The other night, on our way down the bike trail, a ladybug landed on my arm and it hitched the whole 9 miles to the brewery. I made sure it stayed safe because there’s no insect cuter and I’m all for public transit.
With it in mind, I got to work last night at my desk. It’s a great group; I love this nature journal exchange we’ve got going on at Moly_x_9.
I’m mailing Scoach’s Moleskine journal tomorrow an it’s headed for Hawaii.
I’m messing around with a online tool for mapping running routes. I missed my regional long run this morning because, ahem, I overslept. On the MapMyRun website there’s a growing database of routes from which to choose–or to which you may add your own. Helpful enough, for when one grows tired of the same old roads. It would be even better, however, if you could map trail runs as well…I thought maybe one of you readers might find this useful.
(enjoy!)
He’ll call me around 6 from Streetlight Records in San Jose, telling me he’s found the vinyl he was looking for. The night is young and it’s ours, only us, but I run through the house in a delightful frenzy kissing the boys in one room, only to meet them across the house seconds later to kiss them again there. I always worry they will fall asleep without brushing their teeth. Or fall into the bathtub. Or involuntarily kill each other…those last minutes are restless. But once I’m on the road, it’s all good.
In fifteen minutes I’ve woven a peaceful thread around pedestrian traffic along the creek trail. My muscles are warm and loose and my soul is finally free. I sit at an outdoor table and order a pint of ale under palm trees and tall buildings. A crow flies directly across the peach evening sky. The smoke lingers, still without a smell; affecting no one, it exhumes the sun, a giant apricot, into its velvet folds and I sit there squinting in my chair with a foam moustache. Damon rides up alongside the table, golden with sweat and grinning. All eyes are upon him as he leans his bike next to mine against that palm tree. It’s hard not to swell with affection for this man.
We stay for another round, then bolt through traffic on into San Jose, where we stay a while eating red beans and rice, cajun shrimp and Turbodog to the beat of a blues trio. And then another round.
The trail, at night, is dark as pitch and it’s easy to spill over a catfight. So we slip out of the void and back onto the street, where we glide past rows of underlit palms and pawn shops and good folk waving us on. It’s a righteous pass through the soul of any city, un-tucked for the night but singing itself to sleep. There are no pretenses, just us laughing down the street half-drunk and whizzing off and on curbs because we can and because we should.
There are some things we do because it seems possible, and then there are things we take on because we like the challenge, and then there are things that seem dreadfully hopeless and guaranteed to fail us yet we attempt these feats because to succeed makes us better than we were before.
I’ve kept it quiet until now but I’d better put it out there now like undies on the clothesline: I’m running the Nike Women’s Marathon this fall and I’m going to running the entire 26.2 miles in honor of all the people in this world who are battling blood cancers. As a runner for Team in Training I’m standing here with my hands in my pockets, terrified, asking for you to make a tremendous difference to people who have, without discrimination, been diagnosed and are battling leukemia, lymphoma, Hodgkin lymphoma and myeloma. These are diseases that know no race, no religion, no commonality besides being HUMAN. And I’ve wept through too many cases already not to push through my insecurities and ask for your help.
And, as with all efforts, every. little. bit. helps. I’ve been told that, at the rate we’re going with research, the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society predict that we will have a cure for blood diseases by 2012. You can help make this happen.
Please go visit my TNT fundraising page and read more about what every dollar will afford to a person who is undergoing treatment. It will clarify the ambiguities of your donation.
Also, leave me a comment if you know someone who is either diagnosed with, in remission from or who has died from a blood cancer. I would like to mention that person to the world and honor him or her in my efforts.
Last August we visited home and Dad hung with the boys quite a bit. It was raining most of the time and I came home one day, sopping wet, to find them watching the decathlon and practicing the high jump onto the sofa. Dad had them both in perfect form, something I couldn’t have taught, and they boys were totally into it, spring-loading themselves in playful arcs across the living room. It was awesome.
I can’t tell you how to perform the proper pole vault, but Ford had his own method and was in the zone already when I arrived on the scene yesterday. I gave him a few pointers but decided ultimately to just let him figure out what worked best for him. I sat on the floor and watched him in my amazement, deciding that, at least in spirit, we may have another hopeful athlete in the family.
You can’t relocate a basket of forgotten plastic dinosaurs in this house without a notice by the boys. I spent Sunday rearranging half the house in anticipation of Dwight’s return next week. Gone are the piles of books, the boys walking upon bookpiles, the books stacked upon every available surface. Now, we have bookshelves insulating the walls, thick with knowledge and already collecting dust. But now you can see the dinosaurs. And here they are, living the plastic dinosaur dream, moments before asteroid touchdown.
Folded on the back of a chair in the studio, this quilt has sadly watched me come and go through several creative phases, none of which included quilting. But with the rising temperatures, it’s time to throw off the down and throw on the lightweight cotton.
It’s made from thrifted fabric I found in Austin, Merrimekko prints and monoprints made last year.
After a quick, sweaty run and breakfast, we’re off to spend the day in San Francisco, where we can stay cool ride bikes. Here’s Chas, who just woke up. That means I need to hurry up and get out the door.
Happy morning! I’ll post better pictures later, when the light is coming into the room.
Here is where I post pictures of the ebullient first hours after a vaguely dismal four days.
I have lots of questions for my doctor tomorrow, a few directly about my thyroid NOT really operating at capacity. And about those dreadful emo days that just make me want to go ahead and cut myself as I recall them in the joyful days that follow.
I think I need to upgrade.
THIS, this is the quilt I made with Ford’s kindergarten class:
I kept all 20 of the students after school one afternoon and we monoprinted like mad with little bottles of fabric paint, 5 plastic plates and one very popular brayer.
It rocks!!! Surprise for the teacher tomorrow, just to let her know we’ve enjoyed those daytime hours this year, all free of sibling rivalry and backtalk. It’s been awesome!
Still, I spent this afternoon drafting a master plan for next year, and may lightening strike me, it involves homeschooling!
Tags: quilt, quilting, Ford, psychosis, hormonal crap, whatevs
Tags: ChasSicore, Seth Whitman
