Spring Break ends with early wake-up calls
During normal life, I get up at 5 or 5:30 pretty much every day to go to work, but over Spring Break I took advantage of the opportunity to be kind of lazy and "slept in" till 7 pretty much every day. Until this weekend, when I had to get up early (on Saturday to get to a 6 a.m. TNT practice, and on Sunday to get to a 7 a.m. race). So what? you may be asking yourself. Well, to be honest, I don't have any idea what the point of this is. It's not particularly amusing, and there's nothing deep or philosophical about it, so why did I bother to write about it. I sense there might be some hint of irony in the whole "getting up early on the weekend" thing, but that seems like a stretch (and a pretty lame one at that). After all, don't farmers get up early every day? And milkmen (or, to be more PC, milkpeople)? And the DJ's or news anchors who have early morning shows (or are those only on the weekdays - in which case, they wouldn't fit here at all)? Anyway, the race was great this morning (nice segue, eh?). Beautiful weather (a little chilly as we waited for the start, but not bad), a good turnout, and I felt pretty good considering I haven't really been able to push it since I hurt myself a couple of months ago. Managed a few miles at a sub-8 minute pace, which was highly encouraging (and reminded me how good it feels to just let it go and run).
Hedgehogs on the wall
On Saturday, at the aforementioned TNT practice, some of us were hanging around at the ramada (because we were racing the next day in the half-marathon, we kind of slacked off on our coaching duties Saturday and spent more time standing around than running) and were not really doing much, just chatting and cheering people on as they passed by and watching folks run/cycle past on the path. Then a couple rode by on their bikes, and they were talking about these little critters that live all along the path, and the woman said something like, "What are those things - packrats?" and the guy said, "I think they might be packrats," and the woman said, "No, I think they're hedgehogs," and then they were gone, and we were all like - packrats? hedgehogs? they're ground squirrels, people. I mean, does a ground squirrel look anything like a packrat? Okay, maybe a little. But a hedgehog? Anyway, this then led to a discussion about hedgehogs and someone who shall not be named (but if he were to be named, his name would be Rick) told us about how when he was a kid, he and a friend would go out with a jeep and a bow and arrows and they would shoot hedgehogs, then they would skin them and tack the pelts up on their bedroom walls. Which created this really weird (and slightly disturbing, in a "isn't this one of the first signals of psychopathic behavior in children?" kind of way) image in my mind of a teenage boy's bedroom with the walls plastered by little tacked up hedgehog skins - which made me think back to my own teenage bedroom which didn't have any hedgehog (or, for that matter, any small/medium/large animal) skins on the walls. But I did have the iconic Farrah Fawcett-Majors poster. Not sure which is worse. Or better.
The master
Moving right along, as some of you are no doubt aware, my lovely wife, Katie, has been struggling with various running injuries over the past few months and hasn't been able to run like she'd like to. This led to a general funk for her, which I completely (okay, sort of) understand. Mainly because when I have injuries that make it so I can't run, I get in a funk, but I also find some other form of exercise so I can continue to exercise. So when she wasn't able to run, I tried on numerous occasions to get her to come to the pool with me to do some swimming. And she did tag along - once or twice - but usually she had some kind of really good and completely justified excuse for not going, like, "I can't go swimming because I'm busy being in a funk about my injury." So I was glad when she decided to sign up for the Master's swimming program that they just started at the Y, because I knew that if she paid for it, and if there was a group that was meeting at a specific time on a specific day, she would go. And she has been - faithfully for a couple of weeks now. The problem, though, is that now that she's a "master swimmer," I've lost my edge over her in the water. Not that I had it for very long. Katie was a swimmer in high school, but when I picked up my efforts in the pool and she slacked off a bit, I got to the point where I was actually a little faster than her (for freestyle only - she could always whip me at butterfly, backstroke, or breast stroke - maybe because my technique in those strokes could only be described as… let's call it floundering). But those days are over, which is okay (really, it is, I'm not being sarcastic at all here, I have no problem with her being a better swimmer than me because she is a better swimmer than me) but I do get a little tired of hearing how hard "masters swimming" is as compared to "ordinary swimming" (which is what I do). So when she does speedwork in the pool with her "master's swimming group," she's "really, really tired," but when I go and do speedwork in the pool on my own, I'm not really, really tired (maybe I'm a little tired, but definitely not really tired) because I'm not a "master's swimmer." And she is. Oh well.
Another annoying commercial
I wasn't going to do this, but this particular commercial is so darned annoying, I just have to go off on it a bit. It's the one with Howie Long and some dorky little red-haired girls, who he says is "Really smart," and then they show the little middle seat of one vehicle, and she says, "That's a little girl seat. I'm a big girl," and then they show the vehicle they're endorsing and she says something like, "That's a big girl car," and Howie says, "See, I told you she was smart," and I just want to smack them both upside the head (although if I ever was actually in the same room with Howie Long, I wouldn't dream of smacking him upside the head because he's a very large, imposing person even though he makes stupid commercials). And now that I think of it, I wouldn't smack the little girl either, because that would just be wrong. Dang. I guess I'm stuck. But I do hate the commercial.
How low can they go?
Remember Willie Ames? Well I do, because I used to watch him on "Eight is Enough" (although I didn't ever watch him on "Charles in Charge - mainly because I thought Scott Baio was really, really annoying). Apparently things haven't gone so well for Willie, which is actually kind of sad, but there was a story today on the internet about him having a garage sale to try to raise money to pay off his debts. There's something about this that just makes me sad - not that he had a garage sale, because I've had several of those, and I don't think there's anything desperately wrong with trying to raise a little money while getting rid of some junk - but that he was so in debt and was suicidal after his wife left him and his house was in foreclosure. I suppose there's also a part of me that feels the urge to gloat a little bit (as in - Ha! This famous actor/teen idol has a rotten life and I don't) but that just seems petty and mean and makes me a little sad that it would even enter my mind.
That's all for now, so until next time may your feet remain fleet, may your fingers remain nimble, and may your nose keep it's eyes on your toes.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
Presidents, Cats, and Spring Break
Presidential Me
Apparently, President Obama made an appearance on "The Late Show with Jay Leno" last week. The next day, one of my students informed me that he'd watched the show, and as he was watching, he couldn't help but notice how much Obama reminded him of me. "Not when he's being all political, but when he's just relaxed and talking normally, he sounds just like you." When he said this, it occurred to me that I considered it a compliment, whereas if the same conversation had happened a year ago, I might have felt as if I'd just been disrespected. What a difference a year can make.
When the mice are away, the cats will play
Last week was Spring Break for the kids, so all three of them wrangled an invitation to spend a couple of days at their grandparents' casa (where, apparently, all they did was watch movies, eat, and play on the computer). Anyway, this meant that Katie and I were on our own for several days in an empty house. When Connor found out about this plan, he looked at me and said, "I know what you and Mom are going to do - you're going to have 'loving time.'" Actually, all we did was watch TV, eat, and play on the computer.
Speaking of cats
We now have a new/old cat. More specifically, she's a donated cat, that was donated because the people she was living with got a dog, which freaked out the cat so bad that she started hiding under the bed all the time and only coming out on rare occasions, so they figured she might be better off in a house where she would be the only pet. We've had the cat for a week now, and I've only actually seen her (out in the open) a couple of times. Usually, she's hiding under a bed, curled up in a closet, burrowed under blankets behind our couch, or cowering behind the dryer. I do see her every night, though, because it's my job to extract her from under our bed (apparently, I'm the only one that has long enough arms to reach her). Hopefully, she will become a little less crazy once she gets used to her new setting. Connor likes her, though, and called home several times when he was at his grandparents (maybe during breaks between movies?) to check up on the cat. To be honest, I think Connor and this cat have an awful lot in common. Not sure if that's good or not.
TNT update
Our group continues to pile up the miles, although quite a few people are struggling with the fundraising this go-round. I'm guessing this is related to the economic mess we're in right now, but I'm hoping everyone is able to stick with it and pull through - mainly because of situations like this one… One of our participants had a tough time with the mileage (which was 12 miles). She was running that day to honor an acquaintance (a little girl who lost her battle against cancer when she was 12) and the connection between the girl's age and the mileage that day was especially meaningful to her and she really wanted to have a good run. Unfortunately, she ran out of steam after about 10 miles and struggled to finish - which led her to feel like she'd, "let a dead girl down." As we assured her that what she'd done was heroic and that she shouldn't feel anything but pride, it struck me, as it often does, how much we all carry around inside ourselves that we rarely let out. Sometimes people amaze me.
Last week, one of my readers (I have "readers?" - it feels really weird to type that in - maybe since this is "not a blog" all of you are actually "not readers"?) posted a comment asking why I wrap up with a summary - as in, don't I think people remember what they just read - so we'll switch things up just a bit this time 'round and close with an honest and sincere hope that until next time, your vegetables remain fresh, your brackets remain unsullied, and your chameleons remain colorful.
Apparently, President Obama made an appearance on "The Late Show with Jay Leno" last week. The next day, one of my students informed me that he'd watched the show, and as he was watching, he couldn't help but notice how much Obama reminded him of me. "Not when he's being all political, but when he's just relaxed and talking normally, he sounds just like you." When he said this, it occurred to me that I considered it a compliment, whereas if the same conversation had happened a year ago, I might have felt as if I'd just been disrespected. What a difference a year can make.
When the mice are away, the cats will play
Last week was Spring Break for the kids, so all three of them wrangled an invitation to spend a couple of days at their grandparents' casa (where, apparently, all they did was watch movies, eat, and play on the computer). Anyway, this meant that Katie and I were on our own for several days in an empty house. When Connor found out about this plan, he looked at me and said, "I know what you and Mom are going to do - you're going to have 'loving time.'" Actually, all we did was watch TV, eat, and play on the computer.
Speaking of cats
We now have a new/old cat. More specifically, she's a donated cat, that was donated because the people she was living with got a dog, which freaked out the cat so bad that she started hiding under the bed all the time and only coming out on rare occasions, so they figured she might be better off in a house where she would be the only pet. We've had the cat for a week now, and I've only actually seen her (out in the open) a couple of times. Usually, she's hiding under a bed, curled up in a closet, burrowed under blankets behind our couch, or cowering behind the dryer. I do see her every night, though, because it's my job to extract her from under our bed (apparently, I'm the only one that has long enough arms to reach her). Hopefully, she will become a little less crazy once she gets used to her new setting. Connor likes her, though, and called home several times when he was at his grandparents (maybe during breaks between movies?) to check up on the cat. To be honest, I think Connor and this cat have an awful lot in common. Not sure if that's good or not.
TNT update
Our group continues to pile up the miles, although quite a few people are struggling with the fundraising this go-round. I'm guessing this is related to the economic mess we're in right now, but I'm hoping everyone is able to stick with it and pull through - mainly because of situations like this one… One of our participants had a tough time with the mileage (which was 12 miles). She was running that day to honor an acquaintance (a little girl who lost her battle against cancer when she was 12) and the connection between the girl's age and the mileage that day was especially meaningful to her and she really wanted to have a good run. Unfortunately, she ran out of steam after about 10 miles and struggled to finish - which led her to feel like she'd, "let a dead girl down." As we assured her that what she'd done was heroic and that she shouldn't feel anything but pride, it struck me, as it often does, how much we all carry around inside ourselves that we rarely let out. Sometimes people amaze me.
Last week, one of my readers (I have "readers?" - it feels really weird to type that in - maybe since this is "not a blog" all of you are actually "not readers"?) posted a comment asking why I wrap up with a summary - as in, don't I think people remember what they just read - so we'll switch things up just a bit this time 'round and close with an honest and sincere hope that until next time, your vegetables remain fresh, your brackets remain unsullied, and your chameleons remain colorful.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Spelling, Driving, Reading, and Telephoning (but not all at once)
Another spelling faux-pas - perhaps
Apparently, I misspelled the name of the author of Twilight in my last posting (thanks to Sandy for pointing this out) because it's supposed be Stephenie Meyer rather than Stephanie Meyer - although in my defense, I think we can all agree that the proper way to spell Stephanie is S-t-e-p-h-a-n-i-e and that the mistake for this misspelling actually belongs at the feet of her parents, who must have been the ones that spelled her name wrong when they named her. So in addition to being a pretty poor writer, she also has a misspelled name. Kind of like when people spell Natalie as Natalee, or Brian as Bryan. Poor, mixed up people.
You are what you drive - or not
During my 4th period class the other day (8th grade) there were only about 8 students because the majority were off playing music for some sort of band shinding - so they were working on various things and chatting about various things, and one of them said, "Hey Mr. B., why don't you take us to Starbucks?" (which, if you're a regular reader of this site, you know is not going to happen because I don't go to Starbucks, plus I'm a responsible and serious educator who would never take students to Starbucks even if I wanted to - which I don't). So I said, "Sure, I'll just throw the lot of you in the back of my truck," (which was completely sarcastic - in case you're wondering why I would agree after saying that I'd never do such a thing). This started a whole conversation about how they'd never imagined that I had a truck, and they couldn't picture me driving a truck because they figured I drove some kind of compact, sporty car. Then they asked what color it was, and I said, "Well, it's mostly rust, but it used to be blue," and they were surprised by that because they thought I would drive a red car. Then they asked if I had any other cars, and I didn't say anything, because I figured if they found out that my other two cars are mini-vans (which I often get teased about. but I'm secure enough that it doesn't bother me - at all), all of their illusions would be shattered and I would have destroyed any last shreds of innocence and childhood that still remained in the corners of their souls.
You are what you read - and watch on TV
I got quite excited the other evening, because I was watching an episode of a new show called "Dollhouse," and I suddenly realized that the story was based on a great short story called, "The Most Dangerous Game," which I read with my 8th graders, and which involves a crazy guy who lives on an island and hunts people. So I said something to Katie like, "Hey, this is just like 'The Most Dangerous Game!'" and she said something like, "That's nice dear." Then I found out that the character's name in the episode was Richard Connell, which just happens to be the same name as the author of, "The Most Dangerous Game," so I said something like, "Oh my gosh, that guy's name is Richard Connell! That's the author of 'The Most Dangerous Game!'" and Katie said something like, "That's nice dear," which made me realize that I really am kind of an English-Teacher-Nerd. But I think that's a good thing.
Her name was Lola, she was a French bulldog…
Caitlyn, who is home for Spring Break, is dog/baby-sitting a puppy for someone Katie knows, so we have this very strange creature in our house this weekend. For some reason, she loves me - a lot. Actually, she seems to love pretty much everybody, and she follows people around and curls up on laps and stares at people with her creepy big eyes and freaks them out. She looks a lot like Yoda, actually. Anyway, Katie's friend pampers the dog like nobody's business, and when they went to pick up the dog, she said something along the lines of, "Maybe having Lola around will convince your husband (me) to get a dog." Yeah, she's cute and cuddly and pretty funny, but she pees on the floor and eats tortoise poop, so I have to say that I'm not convinced. At all.
Sleepless in Seattle
We had our TNT practice at Sabino Canyon this morning, and one of our participants wasn't sure how to get there, so she figured she could call one of the coaches to get directions. So she just happened to choose to call Lauren. Normally, this would be fine, but on this particular day, Lauren happened to be in Seattle rather than Tucson. So Lauren picked up the phone, and the participant (who shall remain nameless) said, "Lauren, this is Margie," (oops - guess I just let the cat out of the bag). Then there was a long pause. Then Lauren asked, "What time is it?" At this point, the anonymous participant figured out that Lauren had been asleep, then she found out that Lauren was in Seattle, and finally, she found out how to get to Sabino Canyon. So all's well that ends well. Except, I guess, for Lauren.
That's probably more than enough for now, so until next time, may your misspellings be purposeful, may your mini-vans run smoothly, and may your phone calls be answered in a timely and courteous fashion.
Apparently, I misspelled the name of the author of Twilight in my last posting (thanks to Sandy for pointing this out) because it's supposed be Stephenie Meyer rather than Stephanie Meyer - although in my defense, I think we can all agree that the proper way to spell Stephanie is S-t-e-p-h-a-n-i-e and that the mistake for this misspelling actually belongs at the feet of her parents, who must have been the ones that spelled her name wrong when they named her. So in addition to being a pretty poor writer, she also has a misspelled name. Kind of like when people spell Natalie as Natalee, or Brian as Bryan. Poor, mixed up people.
You are what you drive - or not
During my 4th period class the other day (8th grade) there were only about 8 students because the majority were off playing music for some sort of band shinding - so they were working on various things and chatting about various things, and one of them said, "Hey Mr. B., why don't you take us to Starbucks?" (which, if you're a regular reader of this site, you know is not going to happen because I don't go to Starbucks, plus I'm a responsible and serious educator who would never take students to Starbucks even if I wanted to - which I don't). So I said, "Sure, I'll just throw the lot of you in the back of my truck," (which was completely sarcastic - in case you're wondering why I would agree after saying that I'd never do such a thing). This started a whole conversation about how they'd never imagined that I had a truck, and they couldn't picture me driving a truck because they figured I drove some kind of compact, sporty car. Then they asked what color it was, and I said, "Well, it's mostly rust, but it used to be blue," and they were surprised by that because they thought I would drive a red car. Then they asked if I had any other cars, and I didn't say anything, because I figured if they found out that my other two cars are mini-vans (which I often get teased about. but I'm secure enough that it doesn't bother me - at all), all of their illusions would be shattered and I would have destroyed any last shreds of innocence and childhood that still remained in the corners of their souls.
You are what you read - and watch on TV
I got quite excited the other evening, because I was watching an episode of a new show called "Dollhouse," and I suddenly realized that the story was based on a great short story called, "The Most Dangerous Game," which I read with my 8th graders, and which involves a crazy guy who lives on an island and hunts people. So I said something to Katie like, "Hey, this is just like 'The Most Dangerous Game!'" and she said something like, "That's nice dear." Then I found out that the character's name in the episode was Richard Connell, which just happens to be the same name as the author of, "The Most Dangerous Game," so I said something like, "Oh my gosh, that guy's name is Richard Connell! That's the author of 'The Most Dangerous Game!'" and Katie said something like, "That's nice dear," which made me realize that I really am kind of an English-Teacher-Nerd. But I think that's a good thing.
Her name was Lola, she was a French bulldog…
Caitlyn, who is home for Spring Break, is dog/baby-sitting a puppy for someone Katie knows, so we have this very strange creature in our house this weekend. For some reason, she loves me - a lot. Actually, she seems to love pretty much everybody, and she follows people around and curls up on laps and stares at people with her creepy big eyes and freaks them out. She looks a lot like Yoda, actually. Anyway, Katie's friend pampers the dog like nobody's business, and when they went to pick up the dog, she said something along the lines of, "Maybe having Lola around will convince your husband (me) to get a dog." Yeah, she's cute and cuddly and pretty funny, but she pees on the floor and eats tortoise poop, so I have to say that I'm not convinced. At all.
Sleepless in Seattle
We had our TNT practice at Sabino Canyon this morning, and one of our participants wasn't sure how to get there, so she figured she could call one of the coaches to get directions. So she just happened to choose to call Lauren. Normally, this would be fine, but on this particular day, Lauren happened to be in Seattle rather than Tucson. So Lauren picked up the phone, and the participant (who shall remain nameless) said, "Lauren, this is Margie," (oops - guess I just let the cat out of the bag). Then there was a long pause. Then Lauren asked, "What time is it?" At this point, the anonymous participant figured out that Lauren had been asleep, then she found out that Lauren was in Seattle, and finally, she found out how to get to Sabino Canyon. So all's well that ends well. Except, I guess, for Lauren.
That's probably more than enough for now, so until next time, may your misspellings be purposeful, may your mini-vans run smoothly, and may your phone calls be answered in a timely and courteous fashion.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Greeting Cards, Stephen King, and Circular Thinking
Just another one of those Hallmark moments
Yesterday, I was sitting on the couch grading papers when Carrie walked into the room. I crooked my finger at her, signaling her to come over to me, then said, "Hello, my cute, sweet, wonderful girl," and gave her a big hug. Connor, who was watching all of this said, "What about me?" So I crooked my finger at him, signaling him to come over to me, then said, "Hello, my cute, sweet, wonderful girl," and held out my arms to hug him. He stepped forward, then paused and said, "Hey, that's not funny." But it was.
A brief note about spelling (speling?)
As I was typing the section above, I first spelled "signaling" with two l's (signalling). Then I changed it to one l. Then back to two l's. Then I couldn't decide which it was, so I googled "signalling spelling" and found out that spelling it with one l (signaling) is correct in American-English, but spelling it with two l's (signalling) is correct in British-English. How about that? And isn't it weird that I actually think that's pretty interesting?
A little bit of Twilight bashing
This is probably somewhat risky, because there are quite a few people out there who absolutely love these books, because they're so wonderful and amazing and descriptive and mesmerizing and… you get the picture. I, on the other hand, think the whole Twilight series is pretty bad. I realize I'm not even close to the target audience for these books, but I've read (and appreciated) my share of chick lit, and these (again, in my opinion) are just really bad. I've always wondered, though, if at least some of this isn't fueled by my own jealousy related to Stephanie Meyer's meteoric rise to literary success, which I freely admit that I do envy. But then this morning, I was reading an interview with Stephen King (who I really enjoyed years ago, but I think has kind of fallen off in his recent efforts, and who I also envy for his meteoric rise to literary success) and he was asked what he thought about J.K. Rowling and Stephanie Meyer, and he said that the difference between them was that Rowling was a really good writer, but, "Stephanie Meyer can't write worth a darn. She's not very good." So there you are. The King has spoken. Long live the King.
Do you ever wonder?
Sometimes I do (which often drives my lovely wife crazy - such as when I ask things like, "Why did you leave the light on?" or, "Why don't you put the oatmeal away when you're done?" or stuff like that). Here are a couple of things I've wondered about this week:
•Am I getting grumpier, or just more honest as I get older - I seem to be much more likely to say what I'm thinking without considering the fallout - and is that a good thing or a bad thing?
•Why do some of us agonize over every little thing, while other people seem to be able to face into true adversity with unbelievable grace and dignity? Honestly, my life is pretty easy, but I still find myself getting worked up about really stupid things, and then I run into people who, quite frankly, make me feel a little bit ashamed. For example, last week, I was swimming in the lane next to a woman who was probably about my age. She didn't have any hair, so I immediately wondered if she was in treatment for cancer, and as I eavesdropped on her conversation with someone else, I found out she did have cancer, and that she was terminal, and that she was told by her doctor last September that she would be lucky if she made it to 2009, but here she was in March swimming in the lane next to me, and she told the person that she wasn't ready to die yet because she's a single mom and she has a 15-year-old daughter who needs her. Never did she say anything that made me think she felt sorry for herself (although I'm sure there are times when she does). She just seemed cheerful and positive, and at that moment, I really wished I could be more like her. Maybe I can.
Facebooking
I've been on Facebook for a couple of months now, and I have to say that the whole thing is kind of strange. Not necessarily bad-strange, just weird-strange. Actually, I kind of like being able to skim around on the surface of so many peoples' lives, and it's almost like traveling (or travelling, if you're in England) in a time machine when I connect with some folks who I haven't seen or heard from since high school, but I always feel a little awkward when I'm posting something or when I send out one of those friend requests (just like I always feel a little awkward when I write one of these entries - evidenced by my inability to call this electronic posting by it's true title). I mean, what if I send a request and they turn it down? Or what if people read my update and say, "What a loser," and then forward it to their "real friends" and chat about what a loser I am (don't worry, I'm really not that insecure, I'm just hyperbolizing for emphasis). Anyhow, I'm pretty sure my discomfort is a generational thing, because the "digital natives" seem to be completely comfortable with it, but as a "digital immigrant" it all feels a little - strange. So whenever I post an update, I always wonder if anybody actually cares (and why should they?) but then I figure maybe there are other people feeling just a little awkward about this too, but they like skimming the surface of my life, so what the heck? Which brings us full circle in this analysis and gets us no further down the road than we were when we started, so I guess this last section was all pretty pointless. Oh well, I guess this is kind of like when you step up to the plate and pop one up to the infield, then walk back to the dugout with your shoulders slumped and your eyes cast down. Tally ho.
Quick update
Most of our TNT group put in 8 miles yesterday - which was the furthest distance run by several participants. I have to say that there is nothing like watching someone do something they never believed was possible. When they run in that last fifty yards, their eyes are gleaming, their faces are beaming, and their supporters are screaming. It is truly awesome. As for me, my leg is feeling much better - I still can't run very fast, but I managed 15 miles with very little discomfort so I'm feeling pretty good.
I see that it's time for me to go put in my laps at the pool, so until next time, may your Hallmark moments be memorable and touching, your attitude remain positive, and your ramblings come home to roost.
Yesterday, I was sitting on the couch grading papers when Carrie walked into the room. I crooked my finger at her, signaling her to come over to me, then said, "Hello, my cute, sweet, wonderful girl," and gave her a big hug. Connor, who was watching all of this said, "What about me?" So I crooked my finger at him, signaling him to come over to me, then said, "Hello, my cute, sweet, wonderful girl," and held out my arms to hug him. He stepped forward, then paused and said, "Hey, that's not funny." But it was.
A brief note about spelling (speling?)
As I was typing the section above, I first spelled "signaling" with two l's (signalling). Then I changed it to one l. Then back to two l's. Then I couldn't decide which it was, so I googled "signalling spelling" and found out that spelling it with one l (signaling) is correct in American-English, but spelling it with two l's (signalling) is correct in British-English. How about that? And isn't it weird that I actually think that's pretty interesting?
A little bit of Twilight bashing
This is probably somewhat risky, because there are quite a few people out there who absolutely love these books, because they're so wonderful and amazing and descriptive and mesmerizing and… you get the picture. I, on the other hand, think the whole Twilight series is pretty bad. I realize I'm not even close to the target audience for these books, but I've read (and appreciated) my share of chick lit, and these (again, in my opinion) are just really bad. I've always wondered, though, if at least some of this isn't fueled by my own jealousy related to Stephanie Meyer's meteoric rise to literary success, which I freely admit that I do envy. But then this morning, I was reading an interview with Stephen King (who I really enjoyed years ago, but I think has kind of fallen off in his recent efforts, and who I also envy for his meteoric rise to literary success) and he was asked what he thought about J.K. Rowling and Stephanie Meyer, and he said that the difference between them was that Rowling was a really good writer, but, "Stephanie Meyer can't write worth a darn. She's not very good." So there you are. The King has spoken. Long live the King.
Do you ever wonder?
Sometimes I do (which often drives my lovely wife crazy - such as when I ask things like, "Why did you leave the light on?" or, "Why don't you put the oatmeal away when you're done?" or stuff like that). Here are a couple of things I've wondered about this week:
•Am I getting grumpier, or just more honest as I get older - I seem to be much more likely to say what I'm thinking without considering the fallout - and is that a good thing or a bad thing?
•Why do some of us agonize over every little thing, while other people seem to be able to face into true adversity with unbelievable grace and dignity? Honestly, my life is pretty easy, but I still find myself getting worked up about really stupid things, and then I run into people who, quite frankly, make me feel a little bit ashamed. For example, last week, I was swimming in the lane next to a woman who was probably about my age. She didn't have any hair, so I immediately wondered if she was in treatment for cancer, and as I eavesdropped on her conversation with someone else, I found out she did have cancer, and that she was terminal, and that she was told by her doctor last September that she would be lucky if she made it to 2009, but here she was in March swimming in the lane next to me, and she told the person that she wasn't ready to die yet because she's a single mom and she has a 15-year-old daughter who needs her. Never did she say anything that made me think she felt sorry for herself (although I'm sure there are times when she does). She just seemed cheerful and positive, and at that moment, I really wished I could be more like her. Maybe I can.
Facebooking
I've been on Facebook for a couple of months now, and I have to say that the whole thing is kind of strange. Not necessarily bad-strange, just weird-strange. Actually, I kind of like being able to skim around on the surface of so many peoples' lives, and it's almost like traveling (or travelling, if you're in England) in a time machine when I connect with some folks who I haven't seen or heard from since high school, but I always feel a little awkward when I'm posting something or when I send out one of those friend requests (just like I always feel a little awkward when I write one of these entries - evidenced by my inability to call this electronic posting by it's true title). I mean, what if I send a request and they turn it down? Or what if people read my update and say, "What a loser," and then forward it to their "real friends" and chat about what a loser I am (don't worry, I'm really not that insecure, I'm just hyperbolizing for emphasis). Anyhow, I'm pretty sure my discomfort is a generational thing, because the "digital natives" seem to be completely comfortable with it, but as a "digital immigrant" it all feels a little - strange. So whenever I post an update, I always wonder if anybody actually cares (and why should they?) but then I figure maybe there are other people feeling just a little awkward about this too, but they like skimming the surface of my life, so what the heck? Which brings us full circle in this analysis and gets us no further down the road than we were when we started, so I guess this last section was all pretty pointless. Oh well, I guess this is kind of like when you step up to the plate and pop one up to the infield, then walk back to the dugout with your shoulders slumped and your eyes cast down. Tally ho.
Quick update
Most of our TNT group put in 8 miles yesterday - which was the furthest distance run by several participants. I have to say that there is nothing like watching someone do something they never believed was possible. When they run in that last fifty yards, their eyes are gleaming, their faces are beaming, and their supporters are screaming. It is truly awesome. As for me, my leg is feeling much better - I still can't run very fast, but I managed 15 miles with very little discomfort so I'm feeling pretty good.
I see that it's time for me to go put in my laps at the pool, so until next time, may your Hallmark moments be memorable and touching, your attitude remain positive, and your ramblings come home to roost.
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