


I did manage to get in for a pedicure. My toes are lovely. However, I discovered that getting a pedicure right after a run causes my normally stoic feet to become very ticklish. I should stick with getting pedicures on rest days.


I have an appointment for a wax. I have my vacation hours scheduled. I have my plane ticket. I have my suitcase. I have a pretty good idea of what I'm going to wear TO Miami. I have a vague idea of what I'll wear while I'm in Miami - mostly sunscreen, bathing suits and stuff to run in. I have a list forming of what I still need to buy.


Today, I need to go to the grocery store for this week's food. Another week of salads and protein shakes, running to the gym to get a weights-and-doodads workout in, then running home again.


To those whose next logical question involves tanning, please let me stop you right there. There's been enough cancer in my life. I refuse to give in to an outdated, mistaken and dangerous idea of beauty in the form of sun-damaged skin. I'm not always as meticulous with the sunscreen as I should be, and I love the feel of the sun on my skin, but I will not be acquiring any "color" on purpose. I'm really all right with being glow-in-the-dark white.


I went looking for a hair clip I want to take with me. I found it, 3 other clips, a barrette and innumerable ponytail holders.


I sorted through clothes, throwing anything I thought I'd want to take into my suitcase, sorting drawers of shirts and running gear. I filled a laundry basket with clothes to donate.


I have too much stuff.


I'm counting on my fingers, how many days I'm likely to run, how many pairs of socks I'll need, how many yoga classes I'll be able to take. Shoes take up a lot of room, so I'm only taking one pair of running shoes - the trail runners, as discussed above. Also in my suitcase will be sandals and flops. I'll wear my pirate boots.


When I traveled a lot, in my other life, I did it while carrying as little baggage as possible - usually just a carryon. Having the cavernous space of a whole suitcase at my disposal for a week of living in a hotel has me giddy.


I've also been thinking about an article I read in a recent Vogue by Cheryl Strayed, an excerpt from her book Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail. It's got me jealous and restless.


I like misusing the word jealous. Envious is such a prissy little cunt of a word.


How are you?

wherein irony is murdered to death. OR IS IT??

Having this new computer is just like when I got a bunch of new pots and pans the Christmas after I got married. They sat in the cabinet for I-don't-know-how-long, intimidating the shit out of me and sneering at my notions of Kraft macaroni and cheese. Those Calphalon pans, they wanted fancier foods.


This computer, it wants fancier words.


Also, I couldn't cook to save my life when I got married. I still had to read the instructions on that box of macaroni and cheese. Every time.


So it's exactly the same.


Also it's past my bedtime and I've been sitting for hours reading Television Without Pity recaps of Dexter - I just finished Season 4 and I am ALL ATWITTER about everything (OMG Lundy! OMG Deb! OMG OMG Rita, no! Wait. Yeah. OMG! Aw, LaGuerta y Batista). 


Also I'm preparing for a trip to Miami. You know, with all the Dexter. Because the show is so rooted in Cuban culture and stuff.


I can say, "Ay, papi," fairly convincingly. That's all the foreign language skill I plan to take. I'm traveling light.


Also I think there is probably not enough sweat in the show, and what's with all the window unit air conditioners? I'm going out on a limb here and saying I think Miami is probably Johnny on the fucking spot when it comes to central air conditioning. I'd wager their HVAC abilities are - um. Whatever HVAC abilities are when they're like, really good.


I say fuck a lot. Okay, maybe not here, but in my head, and in my drafts. I just deleted four fucks. One could argue there's little point in DELETING them if I'm just going to TALK ABOUT them, but fuck that argument. I deleted them from sentences that didn't NEED them. See? I just deleted another one. Because I'm a nice fucking person.


Okay, that was fun. How are you? We should get coffee. Ooh, I wonder what's up with Cuban coffee. Good, right? Probably? I don't know! I'm excited to find out.


I'm excited about getting to run on the beach. I've never run on a beach in my whole life, because back when I lived by a beach I didn't run. Oh, the cruel irony that is my life. Also, my salad forks have to live in the same slot with my dinner forks. Somehow I soldier on.


What else is there to do in Florida? I have major plans. Running on the beach. Reading by the water. Wearing mostly sunscreen. Am I missing anything?


Well, the cats are destroying something in the other room, so.

every sound is a monster

This morning before the race, Eddie turned on the tv and some movie with Adrien Brody was on, the one sort of like Species but somehow ickier, and I kept getting sucked into it while we ran around getting ready to go run the Little Rock half marathon. We ended up watching the end and regretting it. Well, I regret it anyway. It was terrible.


Little Rock is charming, which surprised me for some reason. At mile 7, I laughed at myself because I saw a street sign that said 11th, so I automatically tried to make the scene in front of me look like Tulsa, but my brain quickly corrected that. I thought, "Oh, right, I'm not in Tulsa. This must be OKC." Then I laughed. Tee hee, brains without enough oxygen make jokes on accident.


Maybe I'm still oxygen-deprived, because I can't explain why that was funny.


So tired, I've already been in bed for an hour. Ready to blast off into sleep the second I can stop my head from spinning.


Anyway, I had a lovely time. There were hiccups and hassles and headaches and probably a lot of other H-words, but the race itself went pretty well. I was pleased with my overall performance considering how much I have slacked off recently. I really need a goal to keep me moving forward, so I probably need to pick a marathon to train for. I'm not too thrilled about running OKC, even though I've never run the full marathon there. It was just so awful last year, running the half with my sister. The year before, it was how I met Eddie, so I went last year sort of for sentimental reasons. So I don't know. I need to sit down with a race calendar and make some plans.


It's funny how it's easier to run the miles than it is to sit down and plan the miles.


My feet hurt. It's a good hurt, though. I'm looking forward to yoga tomorrow.


Anyway that movie is still creeping me out.

prom night for blogsie

I fantasized about this, in the shower and on my walk to work, for days. Weeks. I imagined how it would feel, but I had no idea really. And now here I am, sitting at my own table in my own chair with my own computer on my own free time, ready to do it - just blog the shit out of that fucking blog - and I've got nothing. Sorry.

But the keys do feel nice under my fingers. Something will eventually develop.

I just got back from the Canebrake. Some dude I like flew in from England and we had ourselves a mini vacay. Spent 2 days out there. Caught a couple of yoga classes, which were lovely. It's a beautiful space. Go look at their website and be jealous - www.thecanebrake.com - then go out there and see for yourself.

One warning - should you find yourself arriving on a Tuesday night when the restaurant is closed and you haven't had dinner, you may as well save yourself some time and trouble and just go straight to the Wagoner Wal-Mart, where you can pick up some supplies to have yourself a bed picnic. None of the restaurants in town will be open, leaving Wal-Mart and fast food as your only options. Not that I am complaining! Salads and picnicky things can be found in abundance at Wal-Mart, and back in the privacy of your very own room, you and your darling-dearest can feed each other bits of things and kiss and coo to your little heart's content without drawing stares or stinkeyes from anybody. If you're into that sort of thing. Which we're not, me and that dude I like. We never have been.

We watched a documentary on Badwater while eating our picnic - I know how to bring the romance. Nothing says tenderness like watching runners lance their blisters and puke on the side of the road, right? For the record, I could not watch the blister-lancing. I could not even listen to it. Anyway, the documentary is called Running on the Sun and I recommend giving it a watch. I surreptitiously cried four times during our screening. That's four thumbs up.

We managed to get a run in - Eddie took pictures, but I failed to consider copying them for blogging purposes. No pictures were taken of the most important thing that happened - we saw a fox! He was big and fast and maybe a girl. I don't know, we didn't get very close to him/her, just saw him/her take off across a ridge away from us.

Before we saw the fox, we saw many whitetail deer, which is always exciting to me because I grew up with mule deer, an ugly cousin to the whitetail. I'm surprised mule deer don't moo. Whitetails, by comparison, are lovely and delicate and bouncy, flashing their little white tails like sassy little minxes as they vanish into the forest. One stopped at the edge of the ridge, looking down into the riverbed we were following. She looked back at us for a long time while Eddie took pictures of her. She finally decided we were of no consequence and flounced away, waving her bottom at us.

Before we saw the deer, we saw 3 buzzards! Are those turkey vultures? What are buzzards, anyway? Eddie didn't think long about it when I asked, just said he recognized a carrion eater when he saw one. I thought that was well put. I think it applies to people as well as animals. Not that I'm speaking disparagingly about the buzzards. They were lovely in their own way. In a sort of dark and unsettling way, sly eyes checking us for doneness, reminding us that we're bouncing along through the woods with our shoes and our digital watches strapped to bodies made of food for something else should our number come up. Hunched over in a gossipy little trio, they regarded us suspiciously and I wondered what the meal we had disturbed used to be.

After all the animals that came out to be sighted had been duly noted, we finished our run and spent the rest of the day napping and snacking in our room. I totally overslept and missed the evening yoga class.

Can you believe it's March already?

This weekend, Little Rock! Coming soon, Miami!

Oh, I totally ran Post Oak last weekend with my sister and I should probably blog about that before I forget how much fun it was. But right now it's past my bedtime. Remind me to talk about dinner later - the Canebrake does it right. Good night, dear hearts!