(Damn straight) that's a white-out

And that's snow on rooftops, at least for today.

Like everyone else around here, I find this noteworthy. 

Bring it, Mom Nature, since you've been skimping on us so far.

Bikini Challenge: (And,) it's back!

At least temporarily.....

By Wednesday I will have amassed 94 running miles in February, but likewise spent most of the month not doing the yoga, planks and crunches that I did in January.  And much of February eating all of the chocolate and cinnamon sugar treats that I held off eating in January.  And did, and am still doing, the reliable start-of-marathon-training fall-back of eating double portions of everything. 

I got a jelly belly, folks which I'm not sharing in a "before" photo.  And I have plane tickets for Fort Myers FL in 17 days.  And due to past bikini challenges, I no longer own a one-piece bathing suit. 

(Surely, even though the beach and pool in my aunt and uncle's retirement complex is not the Girls Gone Wild scene .... life in a a bikini is oh-so-much-more happier without a muffintop.)

The good news is:  I already gave up chocolate for Lent, so I have a headstart.

More good news:  I will be in Florida for 3 full beach days.  So said tummy can find a few rays prior to being viewed on the interwebs.

Even better good news:  I know from past marathon experience that once I get into the swing of the trianing, my desire to eat the entire contents of my refrigerator abates somewhat. As in, the worst may be behind me.

The best good news:  It is always good to have an excuse to stay in shape. 

The upshot:  Photo here.  Of me.  In bikini.  On Monday, March 19.  How I get there will be my top-secret belly-blasting plan!

Woo-hoo!

Foggy February Friday

This was the view, or lack there-of, pretty much all of today:

Many times, when I turned my head from my computer and saw this bleak grey wall, I called to mind the sound and lyrics of Dar Williams' "February" .... beautiful, melancholy, and bleaker than a Dickens novel:

I threw your keys in the water, I looked back,
They'd frozen halfway down in the ice.
They froze up so quickly, the keys and their owners,
Even after the anger, it all turned silent, and
The everyday turned solitary,
So we came to february.



First we forgot where we'd planted those bulbs last year,
Then we forgot that we'd planted at all,
Then we forgot what plants are altogether,
And I blamed you for my freezing and forgetting and
The nights were long and cold and scary,
Can we live through february?

It snowed for about 15 minutes this morning.  By the time I tried to snap a photo it had turned to mist, then soon, the fog that you see above you.  Not craving the snow and cold, but I'd certainly take it over this soul-sucking grey.

(And, no. Don't get me started on Dave Matthews' "Grey Street." That most certainly might do this already-fragile mood in.)

OKC: It works sometimes!

A couple weeks ago I expressed pleasure at the lovely coincidence of coincidence:   Student Driver found herself sharing a coffee table with one of her most faithful (and previously anonymous) readers. 

As you recall, it reminded me of this blog's foremost -- of several, mostly undocumented variations -- small-world story:  The Artist from The Western Suburbs having a poor date with me, telling his next OKC interest (that very evening) about our poor chemistry, said female acknowledging she was a fan of my blog .... and The Artist using it as a reason to suggest a date with her.

I'm notoriously poor at noticing comments that come more than a couple days after a post.  However, I was so pleased to just discover that, 5 days later, the most important person who could have weighed in on that post weighed in on that post:

"Hi Karin - I had to laugh at your favorite deja vu blog moment. I am the lady that you 'helped' the Artist get. We did not hit it off either but I am happy to say that I met a different lovely man on OKC and we've been married one year! Just a little happy ending to that story even though you don't know me :) ... " 

Hey Anonymous:   Woo-hoo!

Patience. Deep Breaths. Self-Awareness.

I hate cliches.  But sometimes they say it all.  And today I woke up on the wrong side of the bed.  And I can't tell you why.

By the time I got to work, I wanted to kill everyone.  Even nice friendly people.

So.  Drastic measures were required:  an Outlook task reminder that popped up at 9:30 a.m. with nothing more but the subject:

Patience.  Deep Breaths.  Self-Awareness.

And then I changed the reminder for a half-hour later.  And at 10 I refreshed it for a half-hour later.  And I did this until 6 p.m.

I'll tell you that every time I saw that reminder in my browser, I realized that I needed a deep breath to clear my chest, and that my mouth had been turned in a frown....because I could feel the change when I forced myself to smile each time.

You know.  The day went OK in the end.  I'm wondering if I should just leave this reminder on indefinitely.

Update 2/23/12, 12:30 p.m.:  Still refreshing yesterday's Outlook reminder on the half-hour.  Still taking extra deep breaths.  Day progressing smoothly, despite previous late night drinking Maker's Mark and catching up with Justin at Alibi and upon returning home, eating a full pan of pasta and black beans before bed.  Verdict:  Still thumbs-up.

I need your love

Now that I'm getting into marathon training (again) and am running more than 10 miles at a time on a regular basis, I'm a lot more picky about my iPod playlist:  every song, not just every other song, has to be borderline inspirational.

Recently, I was lucky enough to rediscover U2's  Rattle and Hum.... an album enough of my time (1988) and old and important enough to first be owned on double cassette (high school) and then on CD (post-college) before making its way to my iTunes.  And thusly rediscover "Hawkmoon 269" from said album.

If you listen to it a couple times you'll see its appeal: pulsing, unchanging Bb bass line; hypnotic, repetitive, worthy mantra every 2-5 lines; timpani; and gospel chorus joining in after 4 minutes and crescendoing to the end.

(Kind of like good sex, yes, if you're the sort who hears gospel choruses while in the act. Which isn't exactly a bad inspiration for running, I must admit.)

Like a desert needs rain
Like a town needs a name
I need your love


Like a drifter needs a room
Hawkmoon
I need your love


Like a rhythm unbroken
Like drums in the night
Like sweet soul music
Like sunlight
I need your love


Like coming home
And you don't know where you've been
Like black coffee
Like nicotine
I need your love


When the night has no end
And the day yet to begin
As the room spins around
I need your love


Like a phoenix rising needs a holy tree
Like the sweet revenge of a bitter enemy
I need your love


Like the hot needs the sun
Like honey on her tongue
Like the muzzle of a gun
Like oxygen
I need your love


When the night has no end
And the day yet to begin
As the room spins around
I need your love


Like thunder needs rain
Like a preacher needs pain
Like tongues of flame
Like a sheet stained
I need your love


Like a needle needs a vein
Like someone to blame
Like a thought unchained
Like a runaway train
I need your love


Like faith needs a doubt
Like a freeway out
I need your love


Like powder needs a spark
Like lies need the dark
I need your love


In the heart of the heat of the love
In the heart of the heat of the love

Saturday coffee scene

Only in Lexington, MA, at Peet's on Mass Ave on a dimming Saturday afternoon

Can I get annoyed by a college girl in leggings and clunky boots (Brandeis?  Bentley?  Can college kids really afford to live in Lexington?) bragging to a friend about how she rocked her audition for The Vagina Monologues at a volume level more appropriate for the stage

And when I wrench around with purpose to glare her into a more appropriate conversational tone for a public space, instead light upon the table between her and I,

Where sits a man of about 88, in trench coat and scally cap and thick glasses,  coffee cup and Science Magazine on the table before him, head slightly bowed as he balances on his cane, either dozing despite the vaginal racket or completely unfazed.

Both possible scenarios are impressive.

Keyword: Bikini

While I don't get any real jollies (or monetary recompense) for why or how or how many times my blog gets pinged, I was amused today, when perusing stat-checker totals, to see that a Canadian reader found this blog with the search term: Bikini Bones Woman (while acknowledging it ain't the first time the Bikini Challenges of yore have drawn clicks), so I entered the phrase into http://www.google.com/ and, through the first 20 pages of the 5,590,000 results (as of this writing), this blog doesn't yet come up, so I searched the same under http://www.google.ca/ and out of those 5,580,000 results (as of this writing), the same, which begs the question,  what exactly was this guy looking for and how long did he have to scroll through medical links about female pubic bone disorders and photos of swimsuit-clad women bearing skull-and-crossbone flags before he got to me?

Can someone invent a Pause Button?

Some days,
like today,
I just need to catch up with life.

You're kidding. Someone else besides me mocks OKC profiles on a blog?

The first thing I saw on Facebook this morning was a status update from Michigan-friend Mike, who can always be counted on to put the driest spin on anything:

"Ah, February 14. The annual ritual that ends the day with me doing my taxes. :D"

I'm feeling slightly less cynical about Valentines this year ... my day started with a west coast text at 5:45 a.m. from MSF as he was getting into the shower. I've also a dinner date later with Student Driver; we were first reticent to make plans on a night we former restaurant workers like to refer to (yes, cynically) as "amateur night." However, she confirms a place she knows that "won't be filled with couples."

I'm not Anti-Couple, BTW.  I'm pro-No Hassles Dining Out Experience On A Major Holiday.

Speaking of SD, yesterday she so helpfully sent me a link to a blog she recently discovered: Inspecting Cupid.  As in:

"This blog is 80% humor, 17% advice, and 6% perspiration. It’s dedicated to translating a person’s OK Cupid profile into what will happen in real life if and when you decide to date said person."

Say no more. I was hooked at the stated concept. I became even more hooked when reading the Jan. 27 post title: "If I Answered the OKC Questions Honestly."  The first paragraph, "his" self-summary:

"I’m a 30-year-old “man” who lives with his parents and has over $150,000 in educational loans from a degree I’ll never use. Thanks in part to my diet and in part my poor genetics, I have horrible, earth-ending flatulence. I oscillate daily between bouts of egotism and self-pity, the former usually resulting from my masterful PS3 skills, the latter from just about everything else I do. I also tell a mean joke, though I do so with this highly affected pseudo-East Coast accent I developed while in college. You’ll get tired of it after 5 dates."

More recently: "Today's OKCupid Profile is Tomorrow's Awful Valentine's Day Date."

"... imagine a world where I am not only in a relationship, but I’m with someone I met off OKCupid. What then? Let’s get inspecting.

The text: [female, 26] (The first thing people usually notice about me) “My lack of coordination.”

The Valentine’s Day Date: You surprise her at home with a bouquet of flowers. So startled by the gesture, she tumbles backwards down the flight of stairs leading up to her apartment and breaks her arm. You spend the rest of the night in the hospital listening to her complain about how shitty Valentine’s Day is."

Whatever you think of the brand of humor, for obvious reasons "his" blog has now been hooked to "My Blog List" (at right) and updates will be appearing regularly.   Let the cross-polllination begin.

And, Happy Valentines Day.