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September 28, 2006

you know you're a runner [if/when] (this might get repetitive)

if you know where all the dogs in your town live, and if you know a good portion of them by name.

if you consider ramen noodles "carb-loading."

You know you're a scrimping-and-pinching runner if you, instead of buying a new iPod, simply run *only* for as long as your iPod stays charged for. And woe be to the runner who anticipates the charge lasting for a five mile-loop and finds it will only last until mile 3, and then must carry the damn thing the last two miles for no good reason.

You know you're a damn POOR runner when you need new kicks for the upcoming race, and instead you plan to load up on some Motrin for the inevitable knee and foot pain you'll endure in the old kicks.

You know you've got discipline issues when you have to institute rules for yourself to ensure that you *will* get your mileage in. For instance: "You're ONLY allowed to shower AFTER you run. If you haven't run yet today, you cannot waste the hot water!!" (For some reason, this strange self-psych-out REALLY works.)

You know you're a water-saving, labor-saving, but oh-so-efficient runner if you only wash your running apparel when absolutely necessary (or when your husband says the bathroom, where said apparel hangs, smells like a combination of feet and locker-room, and would you please wash your clothes already?).

You know you're a quirky runner when you never step foot out of the house with less than two sports bras on.

You know you're a runner when your idea of quality time with the kids involves bikes, the jogging stroller, several bottles of water, some baggies of Goldfish, and 3 long and scary miles.

You know you're a runner when you enlist friends who haven't run since that mile she had to run in high school gym class to go out for a "quick 'round the block??"

You know you're a runner when you can guess, with decent accuracy, whether other people are runners by looking at their shoes and calves.

You know you're a runner when you look forward to the next race, not because you're going to win, or because you're going to break your own record, even, but just because you're going to get to go somewhere new to run...with some great running buds.

And so that AFTER the run, you can go to Ponderosa and eat 4 plates of food and still feel virtuous.

Actually, you think that really the only reason you run is for Ponderosa. But don't tell that to any *real* runners.

Posted by mryonker at 04:19 PM | Comments (1)

September 26, 2006

bites the dust

Well, the little iBook that I have lovingly abused lo these last three years has finally bit the dust. Its horrible physical state-- missing key and scratched screen (yes, there is a perpetual hair-like scratch in the lower right corner; I've been brushing it away for months now) and filthy everything--have finally given way to a horrible mental state: it will not boot. AT ALL. For a while, it has every-so-often blinked out on me (luckily never during anything important), and once in a while would not wake up once in sleep mode. But yesterday, it simply gave up.

I do not blame it; I have abused the crap out of it. I do, however, need everybody within my internet-earshot to do a little dance for it to boot ONE LAST TIME so that I can get to those files that have not been backed up. Ahem. Ready? K. Start those feet a-tappin'.

In the iBook's place comes the MacBook (est arrival date Oct 10). 'Til then, I am relegated to the use of B's machine, and I am quite out-of-practice in the PC world, so please understand if an email goes unanswered for longer than normal, etc.

And speaking of biting the dust: this week begins the countdown to the bath to corning race, which is this Sunday. Wish us well, and anticipate some major tag-team blogging of the race next week.

Oh, so when you do the dance to get my old iBook to boot, throw in couple anti-rain steps so that this weekend is dry (but it ain't looking good for that). Wet running = major chafing. And we all know how much I love a good chafe!

Posted by mryonker at 06:47 PM | Comments (2)

September 19, 2006

the good, the bad, and the sucky

Ok, just an update...

The good: the little J is off the binky. And still with over a month until his third birthday. (Yes, I say that full aware of the irony.)

The bad: it's been a week, and he's still asking for it. Which makes a nap out of the question (he won't lie down without it) and therefore makes afternoons with him nearly unbearable. Build the train set! No! It's not right! Kick the train set! Scream and scream! MOOOMMM! BUILD THE TRAIN SET! NOOOO! IT'S NOT RIGHT!!! Luckily by 8 pm he's so strung out on his own bad mood that he crashes the minute I cajole him into bed.

The sucky: he found an OOOLd binky while playing in the yard the other day and came in with it in his mouth, grass and crud and all, grinning with equal shame and ecstasy like a smoker with a butt scrounged from the ashtray outside Wal Mart.

The good: I've got a site set up for my diss work, so I don't have to clutter this *pristine* space with my random notes and kvetching. If you're interested, it's here: zerodraft.

The bad: I'm fast realizing that the hours I have free to work on said diss are quickly quickly eaten up by hours I'm using to read and grade papers. I'm going to have to quit running or something.

The sucky: My posting here is from B's machine; for some reason my machine will NOT let me onto the WRT site or server to post. I can go everywhere else on god's green internet but I cannot post to my own blog from my own computer. Reason #1 I've set up zerodraft elsewhere.

The good: the weather has been great for running. This weekend is the Bud Run in Baldwinsville, a great 10K with the best booty bags, flowers and real soap and water in the port-o-johns, and a chance to see Carol Baldwin, mother of all those Baldwin boys.

The bad: the cool weather really doesn't last here that long. Next week it will be too cold to run.

The sucky: I need a new pair of running shoes for the Bath to Corning run in two weeks. B needs a new computer. I need a new computer--or at least a new power cord (mine gets so hot that it smells of melting plastic and it becomes too hot to touch), which I can get from the Apple store for $79 or I can take my chances on eBay and STILL get reamed for shipping. Most of them want 18.99 for shipping. Egads.

Posted by mryonker at 03:59 PM | Comments (0)

September 13, 2006

because, apparently, I still have too little to do

I dropped the H-girl off at dance yesterday evening at 5:30. I pulled out of the studio parking lot onto State Route 11 in the middle of Cicero rush hour traffic. Ahead, I see in the middle of my lane on this 4-lane beast of a road, a small black object, what at first appears to be some twisted rubber from a blown tire. As I get closer, I realize it is clearly a fuzzy hump of black fur--possibly a squashed black squirrel. As I move to straddle the black fuzzy hump, and as I zoom nearer and nearer, the fuzz's head turns toward my oncoming car, its small triangle ears lifting slightly off its small black face.

And I'm over the top of it. And I'm past it.

And I'm stopped in the middle of State Route 11 in Cicero. I'm smashing the button to turn the hazards on. I'm only thinking peripherally, cloudily, that I'm leaving my two sons in a parked car in the middle of the busiest street in town at the busiest time of day so that I can rescue a kitten from certain death.

And I run back to scoop up the cat, only thinking for a split second before my hands reach down to retrieve him, that he might already be a bloody, broken mess of a cat.

But he's not. As my hands reach down, his little body emits a small grumble at me that makes me smile. He's probably been out here grumbling his little growl at every car that accidentally doesn't hit him.

I run back to the car, throw the door open and place the kitty in Big J's lap, who immediately cradles him in the crook of his elbow. I slam the car in gear and start moving just as a car rides up behind us. The thing smells foul and his bones are sharp. The white of his mittens and nose is so filthy it looks dark grey, only shades lighter than the black fuzz of his fur.

We drive home, and I'm thinking: "What the HELL am I going to do with ANOTHER cat?" And J is talking quietly to it, telling it we have a whole bunch of cat food at home for his hungry belly. Little J, in the back seat, is squealing "Cute kitten! Yet me schee da CUTE kitten!"

After two baths, for which he sat fairly patiently through, the white is still tattletale but the stink is gone. He has no idea what the litterbox is yet, but Big J is intent on cleaning up after him and making sure the family understands that "He's just not potty trained yet!" Big J has become the kitty advocate.

He's recovering. He purrs when you snuggle him and pretty much eats and sleeps all the time, like any other starved, neglected child would do. When the batteries for my camera come in the mail (damn ancient, battery-obsolete thing that it is), I'll post some pics.

I'll be taking donations for his vet bill. And we're calling him Lucky.

edited to add: Tyratae and I have decided that his name will be either Gati (Sanskrit for the course of the soul through numerous forms of life) or Seamhas (pronounced "shavas"; Scottish for luck)--I'm going to let Big J pick. I'll let y'all know.

Posted by mryonker at 09:00 PM | Comments (3)

September 09, 2006

the weepies

I have a favorite new group: the weepies. Their website somehow reminds me of another favorite of mine, erin mckeown; it's probably just the birds.

Anyway, those who know me well know I have a periodic tendency toward melancholia. These weepies are not really weepy, but instead are somehow reassuring WHEN one might be weepy. :)

Check 'em out. She = Joni Mitchell + Patty Griffin; He = Duncan Sheik + someone I can't place. Of course, they're both much more than anyone they're reminiscent of. But just to give y'all an idea.

Posted by mryonker at 07:21 PM | Comments (3)

September 06, 2006

lurch

Things are lurching along. With the kids back to school, and the little J starting pre/play school next week, and me back to teaching, and B back to classes, and etc, we are slowly lurching into a routine of sorts.

The baby sitting co-op schedule is different this semester; the good thing is that this semester I'm not paying any cash out. The converse of that good is that I now have, at any given time, anywhere from 3 to 6 children in my house.

Thank god for Knudsen's pina colada juice and a shot of Cachaca. *sigh*

I've been working up to another blog post for over a week, and I am torn between a post about exhorbitant perspiration (mine, when I teach), about my new idea about a blogging aggregator (one that employs an IA crawler that can notify me in some kind of sorting fashion--one that counts words and lets me know when *important* posts appear, a kind of tagging, counting, bloggragating miracle), about running and the upcoming race, about my complete an utter inability to change my body shape, regardless (it seems) of effort (as in, hel-lo? I just RAN TWENTY MILES? can I get some response from you, ass? some kind of perfunctory "OK, I won't be SO saggy?"), etc.

But alas, no post of such nonsense. Just a note to say I'm here, I'm up to my nostrils as usual, and I'm going to start a once-per-week diss update (not sure which day it will be yet) so that those of you completely UNinterested in diss stuff can avoid reading on those days. :) Because guess what: when I registered for hours this semester, I registered for dissertation hours! No more "reading hours" or "degree in progress" hours. Real diss hours. Which means I should--ahem--start finding some.

Posted by mryonker at 05:21 PM | Comments (5)