Zack.

I never wanted a dog.

and surely Jeannie didn't really want a dog either? i mean..why?!


I don't like cleaning up poop, i don't like people at dog parks, i certainly don't like other dog owners at dog parks, i don't like obligations, i don't like walking dogs, i don't like dog license plates, i don't like dog hair, i don't like almost everything that goes into have a dog.


But there we were, deep in the suburbs of seattle, at a lure coursing event looking at basenji's and getting ready to meet up with a prospective dog..and not just a dog, a basenji. (For those of you not in the know, basenji's are hypoallergenic and Jeannie, being allergic to dog's, they fit the bill.)

They are also, very smart, snarky, non-barking, curly tailed, sneaky, mischievous,  and cuddly.

That day, we didn't find our dog, but we did learn about a basenji rescue organization, called BRAT. and no doubt, that title, is very appropriate....and they, thankfully, connected us with Bob.

A so...another saturday later, we find ourselves driving to federal way...another suburb to the south to meet the Bob and his whole family of basenji's. Of his litter, one basenji in particular had come back to Bob after the first family, ill equipped for the wild ways of a basenji puppy, returned him.

(Note: i still didn't want a dog.)

When we got to Bob's house...a small rushing heard of bronze and white barkless dogs surrounded us. it was overwhelming! and wonderful i must admit. and of that little herd, there was one dog that was aloof, a little indifferent, and a little curious too. he also came up and put his head on my knee.


Enter: Zack. 

Or, as he was originally known: "Morning Thunder."

(every dog in the litter was named after a type of celestial seasoning tea.)

Oh, Boy.

Here we go. 

However, we didn't take a dog that day...but we had agreed that perhaps, just perhaps, if we could try having him over for a night, perhaps THEN we could decide if we wanted a dog..and if a dog wanted us.

I will never forget Bob coming over and letting Zack loose in our apartment. With his long horse like legs he walked the boundaries of our apartment, inspecting every knook, every basket, every opening for as yet, unfound treats, napkins or bones. Those were yet to come.

After one night...we gave him back. 

Still unsure. Still not certain. Still wondering if we were ready..if we were equipped  could we do it. was he right? did we have the time? could we leave the house? what? if? maybe? 

We called bob..he response was "you guys are great! you'll do fine!"

Looks like we got a dog.

(Note: i still really didn't want a dog..but, someone...and that person would be Jeannie, really wanted a dog...and there was no way that i was going to deny her something that made her, clearly, so very happy.)

But, here i am. almost 8years later, shooting video on my phone of him as i walk my dog around the neighborhood with his front boots clomping on the side walk and his self-chewed-up orange fleece pullover flapping as he walks and weaves in and out of the grass sniffing for his next urine target. more than a few tears on this walk.

My last 8 years with him have been a personal and powerful instruction in responsibly, patience, and love. Before he came along i didn't really understand what it meant to put something ahead of your own needs. The number of weekends or evenings where Jeannie and I wanted to spontaneously take off for an overnight adventure on the coast or a trip to vancouver are countless...but so were the sleepy sunday morning where the soft curl of a living cinnamon bun warmed behind the crook of your knees as you questioned the need to ever get out from under the covers. He grounded us in all of the best ways.

No doubt...the 3am walks in winter seattle drizzle as he not-so-secretly deposited diarrhea on our neighbors lawn..and the unspoken look he and i shared when we quickly scooted back inside...those ground us all the same.

He has not been an easy dog.

He has chewed the toes out out of more smart woool socks than i can count...and Jeannie's jeans..well, i'll let her tell you about those.

His begging for food when we eat...his jumping and running around the house nipping at us when one of us leaves the house...scratches on my stomach from his claws when he stretches out across the bed in the middle of the night...all of those things, well, they're part of having a dog.

these are some of those other things that are part of having Zack as your dog...and i'm sure i'll add more as i remember them:

• he was the fastest dog at the dog park, except when he found a sunny post, usually on higher ground, where he would sit, and just watch.
• the sun was his closest friend
• he sniff's stella's feet every morning
• he responds to the phrase "where's jeannie" every time..by coming to full alert, ears up, nose out, eyes on full scan.
• he can smell rain and will not go outside
• to get him to come into the water at the dog park, both jeannie and i had to wade out into the lake first..and then, and only then would he tentatively walk out until the water almost touch his belly. he hated it.
• we once thought he ate a bag of shallots...took him to the vet...they gave him charcoal to eat..he had to wear a diaper and was so drugged up that he'd walk across the floor and stop to sit every few feet to re-evaluate
• he makes a wooof sound everytime i've been gone for more than 8 hours.
• he has to spin around 3 times before he will sit down
• he moves pillows to nest
• i've had the same picture of him in a santa outfit on my phone for 5 years. even after Stella. he holds that spot.
• he can fart like no other animal
• he knows i'm making chicken before i've even turned on the oven
• we've fed him more different types of food that you'd think was possible for a dog to have
• i once took him on the ferry to orcas, and since he couldn't come in the cabin, and we were on foot, i had to hold him under my coat while he shivered the entire time. we bonded.
• he loves jeannie more than me
• he loves me more than jeannie
• he'll nip at you if you pick him up when he's cuddle on the couch. best to get a treat and distract him.
• we used to run back and forth through the house chasing each other until one of us got bored....almost always him. 
• he chews the eyes out of his stuff toy first. always..the..eyes...first..

And then, last winter, he started to limp. limping a serious way. in way that made us notice.

Finding out that the limping in his front right leg was permanent..and that it would never get better...and that his left leg was going to go the same way as his right...that was a hard day.

But we overcame! we whipped out our credit card and bought the best orthotic three thousand dollar custom molded boots you could buy for a dog. and they helped. for a long time. and they still help, but they're not enough. he needs surgery to help correct, but not heal his legs.

And now, well now, we have a baby. a very cute and very wonderful and very magical little creature that also poops, and cuddles, and if i could get her to poop in the yard, well, i'd do that too.

So we find ourselves here...in a place where we know that Zack...Zack...Zack...needs more care than we can provide, more money than we can procure, and more attention than we can give.

He needs a new home and thankfully, we have found that new home for him, via a friend, where he will get all of the attention in the world, the care that he needs, a warm fireplace in the winter, and plenty of sunlight in the summer.


and it breaks my heart hard to love a dog so much, that i never wanted.

get ready

we're going to restart this blog. for you. for us. for everyone.

Aaron & Jeannie

Good Neighbors Make Good Neighbors

Soon after we moved into the Minty a few years ago, our next door neighbor started chatting with me. I wouldn't talk to her about anything super personal, but we definitely became buddy-buddy. I liked chatting with her, and I thought she liked chatting with me too.

Then, all of a sudden, something changed. A couple of weeks ago, she stopped talking to me. Just...stopped. Total cold shoulder standoffish ignoring me type stuff. Don't have any idea why. All I know is, it really, really bothers me. Not because she and I were on a path to become best friends or anything. But because...because I haven't been treated like this since I was in high school. I haven't had someone obviously and intentionally just, like, ignore me and be rude to me in years. I am still nice to her, and say hi every time I see her. But, I mean, what the hell? We're both adults. What kind of grown-up thinks this is a good strategy?

And - here's the real reason this bugs me so much. You know what? People like me. I'm not trying to brag here, but the majority of the people I meet get along pretty well with me. And I get along well with them too. I like to spend a lot of my time alone. So I kind of need that hit of knowing people like me regularly. And one of the ways I get it is through social interactions, like with the people who live near me. My stupid neighbor is messing with that.

This whole thing actually gave me a new perspective on this story I completed right around the same time, about a guy whose teenage daughter suddenly started avoiding him. After my neighbor started giving me the cold shoulder, I felt an extra level of empathy for the guy. And I appreciated even more what he arrived at - he can't control the way his daughter treats him, no more than I can control how my neighbor treats me. Ultimately, while I'm bummed we don't get to be buds anymore, we only became friendly because of proximity. It's not that big of a loss. My reactions to her being all rude and standoffish are really, really, really all about me and my own need to be liked. So I guess that means I get to just deal with my own silliness around all this. And that means probably not asking her what happened, and why she started ignoring me in the first place. Because if I'm honest with myself, I just want to do that so I can fix whatever and get her to like me again. I don't actually care about whatever she might be going through. I think it's probably best to just let this go, and let her do what she needs to do - even if that means she acts like a teenager. It just doesn't have to affect me. I think that's the lesson.

Stupid neighbor.

What I'll Be Missing This Summer

The above image is a set of stairs not far from our house and our last apartment. Zack and I used to walk those steps almost every sunny day. It's one of the places that I felt belonged to us, because much of the time, we've been the only ones out walking those stairs, or the streets that connect to those stairs. For the past several years, we've lived in mainly residential neighborhoods. So when Zack and I would go on long, sprawling, exploratory walks, we'd mainly walk past houses and apartment buildings and condos. It might sound boring, but I love those walks. And Zack is an ideal companion for wandering. He does his own thing on his end of the leash, but he checks in with me regularly, sometimes by slowing down and leaning against me for pets, and sometimes just by looking around until he makes eye contact with me. Sometimes he finds a sunny spot and lets me know we need to sit in the grass and hang out for a while. Zack hates the cold and he hates rain even more, so sunny days are kind of doubly exciting. On sunny days, Zack makes it clear he wants to walk for a while. I have almost always been thrilled to oblige, even if it meant I was late for something else.

A couple days ago, I was walking by myself and came across those same stairs. And I found myself suddenly overcome with longing for my long wandering walks with Zack. That's because, over the last couple of months, we've discovered that it might be a long time before Zack can go for a long walk. In fact, he might never be able to go for a long walk again. That's because both of his front wrists are collapsing, and eventually, they will most likely collapse completely, which will make it very difficult and painful for him to walk at all. The condition is called canine carpal hyperextension. It's a condition that's not very common, but it's not entirely uncommon. It can happen because of an injury or because of a disease. (Zack's is probably from an injury.) And it's a condition that doesn't heal; it usually just gets worse.

We first started figuring out that Zack's wrists were collapsing a couple of months ago. And it's been tough. We talked about what might happen, and whether we were prepared to make the decision to put him to sleep if necessary. We also saw many, many vets, and Aa started researching canine carpal hyperextension like crazy. (I am extremely grateful to him for doing it.) During this process, we started learning about treatment options. The main one is a surgery that fuses Zack's wrist bones together. During recovery, the bones will hopefully grow together and make the ligaments and tendons that are failing irrelevant. He will lose range of motion, but he will be able to walk and do most of the other things he was able to do before the carpal hyperextension started. The surgery is has a high rate of success, but it's major enough that they can only do one leg at a time and the recovery can take 3 months. There's no guarantee his bones will heal correctly, and, of course, all surgery is risky. This is leaving aside the cost of the surgery. It's not cheap.

Our other option is for Zack to wear custom braces for the rest of his life on his two front legs. Our thinking was that the braces, coupled with regular physical therapy, could give him a lot of his active life back w/o the risks inherent in two big surgeries. There is a great animal rehab center in Shoreline, and over the past month, during our twice-weekly therapy visits, everyone there has fallen in love with Zack. So for a while, it seemed like we were on the right track. Then we got the braces.



They seem sort of crazy, don't they? But I can get them on him, and he's tolerating them for now, so we'll see how the next couple of months go. It does seem likely, though, that Zack will be getting the surgery at some point in the next year. And in the meantime, when he's not wearing the braces - he can't wear them all the time - he's still limping. His wrists are still collapsed. He doesn't seem to be in pain, which is really great. But he can only go outside to go to the bathroom - we can't let him do much else. And on the few sunny days we've had since this started, Zack's let me know that he wants to keep walking. He wants to wander with me. And I can't do it. It will hurt him if we try.

So here's the realization I had while I was looking at those stairs. We may never go on one of our long, wandering walks again, and that kind of breaks my heart. I am really, really hopeful we will again someday, though. And if these braces work out, and if the surgeries are successful, we totally could. But right now, I'm accepting that this summer cannot include the long, wandering walks that have become a kind of tradition for Zack and me. I won't feel like we own the quiet streets and beautiful overgrown weeds and secret staircases we discover and explore together. Please don't get me wrong - I am really grateful to have this little dog in my life. He's part of my family and I love him very much. I know Aa and I will do whatever we need to do to make sure he has a good life. But summer is coming, and I already miss those long, lovely walks with Zack so much.

Sympathy

I have food poisoning today. I feel awful. I will never, ever, ever eat fish tacos ever again. Boo.

Well, hello again

Hi there,

There are a bunch of reasons I haven't been posting here, which I don't particularly want to get into. Well, OK. There is one specific reason that I'm more than happy to get into. I've spent a lot of time making an 8-part radio series from stories people have told live onstage at my storytelling series, A Guide To Visitors. The whole series will live here when it's done. Right now, I only have one more hour to complete; it'll air next week. Then, nearly a year of work and planning is over. I find myself feeling sad that it's almost over. I have loved going through the nearly 9 years of old stories I had recorded, and listening to each story. I have loved hearing these people's voices on the radio. So many of the people who have told stories for this project over the years have become very special to me. They're not quite friends, because we don't really hang out socially. But they have all agreed to trust me and my co-producers enough to get up in front of a bunch of strangers and tell very personal stories about themselves. I keep thinking about what an honor it is that so many people have agreed to do this with us. How kind of amazing it is that we're still doing this after 9 years - and our audiences have grown, our stable of return storytellers has grown, it's all grown. I just love that I get to do this. I don't really make any money at it. It's not my job. But I love doing it so much. I will miss making this radio series, but it's gotten me fired up to do some other things with these stories. I guess the "other things" will be what I spend my energy on in this coming year. It's good to be exhausted when your energy is being used on things you love.

Ah, and speaking of spending energy on things you love, I spent some time getting my dog into a Yoda costume this past weekend. Worth every second. (I think he would disagree.)

Paul Harvey Starkey 1922-2010

Grandpa died this morning. these are my favorite picks. Among the many great things he did in his life, he taught me my first guitar chords (C/Am/G). i learned much more than that from him of course, but that is what popped in my head this morning. a few pictures...



He grew up in rural Oklahoma and to earn extra money (and it was probably very fun) he would play pie dances. He and some other musicians would set up in someones living room or barn, they'd roll up the carpet, the ladies would bake pies, and people would dance. He could play the fiddle, the guitar or the piano. The violin was his main instrument though.



He was also trained as a fighter pilot and was stationed in the pacific during WWII. I think he spent a lot of time on the beach in hawaii for the most part. he was very lucky.



I like this picture quite a bit. it's fuzzy, it's from the 80's, i look like i'm crazy. but i remember the day very vividly. Grandma was taking the picture. I spent a lot of my childhood hanging out at their house because it was 1. fun 2. they spoiled me and 3. the house was always filled with laughter and jokes and was a very safe and easy place to be. no pressure from them to do anything other than just be. this picture represents one day out of 100's of days just like it. Whenever i needed something (whether i needed or wanted is probably debatable in retrospect...:) he always had a wallet of five dollar bills that would open up for me.

He always told me that i was his favorite grandson. i was of course, his only grandson. :)

Generous and funny and wise.

good man he was.

What I've Learned After 6 Days (And Counting!) Of Having The Flu

(taken by Aa during Day 5)

-Didn't realize how often Aa and I yell from one room to another to communicate. Then the flu took my voice and I have had to remain silent while Aa yelled some question at me. I don't think this is some grand lesson about speaking more gently and softly. I just want my fucking voice again so I can yell back.

-My dog normally hangs close to me when I'm in the house. But I've had a fever for 6 days now, which means I'm warmer than usual. Zack loves this. He has abandoned his usual cold-weather spot next to the heating vent to stretch out, stuck to my side like glue when I'm lying on the couch or in bed (that is, all the time). He is currently lying right up against my right thigh, with his head on my leg. I used to think I'd never get tired of Zack cuddling up next to me. Wrong! I cannot wait until my body temperature returns to normal and my dog stops treating me like his own personal space heater.

-I will never get sick of macaroni and cheese or miso soup. Never, ever, ever.

-Coffee has tasted like shit since I got sick. Don't think I'm not mad about this.

-I am deeply, deeply grateful for buying a house 20 feet away from a video store. Also, big thanks to Peter Jackson for making like a 28 hour version of The Lord Of The Rings, and for making it both awesome and kind of easy to make fun of. It has made this weekend kind of enjoyable.

-Generally, movie series are good moves when sick for several days. The Bourne movies? Good, good, and good. The Ocean movies? Good, good, and phoned in. I know the X Men movies would also be good but Aa reminds me I rented those after that relay race I did in July and he needs a few more months before getting into that world again. Maybe we can watch the Terminator movies next.

-If we owned Arrested Development we probably would have saved a lot of money in DVD rental fees this week.

-Aa has been less sick than me this whole time - no fever, no crazy ass sore throat. So he's done pretty much all the work around the house to make it livable and not Convalescence / Scary Transient / Stinky, Fetid Garbage Collection Central. He's also taken care of me, and been very kind, gentle, patient, and funny. This is a lesson re-learned: I am so super lucky.

-Plain, full fat yogurt is the best thing ever on a sore throat. For real. It beats ice cream even.

-When your neighbor sees you coming back from the doctor and she asks if you're sick and you tell her you have the flu and then she recoils and makes a cross with her arms even though you're ten feet away, it's incredibly tempting to walk up to her and blow your flu breath in her face. Totally a mean thing to do. But incredibly tempting nonetheless.

Things I've been thinking about since my grandma died, in random order

A week and a half ago, my grandmother Genevieve Yandel passed away in her sleep at home. She was going to be 103 this December. As deaths go, hers was a good one. As lives go, I think overall hers was pretty rich. Since she passed, I've had just a mess of thoughts, memories, and realizations bouncing around in through my head. I list them here, in no particular order.

-I think I believed she'd always be around. Every time she celebrated another birthday, it lent some credence to that belief.

-My grandma made this amazing date-nut bread every year for Christmas. Only the adults received the bread as a Christmas gift. It was coveted, and it was delicious. I can remember my dad savoring that bread on Christmas morning, and my uncles partly-jokingly taking small loaves of bread away from each other every year at the family Christmas party. She baked the bread in soup cans. A couple of years into my relationship with Aa, grandma gave us a few loaves of date-nut bread as a Christmas gift. It was the first time she'd ever given me some of that bread. It felt like a huge rite of passage for me, and a recognition of my relationship with Aa. We weren't married, and several of my relatives focused on that when they saw us at Christmas. My Grandma Yandel never asked me why we weren't married yet. She just gave us date-nut bread.

-She had ten kids and 39 grandkids. My cousin Chris and his wife are expecting great-grandchild number 50. That's 99 direct descendants, so far.

-Her oldest son, my Uncle George, was apparently a bit of a tough guy back in the day. He would bring home boxes of shirts and once he brought home a bumper pool table. He actually told his younger siblings those things fell off the back of a truck.

-My grandfather, also named George, died more than 30 years ago. But he was once on a sports game show, called Around The Bases. It was all about baseball. He came in second to a young blind man whose final answer was actually incorrect, but my grandpa didn't want to point that out. He won a big ironing machine.

-All ten kids and both parents had to share one bathroom. One. Bathroom.

-There are many strangely-named businesses in the south suburbs of Chicago and the south side. These include a bar called Deja Brew, a superstore of some kind called Hobo, and two deeply depressing Chinese places: Panda Hut, and Asia China Buffet.

-I think the legacy my grandparents left is fucking amazing. Their ten kids - my dad and my aunts and uncles - are ten of the most decent people I know. I am really, really proud to be a Yandel.

-My grandma was 14 years old when the 19th Amendment, giving women the right to vote, was added to the US Constitution.

-I wish I'd asked her a ton more questions.

-Because of a piece I'm doing at work and the annual ghost stories show for AGTV, I have been thinking about ghosts and hauntings a lot. She would be just a totally delightful ghost to have around.

One Year Ago

Aaron's Vows
I vow to listen to you and really, really hear you
I vow to admit I'm wrong...sometimes
I vow to make you tea or coffee in the mornings (ADDED LATER: at least 3x per week)
I vow to help you in any way I can
I vow to always speak the truth to you, and to sometimes shut my mouth too
I vow to challenge you, and to accept your challenges in return
I vow to trust you, when I feel I can trust no one
I vow to walk the dog more than I do now, but probably less than you want
***BONUS SPONTANEOUS VOW!!!*** I vow to cook you more vegetarian food
I already love you, so I can't vow that, but I do want to tell you I love you very much, and you're my best friend too.

Jeannie's Vows
I vow to be less grumpy in the mornings, and to let it go when you're grumpy in the mornings
I vow to challenge you, even when you don't want to be challenged, and to accept your challenges
I vow to keep trying to make you laugh, and to laugh a lot with you
I vow to keep being your girlfriend
I vow to really, honestly try to like olives
I vow not to take my crappy mood out on you
I vow to always, always have your back
I love you very, very much. You're my best friend in the world.

Two Farmers' Market Transactions That Felt More Like Drug Deals

1. I'm at my sister's farmers' market with her in Lincoln. It's a Sunday afternoon and we're looking for eggs. The nice man at the health food store told us to look for a guy named Mark. "He's got a blond ponytail, a red cap, and a light t-shirt on". My sister and I walk to the end of the market and only see one guy who sort of matches that description. He's standing at a stall with two young women. His eyes are shielded by reflective sunglasses. His arms are crossed across his chest, and he's watching people walk by. His red cap has NASCAR across the front. We approach the stall.

ME AND SISTER: "Hi, do you guys sell eggs?"
GIRLS: "Uh, no. Sorry!"
ME AND SISTER (glancing over at NASCAR ponytail): "Ok. Thanks!"
[awkward pause, where neither my sister nor me makes a move to leave]
NASCAR PONYTAIL: "I sell eggs."
ME AND SISTER: "Oh, great!"
NASCAR PONYTAIL: "Follow me". (takes us to a second location across the market) "I don't advertise. Sometimes I have one dozen. Other times I have two dozen. Usually I sell out. But I never put a sign up."
SISTER (glancing at me): "OK. Um, how much for a dozen?"
NASCAR PONYTAIL: "Two-fifty. I don't always have them this late. I usually sell out. But I don't put a sign up."
SISTER (shifting Wondernephew Max to me so she can grab the eggs): "Alright. Well, thanks!"

2. I'm at a Wednesday farmers market in Seattle. Aa has asked me to pick up some raw butter from a stall where he usually buys it at a different market on Sunday. I see the stall and approach the dude behind the counter, who is not the dude we buy from on Sundays.

ME: "Hi! Do you have any butter?"
DUDE: "Uh...we're not really allowed to sell it openly. We usually call it dog food."
ME: "Oh."
[pause]
ME: "Um, do you have any dog food?"
DUDE (looking at me with a combination of annoyance and pity): "No. I don't. We don't usually have it at this market."
ME: "Oh, OK."
DUDE: "And you can seriously just call it butter."

Question: What causes you to lose any sense of shame?

Answer: Hanging out with an incredibly cute baby. I'm currently in Lincoln, NE, visiting my sister Mary Kate (aka The Funniest Person On The Planet), my brother in law Josh (aka The Nicest Guy Ever), and my nephew Max (aka Maximillian Wondernephew). Here's a video of us playing in the pool. I don't do anything too silly in this one, but really my takeaway from this visit is I'll do anything to make this kid laugh. Doesn't matter where we are or how dumb I look in the process either. That's not even an issue.

ALSO: Not much happens in this video. You don't see the kid crack up or anything. It's mainly posted here so I can watch it whenever I want and be reminded of how incredibly fun it was to push a baby in an innertube around a pool with my sister. Max actually started laughing hysterically after his dad turned the camera off. Max, your timing is not great. But you are only 7 months old so I will overlook it. One day soon you will realize that you can manipulate adults just by looking at them and laughing. That is the day your campaign for world domination truly begins.

Text Messages I Sent Aa On Friday Night As I Was Giddily Leaving Work To Meet Him Downtown

Context:

-Work sucked ass that day.

-I was going to meet Aa to see a free show his station put together, which includes one of my favorite local music acts.

-I had only decided on this plan of action moments beforehand – my Friday nights usually consist of my couch, my dog, and a book or a movie. This spontaneous plan felt incredibly exciting and daring.

6:47 pm I am getting on a bus in mere moments! There is a man at the bus stop who smells like Stouffers lasagna!

6:53 pm I am on the bus! I am on the way! There appears to be a couple that met at a NAMBLA meet-up just across the aisle from me! http://www.nambla.org/

6:55 pm Oh wait that little boy is just a very slight lady! What a relief!

6:56 pm The stouffers man did not get on the bus with me! What a shame! Instead there is a man wearing no less than three bandanas on his person!

6:56 pm One is a do-rag!

6:57 pm One is billowing oddly out of his pants pocket!

6:58 pm The third is wound around part of his belt!

6:58 pm He also has a laptop and a black leather fanny pack!

7:02 pm (after a call from Aa) You just called me! Your call has thrown me off my game!

7:04 pm I want to eat fried pickles this evening! Or possibly fries!

7:04 pm Or BOTH!

7:05 People give me dirty looks when I talk on my phone on the bus! Perhaps it is because I speak loudly!

7:08 pm I have two pieces of fruit in my bag that I did not have time to eat today!

7:10 Also I have my running stuff with me! I did not have time to run either! This saddens me!

7:13 Whoa! A fat version of Sammy Hagar circa OU812 just got on the bus!

7:17 ….aaaand he’s off the bus! That was fast, Fat Sammy Hagar!

7:17 (from Aa) Hurry up!! I am in the beer area. Enter on west side.

END.

Recovery

Boo. I haven't posted for a while. Turns out this has been the Best Summer Ever, so I kind of haven't had time. The Northwest is an amazing, amazing place in summertime. I am one happy lady these days.

Today, I am also one sore and sleepy lady. On Friday and Saturday I ran in a 24-hour relay race from Blaine (on the border w/ Canada) to Langley (on Whidbey Island, the San Juan Island you don't have to take a ferry to). Teams of 12 runners cover about 185 miles altogether, running from Friday morning through the night into Saturday afternoon. Each runner takes 3 legs, and gets about 8 hrs off between each run, during which time you try to find a place to stretch, change out of your nasty running clothes, and maybe sleep for an hour or so. My friend D asked me to participate a few months ago; at that time I briefly checked out the site for the race and agreed, without really thinking about it. I managed to get what I thought would be one of the easier legs of the race, stepped up my running a bit to prepare, and kind of didn't think about it.

Then, a couple of weeks ago, I checked out my running assignments and realized something was different. I thought my toughest leg was going to be my first one - a 6.3 mile run that the organizers classified as "hard". But the race organizers had made some changes. My toughest leg was now going to be my final leg - 6.9 "very hard" miles. A mothereffer of a slow uphill, followed by a fast, steep downhill, which is even harder and more painful to run. I'd likely be making this run around noon, in really hot sunny weather. I'd be lucky if I got any sleep at all beforehand - my second leg began around 2:30 am and was an easy, flat, quiet 2.7 miles through residential Anacortes. I got through legs 1 & 2 just fine, and even ran a faster pace than I'd expected to. But damn - I was freaked out about that final leg. I only had a couple weeks to try to get ready for a considerably harder final run. I did a few longish runs, topping out at an 8.5 mile trail run. Then I took this past week off to rest up. My first two legs went great - I passed some folks at the end of my first leg, which is exactly when you should pass people. My friend C came out and biked alongside me and the other night runners on our team. I passed out in my sleeping bag for nearly 3 hours after my night leg. Saturday morning dawned sunny and got hot almost immediately.

And it turns out I was right to be freaked out about that last leg. IT. SUCKED. It was totally beautiful - I ran near the water, there were mountains in the distance and I was running down a long, windy forest road. It was hot as hell and we were on pavement the whole time. I moved slowly enough that I probably got passed by a half-dozen other runners. (Screw you guys, btw.) And I kept passing dead animals on the road. A bird. A snake. And then, finally, a baby deer, off on the side of the road in the dry grass. He lay on his side and he looked like he could be asleep except that his legs were stiff and straight and his eyes were wide open. This is embarrassing now but I remember thinking all those dead animals were some kind of bad omen for me. And that's when I realized I didn't have to finish if I didn't want to.

Right then, my teammates showed up on the side of the road. They dumped water on me and gave me some to drink. One of them handed me a cold slice of cantaloupe. That gave me a little burst of energy, so I kept going. A few minutes later, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. There was a doe bouncing through the forest maybe 6 feet away from me. She stayed with me for a minute and disappeared into the woods. I finished my final leg maybe a half hour later, after forcing myself to walk most of the crazy downhill near the end of the race. I am certain the two guys who barrelled past me on that downhill are in a ton of pain today. You just can't do stuff like that to your knees. My team was waiting for me at the bottom of the hill, cheering. I passed off the baton to D, and stopped fucking running. My teammates handed me a homemade peanut butter bar and an ice-cold beer. Later, they told me they all felt terrible for me after driving my final leg to meet me at the end. My teammate K very succinctly said, "Whoever changed that last leg just straight up fucked you."

I kind of can't believe I did this race. If I'd thought about it more when D first asked me, I probably would've said no. But holy crap, overall I had so so much fun. The course was beautiful and everyone on my team (mainly folks I'd never met) were great and hilarious and sarcastic. And for the first time in my whole entire life I feel like an athlete. I feel like most of my adult life has been about undoing the ridiculous amount of embarrassment and shame and anger I felt about my body in adolescence. And today I have this amazing feeling of respect for my body and what it can do. At 35, I am finally feeling proud of my physical self. I've never felt like this before. I did not realize finishing this race would be such a big deal for me. But it was. It is. And I would totally do it again next year.

He Once Solved A Rubik's Cube In 43 Minutes

A guy is in his front yard, barefoot, shirtless, in cutoffs, working on a painting. There are several other paintings, presumably his, nearby. Zack and I walk by.

Painter: Hey! Wanna buy a painting?
Me: Sorry, I don't have any money with me.
Painter: Wow! What kind of dog is that?
Me: Oh, he's a basenji. His name is Zack. They're African. Funny little dogs.
Painter: You know what kind of dog he looks like?
Me: Um, some people think he looks like a shiba inu...
Painter: No, no! He looks like a dog in a movie! You know?
Me: Well...
Painter: You know what I'm talking about? The kind of dog you'd see in a movie!
Me: You mean like Benji or something?
Painter (clearly exasperated): No! No! You know, like the kind of dog that solves a riddle? He solves puzzles, man! And he gets the bad guys! And he talks to other animals, like wolves. That dog! That's what your dog looks like. That's what he looks like to me.
Me: ...
Painter: Hey, do you want to buy a painting?
Me: Uh, no thanks.

You Can't Win

Michael Jackson was pretty creepy as he got older. But when it came out, Thriller was one of the most exciting things that ever happened to me when I was a kid. I loved that album so, so much. (I think I got it as a birthday present at a sleepover, which was THE birthday party to have in 4th - 6th grades.) The only album I'd really loved before then was Olivia Newton-John's Physical (this because I so admired her performance in Grease). Also, Thriller was one of the first pieces of music I loved on my own - I had a Doobie Brothers tape, but that was a gift from my folks that came with the tape recorder I got for my birthday in third grade. (I do remember walking around my neighborhood, blasting that tape as loud as I could. Probably many people were not expecting a little girl to be rocking Michael McDonald on a tape deck.)

Anyway, back to Thriller. It was the first record that I loved just for itself - for the music. Not because I knew the singer from a movie or somewhere else. I wouldn't discover The Wiz or The Jackson 5 for a couple of years - but learning more about Michael Jackson at that point was nothing but an utter pleasure. He was an attention-hungry kid's dream idol. He was relentlessly talented, he'd been in showbiz pretty much since conception, and it seemed like EVERYONE loved him. The whole entire world loved Michael Jackson. I was deeply envious.

Then, the Thriller video happened. I was very fond of television as a kid, but I'm telling you, that video was the most mind-blowing thing I'd ever seen on TV. I watched it as many times as I could - and of course MTV was playing it constantly. I can't remember what happened or why this decision was made, but one night at dinner my dad announced that my sister and I were forbidden to watch MTV because the video for Thriller was too scary. I remember being stunned. How was I supposed to go about my life as though everything were normal, when I'd actually never be allowed to watch that amazing thing again? What I didn't know then, of course, was in a few months the ban would be lifted, and the video's immense popularity meant I'd be able to watch it, and, later, the making of it, pretty much whenever I wanted until I got my fill.

I will admit that after a year or so Thriller lost its hold on me. I moved on to...whatever I moved onto when I was 10 turning 11. Drawing horses obsessively, maybe? But then my folks introduced me to The Wiz, and that's really when Michael Jackson earned a permanent place in my psyche. I have always loved The Wizard of Oz, but The Wiz felt like an incredibly exciting adult version of that story. As a kid, there were jokes I didn't get at all in The Wiz. (Why do all the cabs refuse to pick Dorothy up? Didn't figure that out till I was probably in college.) But over the years, I've watched it again and again, and Michael Jackson's performance as the Scarecrow is still fantastic. I found it to be a good point in his past to focus on - which I think many fans did, focus on Jackson's past - as his present and future got increasingly disturbing.

Anyway. I watched The Wiz again last night and was once again struck by Jackson's performance as the Scarecrow. (Ray Bolger, respect, but he kind of kicked your butt on this.) Jackson's big song, especially, I think is amazing. The Wiz, btw, was made in 1978. So Jackson was 19 or 20 when that movie was filmed. Here's his big song.

You can't win - Michael Jackson - The wiz
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Lost Dog!

She wandered up to us at 73rd and 13 Ave NW. Sweet, young, playful, followed us home. She misses her people! Do you know her? The Humane Society likely won't be able to come get her till tomorrow.

Weather / Perspective

So, it's supposed to hit 90 degrees here in Seattle today. It's hot for this neck of the woods. And at work, the AC is cranking. So I've been cold all day. And, I'll be honest, I've also been a little cranky about that and some other stuff. So a little while ago, I stepped outside to get a cup of coffee at my favorite near-work coffee place. One of my favorite baristas was working.

BARISTA: (hair blowing back from the fan she has trained right on her): Hi, what can I get you?
ME: Tall Americano to go, please.
BARISTA: You want that iced?
ME: No, hot.
BARISTA (in disbelief): Hot? Really?
ME: Hot. Really.
BARISTA: Um, are you crazy?
ME: No! My work is freaking freezing. One of my co-workers is actually walking around in her soccer knee-socks right now, because she wore shorts and didn't think about the AC. I've been wearing a sweater and drinking tea to warm up. It sucks.
BARISTA (staring at me, wiping sweat from her forehead): "Oh, the AC is so hiiiigh at my awesome public radio job! My husband is so great*! He made me an ice cream cake**! My dog is so cute***! My hair is just so full and wavy****!"
ME: ...
BARISTA: You need cream with your coffee?

I didn't realize I needed to be mocked in public, but I guess I did. Totally snapped me out of my crappy mood, and had me laughing all the way back to work.


*Barista and I shoot the shit a lot, and I talk frequently about how fantastic I think Aa is.

** True! He made me an ice cream cake for my birthday. See? Fantastic.

***Yes, I also talk about my dog a lot. This can't be even remotely surprising to anyone who reads this blog.

****No idea where this one came from.