Let there be light

HAPPY SOLSTICE EVERYONE!

It came, and I didn't offer up any sacrifices, even. Well, that's not exactly true. I've been told to cut out gluten and [many] grains. No fun at all, what with all the Christmas cookies around!

From here out(starting tomorrow), the days will get just a smidge longer. And life will be just a smidge better.

Hurray!

Why my floor is always a mess

Mia eating from H M R on Vimeo.

Baby it's cold outside

Brrrr! I know some of you don't believe it gets cold in California, but holy bejeezus! This week was, as Harris K. Telemacher aptly put, "a real weenie shrinker."
With some sort of obstinate "dedication" and perhaps a little bravada, I've been riding to work as long as it doesn't rain.
Here are examples of my commutes:
Tuesday:
Temp when I got the gym at 6a.m.: 25 degrees
Temp when I got on my bike to go to work: 24 degrees.

Wednesday:
Temp at gym, 6a.m.: 27 degrees
Temp when biking to work: 25 degrees.

This morning I had some sort of neural ailment that prevented me from thinking clearly and I my layers were all together wrong. I did remember my little beanie to keep whatever remaining heat I had from escaping through my helmet vents, however. I need summer and I need it now. I'd settle for spring.
I don't care what state you're in, unless you're an Eskimo used to living in an Igloo, it's cold. And the Eskimos dress in fur, I believe, and are not out riding their bikes. Yes, I know it's colder in other places. But that does not mean that 24 degrees is warm.

Okay, anyway.

I'm counting down to the solstice (10 days!) and then at least the days will start getting longer, if not warmer. I can see why cultures in days of Yore had huge festivals to importune the gods to bring the sun back and stop the punishment of lack of light. Dancing, food, drink, sacrifices. The whole shebang. All I can say is: lock up your small animals. There's no telling what might end up on the alter.

I haven't yet set up my trainer so I can keep riding, but inside. Seems it's time. I think my motivation is stuck and stagnant. I want to sleep, eat, and drink. And that is all.

November Round Up

November just WHOOSHED by. It was a month ago that I was riding the Giro D Vino. Geez. I little bike ride, a half marathon, a stupid cold that knocked me on my arse, some good dinners and get-togethers with friends, and wham-o, a month goes by.
This morning, I was riding to work in the thick, thick fog, it was 33 degrees outside (yes, that's Fahrenheit -- it does, in fact, get cold in California), and I kept reminding myself that time passes so quickly, I'll be peeling layers and sweating before I know it. In the meantime, I need to find some warm gloves to bike in. I've been a little lazy about pulling out the winter clothes (or maybe that's called "denial").

I'm counting down the days to the Solstice when the days start getting longer. I can relate to the people in the days of yore who had big festivals and offerings to the gods in order that the sun might come back. Lock up your pets -- who knows what I might offer as a sacrifice in sun-deprived desperation.

So -- a glimpse at what happened in November.

Ron and Jen had a birthday, so a selection of the West Sac gang (not to be confused with the Broderick Boys) took a little trip to Streets of London for dinner and drinks and pumpkin muffins with a cream cheese frosting. Mmmm.

Ron and Christine -- how cute are they? They just celebrated their 10th Anniversary, and despite any disturbing dreams I might have had about Christine's philandering, they are gunning for another 10. Happy Birthday Ron!

Jen's bday is the day after Thanksgiving this year. Nice to have a little vacation time for your birthday. I would think. Here's me and Vanessa and Jen.
The lot of us. This was kind of cute. Jen set up her timer, but then some woman was walking by and decided the set-up wasn't quite right, so she decided to take the picture herself. Truth be told, her effort was a little more centered.
Ron and Jen blowing out their candles.
Okay, you got me, this is totally posed, and we didn't get the actual blowing out, so we made them sit there with puffed cheeks until someone took a picture. You can see how Ron is trying not to smile.

Fun times!

Oh, and look at this! I found tucked away in my camera files a photo of the acorn squash soup (so yummy!) with some pomegranates sprinkled on top.


How I spent my Thanksgiving weekend:
We had a little party for Jen on the day after Thanksgiving (she had a lot of partying this month), and I told her I would make any kind of cake she wanted. She said, "I like pink cake with white frosting." Mmmhmm. So -- pink and white it was.
Awwww.

Quite pink -- pureed Strawberries makes it pink.
Not posed. An actual candle-blow-out.
More fun times, and great to meet some of Jen's friends of whom she speaks highly and often.

Earlier in the month, Jana said she had to pick up a wine shipment, so off we went for some wine tasting at Bogle and the Sugar Mill. Last time we went, we asked Todd Taylor (wine maker at . . . Todd Taylor!) to take picture with us. This time, we just asked him to take the picture.
Cute shot down the bar with a ghosty Jen.
All smiles.
Vanessa took copious notes after each taste. I hope those notes serve her well at some point. Like maybe she'll be at a party sometime, and someone will say, "what do you think of the Muscato from Bogle?" And she will whip out her notes from her bag (that also has a pencil case in it) and proclaim, "Well, I'm glad you asked. I found that wine to be not too sweet, a little nutty, and just the right price!" [$6, in case you were wondering]
Glittery Jana. Jana actually glittered all day with her lotion or perfume or eye make-up or whatever makes girls glitter, though she tried to convince us it was her sparkley personality incarnate. She did drive all day though, so if she says her personality makes her sparkle, then darn it, her personality makes her sparkle.
All of us at Bogle -- the first stop, and still under control.
Well aren't we glad that Jana said, "No, no -- clink them this way!" Fabulous shot!
November is going to be hard to top, but I'll give it a go.

Cooking like the Irish

Last weekend I was sort of laying low and not wanting to expend too much energy, so I decided to do a little cooking. It's a great activity for when I need frequent rests: work on this or that, put it in the oven, rest until the timer goes off.

I started off with gnocchi. Have you ever made gnocchi? It's kind of tricky. But my pal at 101cookbooks.com has a recipe re "How to Make Gnocchi like an Italian Grandmother." So I gave it a shot. It's basically potato, egg, and flour. How hard is that?

So I boiled potatoes, mashed them as she directed, drizzled the egg over it, and started folding in the flour. You know what you get when you add liquid to flour and potatoes? You get paste. Starchy paste.


I was not deterred. I took my paste, er: dough, and made it into strips the width of my thumb as she suggested. Then I cut them into inch-long segments.
Did this weird 'push the piece into a fork' thing. Why can't I just push the fork into the dough? Nevertheless, I got this far. Then what do you do? You take your gnocchi segments and drop them 20 at a time into boiling, salted water.
You know what you get when you take little chunks of dough made from potato, liquid, and flour? You get boiled paste is what.
My heritage is heavy on the Irish, easy on the Italian. I'm all about the potato, that is. Next time, I think I'll just boil it and smother it with butter and chives as god intended.

Fresh off that failure, I moved on to roasted veggies. This was a symphony for the eyes and nose. Brussels Sprouts, beets, onion, sweet potato, butternut squash, thyme, rosemary, a little salt, tossed in olive oil and popped in the oven.
Here it is after the chopping:
And while cooking:
And just out of the oven. Mmmmm.

Then I had an acorn squash that I had started cooking so that I could peel it and add it to the roasted veggies, but I left it in too long, so I just pulled it out, let it cool, and peeled it right up. Sauteed some fresh grated ginger and chopped up apples with a touch of olive oil, dumped in the roasted/chopped squash, added a splash of orange juice, and simmered it for a while. Then tossed the whole mess into the blender. Voila! Acorn squash soup with hints of ginger, apple, and orange. The orange juice really added a nice kick. [I had a lot of orange juice on hand as it's my convalescing drink of choice when I tire of the hot tea. Plenty of Vitamin C!]

No photos -- it just looks like baby food.

After that -- a huge pot of split pea soup. Onion, garlic, carrots, bay leaf, water with bouillon, and the dried peas. I like this soup because 1) it reminds me of home and 2) it sort of makes itself. Heidi over at 101 cookbooks suggests pureeing half of it, but I like it sans blender. I also like it because I can freeze it in smallish containers and use them for lunch.

Also no photos. No reason.

So I made pumpkin cookies and pumpkin muffins, frosted with a cream cheese frosting for a little bday get together on Sat. night.
Then I made these yummy ginger snaps that stay soft and moist -- not snappy at all.
Blurry dough.
Mmmm. Rolled in sugar and baked and a whole lotta fall goodness.
There might have been other stuff here and there. Oh! I seeded two pomegranates and sprinkled a few of the seeds on the acorn squash soup. That's not really cooking, but it takes a lot of effort, so I thought I'd throw it in there.

Buon Appetito!

Halloween continued

I know you're all moving on to pilgrims and turkeys and stuffing (oh my!), but here's a little throw-back to the Halloween class we had.

Comfort took these photos with her ipod (or someone took them, anyway). Pretty fancy for a phone! Although, it was so fancy, that we had to wait for her daughter to email them to me because she could not do it herself.
Comfort and me:
Karen and Yuri (of the reluctant-costumers society), Crystal and Comfort.

Crystal and Comfort
With me.
Not sure what's going on here, but it's kind of cute, and I love Comfort!
And now on to more holidays!

Tales of a reluctant half-marathon runner

Last week (has it only been a week?), I ran the Clarksburg Country Run. You might recall that the night before the run, I started getting a cold, which meant wheezy breathing and tough running. And I was still trying to figure out whether my back was going to hold up for 13 miles (hint: it didn't).

So -- what do you do but go and there and just do what you can do? There's not much else to be done. It was an interesting day -- I decided not to bring my camera, and I missed out on some fun photos. Like when a dog ran from a yard and started run with us -- for several miles.

Starting off in the a.m. Chilly start, but this was the latest start-time I've seen -- after 9 a.m.

And ending up. Got a medal. Got a shirt. Got a smile.
But this is more accurate.
The fun thing about running long distances (beside pretending I'm a runner when really I'm not. Which just makes me an actor, not a runner, which is probably more my style. It's like artful lying), is getting medals, and finding a little corner in my house to display them without really displaying them. Mine hang on a picture frame of family photos.
After that run, I more or less was laid out for a week and I want nothing more than to just have a good workout, minus the wheezy, sneezy pain.

NorCal AIDS Challenge 2009 -- looking back

Adding it up

Cost to sign up for run: $45.
Cost to see new Chiropractor with hopes of a miracle cure for my back so I can run: ~$120
Cost to buy shoe inserts at the advice of new Chiro: $40.
Developing some horribly hurty throat like swallowing glass, achy body, no sleep, aggravated asthma, and stuffy head within 16 hours of going out to run: priceless.

C is for Cookie

Happy 40th Anniversary, Sesame Street! Yesterday, NPR had a great story on Sesame Street, its creators, and its history. I learned that the Rubber Ducky song hit the Top 40 (#13 I think) and that Oscar was created because the educators who consulted in production/creation opined that kids need to know that it's not necessary to be happy and feel like skipping along all the time.

There was a long period of my childhood where we could only watch PBS with rare exceptions that included, por ejemplo, the annual showing of Sound of Music or the weekly Little House on the Prairie (for some reason, my night to do dishes often landed on Sunday night Little House night and every so often, my dad would take pity on me and help get them done so I didn't miss Carrie tumbling down the hill, or other exciting adventures). This means, lots of Mister Rogers and Sesame Street, and Electric Company for my sisters -- I never really liked that show. Lots of sunny days and chasing the clouds away. Lots of Big Bird and Mr. Hooper (do people still remember Mr. Hooper?). Lots of imitating Grover in the living room. (Okay -- that last one was just last week. The guy's a genius, what can I say?) I'm pretty happy there's public television and particularly Sesame Street (and Masterpiece Theatre, but that's another story). I was even happier to hear that my nephew's favorite letter is T -- because of this:



I'll have to sing to him about Hs the next time I'm there.

So about those cookies. They're not just for Cookie Monster. Yesterday, I made these fabulous little carrot/ginger/oatmeal cookies from the fabulous 101cookbooks site as I was searching around for something yummy but relatively healthy (ha!) to make for some workout friends (can't very well bring donuts, methinks). I considered fudging on the ingredients, but why not just splurge and get some incredibly yummy and fragrant coconut oil. I'm sure it will come in handy (one commentator on the website said that the oil is a good skin conditioner. I'm not sure if I should store it in the bathroom or the kitchen).

You can make them too. Or just come over and eat them. Heidi (of the 101cookbooks site) is also a photographer, so if you check out the cookies, you can see how yummy they look. Here's my

[Once again, my camera chose to focus on the background, rather than the foreground.]

I have a little run tomorrow. I'm praying for a healthy back and nice weather. I have more confidence in one than the other. Can't decide whether I should have fun and bring my camera and relax a little. Hmmm.

Did you know there are some holidays coming up? Hurray for variety. Next Wednesday is Veterans Day, and I'm going to watch more of this. Can you imagine? Sigh. . .

Drink n' ride; Ride n' drink

The thing about Northern California is that it's November, and we still have organized rides going on. And it was 78 the afternoon of this ride. There might be a thing or two more about Northern California, but I sure was digging watching the sun come up on my drive to Lodi, CA for the Giro D' Vino ride. This ride is a strange beast. There are two lengths: 100k and 50k. Along the route, there are about 4 stops at wineries where riders can taste for free by flashing their fancy pink rideclet (that's my made-up word for the dumb bracelet you get at the rides). Turns out, tasting is more or less free in Lodi, so it was a false draw.

Good morning little smart car!


Well, look what we have here. The bathrooms! Better line up, 60 miles is a long way.
Woodbridge/Mondavi winery -- a cute little ornate something-or-other. I didn't have a ride buddy, so I just headed out on my own around 8:15. This made for an interesting ride. A lot of folks just hung around for a while and the official start was something like 'not later than 9 a.m.' I haven't spent a lot of time at the front of the pack in these rides -- you can imagine who's up there. I'll just tell you: it's the fast people. Lots of men and a few women. I was pretty happy with my speed for the first 50 miles or so, and had fun chasing down some packs of riders, drafting off them, and then hanging back a bit.
Then came the winery stops -- so basically, you ride really hard for 10-15 miles, and then stop at a winery. OR, you don't stop, keep riding, and go chase down other people, all the while comfortably singing out loud because there's no one around.

Except this guy.
This guy rode behind me for lots of miles. He'd speed up, sit about 20 feet behind my wheel, and then drop back. I didn't see him at lunch, but saw him at the last rest stop where he told me to prepare for a big hill. I told him I'd been preparing all my life, baby. No, I didn't really say that. Here he is passing me around mile 55. Why did he pass me? I'll tell you later.

Starting off, with a lovely view of the vino bushes. And some electrical wires, apparently. If I weren't so lazy, I'd edit my photos. Quite a lovely day though.
Meanwhile, at the head of the pack. . . there's no obvious way to get to the first rest stop, so I didn't stop there, kept going. Met a really nice guy who also wasn't on board with the wine & bike combo who had fabulous tattoos and a gigantic iPod (I just have a teeny tiny shuffle).
A couple of guys on fixed gears. I hung out with them a bit when I got to the rest stop. I had to sit a couple of chairs away to make room for their egos.
One of the winery stops. Not a great picture, but there's flags. And a sign or two. I passed by this flag/wine stop; lord knows I'm no stranger to ignoring flags. Especially red ones.
This guy got dropped by his buddy. He made a great show of passing me, but then slowed down so he could eat his almonds. I wasn't sure how big of a breach of etiquette it would be to pass him right back as he looks all sponsored and whatnot. But then, when I was about to run out of water and was ready for some grub, I saw the lunch stop, so I figured I'd just follow him in.
Can you see this? I'll just tell you what it is: a nearly useless lunch spread. I did one ride where the food was amazing, but I can't remember which ride? The rained-out Santa Rosa ride maybe (and NCAC of course -- you should have seen the vegetarian/vegan/gluten free spread!). Anyway. What you see here is lunch after 30 miles of no rest stops. Lots of water (not pictured), great. Apples and bananas, great. And lots and lots of sandwiches. ("I believe that all anyone really wants in this life is to sit in peace and eat a sandwich.") Turkey and Ham and Peanut Butter sandwiches. It was like riding in the Butte, land of mayonnaise and processed cheese.
Then I sat and listened to people talk about how fast they were riding, ask everyone around them how fast they were riding, and chat with the guys on fixies about how they over-rode the route because they missed a turn, and they kept saying they'd "already gone 35 miles" and it was going to be such a long day, etc etc. Now again, I really wanted to interject, but there's something about the male ego that just makes me quietly judge, rather than vocally correct. The rest of us had gone about 31 miles, so their boast/complaint about adding miles rang a little hollow in my already-suffering-from-low-blood-sugar-ears.
Oh, and one of these guys said a couple of times how did didn't need to carry water with him and his body "really stores carbs." No water + "really storing carbs" = looking faint after 35 miles, I guess. After that he said, "That's whats so good about me."

Yeah.

So I ate about 8 apple slices and set off again for the back half -- the hilly half, I'd heard.

This photo I took immediately after a car had passed. Why the heck this rider is in the middle of a road that is not blocked off to traffic, I do not know.

Oh, so I said I'd tell you why that American flag guy was passing me toward the end after he'd been trailing me all day. It's onaccounta my bad genes. My back completely gave out around 50 miles and the last 14 miles or so were a combination of cursing and counting off every tenth of a mile. Apparently either my bike fit is off or the running is ruining my back, because cycling doesn't typically hurt so much. Rather, doesn't typically hurt SO much. That's what I meant.
Stupid running. Stupid back.

Couldn't decide what picture to upload. Typical post-ride self-portrait.
Or the big thumbs up.
I think if I keep working out, I could build up my ego so big that when I flex it, I could knock those boys off their bikes.

Happy November, y'all.

Autumnal Creations

Acorn-stuffed squash for a little dinner-party tonight.

Stuffing
(sauteed onion, green and red peppers, sweet potato, sunflower seeds, rosemary, parsley, goat cheese, acorn squash, fuji apple, quinoa)


The squash:
The stuffed squash.
Mmmmm.

I may be single, but you're ugly. . .

oI know you're happy in your relationship. I know I'm 32 years old, single, and have not had more than two dates with the same person since. . . well, let's not go there. I know that Charlotte Lucas was forced to marry the dreadful Mr. Collins because she was out of prospects at the ripe old age of 27. And even Elizabeth Bennett told Lady Catherine that she could 'hardly be expected to own her age,' and she was only 20. Really, I get it. I'm old and single. But you "smug marrieds" with your condescending head-patting are getting old.

Recent emailed inquiries, made as conversational as possible to avoid looking like there's a large flaw to be gaped at, but when strung together, they rather make one think there's a conspiracy on the rise.

J: Are you seeing anyone?

L: Just tell me if you're dating someone.

M: So, have you been dating?

B: All right, let's have it. What's the story with your life? Dating?

D: I don't understand why you're single.
[This is code for: what's wrong with you?]

And here's a couple of good conversations:

K: Are you seeing someone?
Me: You mean like dating? No.
K: Is it hard to meet people in Sacramento? [I think she's trying to figure out if she should blame me for my affliction or my geography. Note: she lives here too.] Or are there just a lack of quality people? [Ha!]
Me: I suppose it's a little of both, though I suspect I could be considered among the lack of quality.
K: Eventually someone special will come along and you'll be happy when she does :) Until then, Dozo and Mia are good friends.
Me:

Actually, I did not respond. How the heck do you respond when someone tells you, 'You'll meet someone someday, but at least you have your CATS'??

Here's another:

C: Soooooooo..... dating?
Me: Is that a question?
C: Yeah. Are you dating? Have you found that special girl?
Me: My dating is less of an endurance event, and more of a short-lived sprint of late.
C: Well, you don't need a relationship to make you happy.
Me: Did someone say I did?
C: No. I'm just saying, it doesn't have to define you.
Me: Thanks. 'Night.
[Click]

Okay -- so how the heck does one even respond to these people? I've never really liked that scene in Bridget Jone's diary where the smug marrieds ask the singleton what wrong with the single people and she says it's probably that their bodies are covered with scales. But now I see why she resorted to such a ridiculous response.
These well-meaning people are putting me on the defense for something that they have a hang up about. So when I try to add anything to the conversation, it sounds like I'm over-justifying why I'm single. If you're so bored in your relationship that you need to meddle in my life to add a little zing, then I have a few choice questions for you, you smug married, you.

Just let it go.

Spooooookkky

Friday morning PUMP class, day before Halloween, spooky music, COSTUMES! Ha! Last week, Crystal suggested that we all dress in costume for today's class. All week I announced that we'd be dressing up, thinking there was no way that people were going to do it.
But, lo! How cool is this class? Love it.

So we listened to a little "Monster Mash" and "Thriller" and "Zombie" and got our Friday morning groove on. As an aside, I searched my musical library for appropriate songs, and found I had surprisingly few Halloween-themed songs. Too bad Dead Can Dance doesn't rock just a little harder.

Costume twins Yuri and Karen (they threatened to come as "invisible" -- so invisible I wouldn't even see them there. I vetoed that idea). Karen is wearing an orange and black boa and Yuri's got the great socks.
Here's Debbie holding a squat, with devil horns.

And Pat.
And Crystal.

Yuri rockin' the Halloween socks.
The mystery woman in a mask. Somewhere along the way, she must have taken off her fresh-from-New Orleans-beads. Hard to see, but she also painted her face -- she's a cat, but I can't remember the full description.
Pregnant Crystal pumping out those mountain-climbers and trying to protect the baby bump.
Comfort. I just love Comfort. I told her we were dressing up, and she said, "I am my own costume," in her fabulous accent. But this morning, she showed up in this full-body leopard costume!
Here she is climbing up the walls.
She later took the costume off as it was just too dang hot in there.Brenda's costume. Plus some Bubba teeth.

Skull-crushers. Another Halloween-themed exercise. The girl is wearin' the heck out of that unitard.If you look close, you can see a lot of great teeth in those people who appear to have not dressed up. I'm putting both group photos is as there's good things about each.Who says costumes and workouts don't go together?

Next year, we've vowed to learn the Thriller Dance. Anyone want to teach us?

Happy Halloween, all!

Better than . . .

Spinning is better than lots of things. Not all of them though. There are things that are better.

Riding, for example. Though sometimes I miss spinning enough that I fantasize about it being better than riding. Then I get on my bike, and it all comes rushing back. Sometimes I think chocolate is better, but then Sarah McLachlan says love is better than chocolate. Or at least your love is better than chocolate. That would suggest that love is better than riding (or spinning), and I can assure you, that is not the case. Not for me, anyway.

I went to a spinning class the last two Fridays (thanks, Jill!). Fun to remember where that fits in the world. I'm going to need another fix.

October in the Valley is a pretty incredible place. Today, for example, it's in the upper 70's, there's a bit of a breeze, a few clouds, and the bite to the air that yells out 'Autumn!' as it pushes around the tree tops. Last night, I went for a little walk in my neighborhood -- it was getting dark enough for people to have the lights on in their Halloween decorations (since when do we decorate for Halloween??), but it was warm and quiet and I was feeling sort of lucky to have this safe little neighborhood to walk through and enjoy. I like it when life feels slow and leisurely.

As I write, I can't quite remember what the purpose of this post was supposed to be. Originally, a little joke about how spinning is better than other stuff. Then I thought I'd write about the NCAC ride yesterday. And then just now, remembering that all of this is kind of pointless.

Perhaps I'll have some chocolate.

A little more on Ani

Check out this song. Also -- check out how hard she rocks. The fingers on her right hand are wrapped in electrical tape.



That'srightThat'sright.

Ewwww.

I used to think it would be fun to be one of those tom-boyish girls who are all rough and tumble with their dirt and their jeans and their fishing poles, but then you stick them in the shower and they look all cute. [I mean, who doesn't want to be Mary Stuart Masterson, aka 'Bee Charmer'? And when I say, 'want to be,' I think I mean 'want.')
I remember once a long long time ago, I was standing in my dad's house, he was in a chair and my sister was on the couch. I saw a mouse skitter off in front of me. A real, live yicky mouse right there. I shrieked. Not just shrieked, actually. What I said was, "EEEEEK!" I remember this because my dad laughed at me and told me, in essence, that 'eek' is an onomatopoeia ('a word that imitates a sound in nature,' or something to that effect). People don't actually say eek, it's just a word that tries to captures that girly shriek that comes out when one sees a mouse skittering across right in front of her.

I guess I wasn't really meant to be a tomboy, though for a few (many) years there, I seemed to dress like I was ready, should the stirrings arise.

The other morning, I got to my class at the gym and there was a big 'thing' in the middle of the room. I couldn't tell what it was, and the lights are dim, so I went over and scootched it out of the way. I didn't think much about it -- maybe a formerly-wet paper towel or something that hadn't gotten swept up. A few seconds later, it looked like it had moved. I stared at it, but nothing. Then it looked like it had these long legs that were disconnected and stretching out like it was trying to walk. It was like a massive dust bunny that was taking shape.
I, naturally, stepped back, then stood staring at this little alien life with my mouth hanging open. I walked into the hall, but no one was coming. So I stood back again, wondering if it had alien friends that were going to descend on the gym.
Finally someone came in. Looked where I was looking, and said, 'there's a frog in here.'

A frog. Of course. Of course there's a frog in the Kinesis room. Why wouldn't there be. He stared at it too. Then he said he'd get the janitor (who's name I should know, but do not). Then this girl came in who obviously has the tom-boyish thing down because she looks cute enough, but also bent down and said, 'Oh, it's a frog. I'll take it outside.' She scooped it right up and cupped it in her hands.
This, too, gave me the willies, but at that point, I'm not the girl who shrieks at mice, I'm the teacher in a classroom. Instead I said, "good idea" and tried to rearrange my expression.
Let the record show, however, that last friday there was this big, giant, scary-looking roly poly bug on the aerobics room floor, and like the good, brave teacher I am, I scooped it up on my cue sheet (no small feat, as they tend to want to roll away) and scooted it right out the door.
And I didn't even get a medal.

Another chance to remind myself that whoever I am is just who I am. And frog-catching is not for everyone.

"we better have a good explanation . . .

. . .for all the fun that we had."

Last night -- on a school night no less! -- some big fans descended on the Lovely Crest Theatre in Sacramento to see Ani Difranco -- one of the best female singer/songwriter/guitar-stylist/feminist/outspoken/cute/prolific artists out there who is actually touring and bringing some memories to each town she hits.

She's a fabulous poet, so the lyrics are incredible. She's been playing for a long long time and has a varied following. And she puts on a heck of a show.
A bunch of us met at a friend's place for some snacks and hyping-up beforehand. It was cute how giddy everyone was. It was like an old friend was coming to town.

Here's a little snip of a song called Shameless. She was having so much fun playing and everyone was having so much fun dancing, it was hard to focus on the recording (and the part where I'm supposed to hold the camera steady) that this clip is quite brief.

A snip of Ani from Heather Rowan on Vimeo.

And finally: a quick shot of my hot dates as the evening ended.
Awwww.
Thanks for a great night!

May the road rise up to meet you

Yesterday, Saturday as you know, I didn't do what I'd intended to do. There's always a plan, isn't there? Yesterday I woke up with my alarm, wandered around my house, decided going back to bed could be worked into the plan. The weather is weird and eerie. It's warm, but looks cold. It's humid and dark, but won't rain. I had a grump on the size of a very large elephant. I stayed in bed.
When I was so restless that I just couldn't stay in bed anymore, I knew it was time to extract myself from my little island, disrupt the cats, and get on with it. I put on my running clothes. Then I wandered around some more. Then I made some tea. Looked at the piles of papers that have collected on my 'desk.'
Started cleaning. Laundry. Kitchen. Looked at the vacuum. Back to the piles of paper.
All while wearing my running clothes. That's pretty much how the day went. To the bike shop in my running clothes. Stop by a flag football game in my running clothes. Home to make 'dinner' (as much as you can call frozen veggies, black beans, and tuna mixed in a bowl and microwaved 'dinner') in my running clothes. Finally decided to walk outside -- to an amazing sunset -- stand there for a while and come to terms with the fact that I was definitely not going to run. Took off the blasted clothes and got in the shower.

Today, Sunday, alarm went off again. I got up and wandered around a bit. And even put on the running clothes (different ones actually). Wore them right back into bed where I slept for some time. I started to get a little upset with myself for not just getting out of bed and hitting the road, but then I remembered that 1) I had dinner with someone who was exposed to swine flu, 2) a friend wrote to me and told me that everyone is going to get the flu (pig or regular) and I'd better get my flu shot, 3) I don't get flu shots, 4) there are not enough hours in the week for me to get an adequate amount of sleep, and 5) I have an exceedingly busy week ahead.

So I went about my day and (brace yourself, Mom) went grocery shopping, cooked some food, worked in the yard (that storm did some crazy stuff back there), and finally decided just to start running, and if I didn't feel like it, I'd come home. But I had a plan. That was to run 8 miles.

I start off running and decide that I'll let the wind decide which way I go. I wanted the wind at my back for the latter half of the run. After about 3 miles, I encountered a construction area. I don't really know what's going on over there. I ran kind of through it, kind of around it. Half mile later, a guy in a security car drives toward me and motions for me to stop.
Security guy: what are you doing out here?
Me: Running.
Security guy: where did you come from?
Me: (fighting off my in-born tendency toward sarcasm) I live down that way in that group of houses.
SG: In that house? [He points to the one house that's up on the levee -- it's not a group and there is no other house up there]
Me: No -- just down on the right in that group (not entirely accurate, but it's not like I was going to give him my address).
SG: I've never seen you here before.
Me: Hmm.
SG: They say no one can be out there.
Me: Who is 'they'?
SG: My company told me. It's actually dangerous to be here. [Maybe he was trying to feel like it was very important for him to be there]
Me: Ah. Well I'm almost done -- I'll just get to the end and turn around and go back.
SG: I'll let you go. It's dangerous. No one should be here. But I'll let you go.
Me: Thanks.
SG: Do you come out here a lot?
Me: Not as much as I should.
SG: I'm going to follow you in my truck, so if you see a truck, it's just me. [You know how busy dirt roads that are apparently dangerous construction sites get on Sundays.]
Me: Okay -- I'm just going to run to the end and turn around.
SG: I could drive you wherever you're going.
Me: That would kind of defeat the purpose.
SG: Oh. Oh yeah.

I put my earbud thingys back in and turned on my music so he would know that our special time together had come to an end. Anyone else see a distinct switch in vibe from 'accusing H' to 'hitting on H'? Weirdo. [Last time a man hit on me, he walked away kind of weirded out.]
Then I got to the end of the road, turned around, and pretty much got a little push the whole way home.

May the wind be always at your back.

The Little Tube that Could

My bike tire with a slow slow slow leak that I keep pumping up instead of actually changing finally gave in. It's had some sort of issue since the Labor Day ride. About 1/2 hour after I got to work this morning, I heard a big WHOOSSSSSSHHHHHHHH. The stem finally failed and won't take more air. Didn't hurt to try though.

Yes -- I get to look at that lovely carpet every single day.

Poor little tire.

Success!

Not really my success per se, but there was definitely some success had this morning. I've been teaching some classes at the new West Sac Rec Center for a while now. There are 3-4 people who have been coming to classes since January, and 2 of them used to be in my cycling classes, so I've been working with them/working them for almost three years. Over the past 4 months or so, they've been making some great strides, and I tell them so. Stronger, more endurance, more fit, noticeable changes. They do not respond to my accolades.

This morning I said, "You know how sometimes you sort of notice a muscle and then remember that you're sore and what you did to make yourself sore?" And one of them said, "Sometimes I reach my hand up to my shoulder and I notice there's a muscle there! All those push-ups, I guess." The others chimed in: "oh yeah, I feel (this) muscle or (that) muscle." Someone said that people have commented on her arms and calves. I of course asked if they noticed her fabulous glutes.

Sometimes this gig gets frustrating and I wonder why I do it and whether all the time it takes it worth it. Sometimes it's really quite rewarding. And sometimes I get little notes thanking me for the time and effort I put into it (and the mind-power it takes to learn everyone's name!), which is also very cool. I'd quote from the note, but I'm guessing the writer is reading.

So anyway -- subtitle of this post: Women Over 50 (60?) Own How Awesome They Are!

It's Raining, it's pouring. . .

So I'm not out there biking or running or whatever else I do -- what is there to write about? Politics and Religion!

The questionable Guv of the good ol' Golden State is a joke. [I was going to write, "In my opinion. . . ," but really -- you're reading my blog and I'm not paid to do this. It's obviously my own opinion. ] He's a joke who was elected twice, though, and we're stuck with him until after the 2010 election, unless there's another joke of a recall in California. Wouldn't that be something. Those who live by the sword . . .

Anyway. Long story short: he signed a bill that creates "Harvey Milk Day" each May 22. People are mad about that because Harvey was gay. You know the drill. "They" are now accusing him of being a pedophile (in some religions [okay -- in some conservative religious zealot's heads], gay is synonomous with pedophile, so I follow the argument), teachers are going to teach homosexuality in schools, yadda yadda. And we have a state 'day of recognition' (no, not a holiday -- there is no cost to the state whatsoever) honoring the gay/pedophile/first openly gay person in public office who was murdered by a crazy son of a bitch who barely served any time because of the now-defunct "Twinkie Defense." [You got questions? I got answers.]

Then the joke of a Guv signed a law that basically says, "California respects the full faith and credit clause in the U.S. constitution. . . mostly." Full faith and credit says that laws/contracts in one state will be honored by other states if that first state's laws don't violate the constitution of the second state. So the recently-signed-bill says that if a gay couple gets married in Massachusetts, por ejemplo, and then they move to California, California will give that couple the same recognition that a gay couple would get in California. So if you're gay married in MA, you're Domestically Partnered in CA. Equal? [This does not violate the stupid DOMA, in case you were wondering.] It's something, I guess. And it doesn't violate California's Constitution that now says "We hate the gays and we don't want them recruiting our children, bastardizing our churches, or thinking that they can have equal rights." Or something like that.
As of today, if a gay California couple got married between June 15, 2008 and November 3, 2008, there are still married. We'll see how long that lasts.

Here's a good quote from the UK Guardian:

The Campaign for Children and Families called the Harvey Milk law "the strongest impetus yet for loving parents to remove their children from anti-family public schools".

On the same day that Schwarzenegger signed into law Harvey Milk day, Obama reaffirmed his campaign pledge to end the ban on homosexuals serving openly in the military in a speech to America's largest gay group, although he offered no timetable for implementing his promise.

Anti-family public schools?

Sort of feel like pow pow pow! coming out swinging today. Like the attacks are starting anew. Ahhh. So it goes. God wants them to be that way. [Really, though, click on that link.]

If my roommate isn't home, maybe I'll do a little pow pow pow Billy Blanks tonight.

Fall cooking

How exciting that it's fancy Autumn with the leaves and the chill and winter veggies. I've been wanting to jump back into the cooking and roasting veggies and baking with pumpkin, but it's been so darn hot. Today it was in the mid-70's and just right for an evening run and making some fabulous soup.
There was a recipe posted here on one of my favorite websites and I've been wanting to try it. Green soup with Ginger. Mmmm.

So I carmelized some onion.
And I simmered some green veggies with ginger and sweet potato.

And then I threw some lightly sauteed tofu on top, and voila!
Yum. Really quite good.

I had a night off tonight, which I spent 1) going for a great run, 2) cooking this fabulous soup, 3) remembering I have two flat tires: 1 per bike, and 4) wishing someone else would change them. I am not sure how I'm going to get to work tomorrow.

Sunday morning jog

This morning was the infamous Sacramento Cowtown Half Marathon (there was also a full marathon and a 5k available). Sort of an odd rain with big drops showed up for a bit last night. For a minute I hoped it would return for the morning run. Just for a minute though.

So the deal with this one is that I trained Jen, from the Rec Center, to run because she kept quitting on herself and I couldn't stand it, so I meddled into her business and told her that if she WANTS to, she CAN. This basically meant some research for a training plan, preparing a plan, plotting out runs, coordinating schedules, and creating accountability. It also means I'm a busy body and maybe if people feel like quitting, they should just be allowed to quit. Also means I'm on the hook for running a Half.

We ran together, me telling dumb stories that were only occasionally well-received, keeping time, cheering, coaxing, bribing (not really), and reminding Jen that she was going to get a fancy cowbell at the end.

So . . . without further ado.
Of course -- a pre-race shot of the bathrooms. This was only one wall of them. I was going to take more pictures but I started running into everyone under the sun. Where did I get all these superstar, active friends?

Jen waiting in line wearing her chic trash bag to stay warm beforehand. It was a little sub-50 degrees. Not too shabby. Reflect-o hat for safety.
Jen and Michelle pre-race, post-pit stop.
Michelle, Jen, and Me: "Before."
ROGER! Roger's an NCAC guy. Well, he's an all-around good guy, but I know him from NCAC and he's absolutely fabulous. So fun to see him this morning and get a good giggle.
The masses. I hear-tell there were 5,000 runners.
Start line. With balloons.
There's a PBR manufacturing plant in Sacramento?! Schlemiel!
This was the best water station by far. Among their other attributes, they told us that the orange shirts have Cytomax and the red shirts have water. Genius. Good to know. The Cytomax kids were yelling: "Cytomax! It's like water on steroids!" Among other things.
Cowtown marathon has a cow theme, in case you didn't get that. Here are some spectators-extraordinaire.
Kathy (doesn't she look happy to be getting her photo taken?) and Jen. We're sandwiched here between the river and I-5. Lovely. Kathy was in my spinning classes in days of yore.
Yeah. I don't know.
Boat falling into the river. This path is directly across the river from where I ride on my 'after work loop.' So much more to see from this vantage.
Maybe you can read it, maybe you can't. The yellow shirt says, "Two heart attacks couldn't stop me. The finish line might."
The two purple shirts on the left are running for Team in Training. Lots o' purple today.
Marathon? There's an app for that.
Double digits, baby.
Jen's cheering team. They serendipitously showed up just after Jen hit a wall. Fabulous! With a sign, spatulas, and the whole shebang.
This guy with his flag is marking the point where we had 1/2 mile to go. His horse marked it in his own way.
Home stretch. Awwwww yeah.
Michelle, Jen, Me: After. Should have stuffed the lipstick in the mini-pocket.
Jen with her offspring.
Note the cowbells.
Post-run goodness. Yum.What a day. Back's not hurting too badly tonight. A good sign.
Interestingly, I decided just about an hour ago to not start Crossfit tomorrow and wave of relief washed over me. Duh.
Maybe I'll go for a run instead.

When is it time to change the air filter in the house?

Uh, a little before now.


Mom, you've got to send John back for some home-improvement!