Wet Hot Dog!

Otis after this morning's run.


Normally I don't like running in the rain but this morning I LOVED it! Probably because it's such a novelty.

Otis loved it too. Probably because he's a lab.

Hot Dog!

Otis after this morning's run.

Perspective

I woke up last night in a cold sweat. I'm not sure why it hit me when it did, but for some reason I realized that, in the process of weeding out a bunch of old paperwork last week, I must have thrown away the ticket for my ACL Festival 3-day pass. I have turned my house upside down repeatedly but it's nowhere to be found. Even though I still have super old ticket stubs from shows I went to years ago. Those are the things I should have thrown away. But instead I threw away the one ticket I need and for which I paid (quite a lot of money, I might add).

I have been to ACL festival every day of every year since it started and I was really getting excited to go again this year. It has become kind of a tradition now and I planned to keep it up as long as I could if for no other reason than when I was really old I would be able to tell my grandkids about how I went to ACL Festival for every day of every year since it started and they would think I was the coolest grandma ever.

At first I was sure I'd find it. But I didn't and still haven't and now I don't think I will. I've looked everywhere. Then I was angry and frustrated. After that I became hopeful when I remembered a friend who had earlier offered me an extra ticket he had purchased before he moved to Phoenix. But I later found out he has since sold it so I returned to being bummed. But when he told me that he was able to get a replacement ticket last year after his never arrived in the mail, I became hopeful once again. After perusing the website, however, I'm left feeling pessimistic. And pissed. No, livid. At myself. But before too long, all that anger and frustration turns into something that feels more like defeat. And resignation. I guess I just don't have the energy to stay very angry for very long these days.

I'm trying to keep perspective too. I know there are all kinds of really horrible and tragic things going on in the world and that in the big scheme of things this is totally insignificant. I mean, people are dying in Iraq as I type and there are all kinds of victims of crime and disease and disaster. Real loss is not the loss of things, but the loss of loved ones or abilities or potential. I know all this. And it helps to remind myself of what's really important.

But even knowning all that, I still can't help kicking myself and feeling pissed. D'oh!!!

Washington

I leave later today for a short trip to Seattle that I've had planned for some time.

To amuse and entertain you while I'm gone, I leave you with this. Although it is (loosely) about our forefather Washington rather than the state to which I am headed, it is, nonetheless, well worth your time.

It has been around for a while now and you may already be familiar with it. But watch it again. Like Uranus jokes, it never grows old. And like a bad car wreck, once you see it, it becomes difficult to turn away. Although we know we should.

However, I should warn you, if you're trolling blogs from work, you may want to turn the volume down before you watch. Unless you've already clicked on the link before reading this caveat, in which case you're probably already packing up your desk while your boss hovers over your shoulder.

Sorry 'bout that. But look on the bright side - nice long weekend for you too!

Back in a few days...

School Days

Remember your first day of kindergarten? I remember mine. I was really scared, but my mom promised me that if I made it through the whole day without crying, she'd buy me the big huge box of Crayola crayons - you know, the one with all the possible colors including Burnt Sienna. And I did it! (never underestimate the power of bribery).

My best friend from college has twins who started kindergarten this week. Damn, that makes me feel old. But how cute are they??!!!

Workout Week In Review

Monday - Ran 3.5 miles
Tuesday - Ran 4.1 miles
Wednesday - cried
Thursday - Ran 4.5 miles (Greenbelt)
Friday - wallowed
Saturday - napped
Sunday - Rode 40 miles
Monday - Ran - 3.5 miles

Good Grief

Well, actually the grief part really sucks. But sometimes traumatic events serve to remind us of how lucky we are to have truly good people in our lives.

I am amazed by all the support I have received over the past few days from family and friends and colleagues and neighbors and even strangers. It's remarkable to me to realize how many people got to meet Paddi and know firsthand how special he was. Others didn't know him personally, but anyone who knows me or anything about me knows how special he was to me.

The overwhelming and heartfelt outpouring of kindness over the past few days really has helped me feel better. So thanks...

...for all the beautiful flowers:




...and the pretty plant:


...and the delivery of still-warm cookies and milk:


...and all the wonderful cards:


... and for stopping by the house with goodies including groceries and ice cream and beer:
(Blogger won't let me upload the beer photo - grrrrr - so you'll have to use your imagination.)

...and for taking me out for pizza;

...and for the many calls to see how Otis and I are doing;

...and for the tons and tons of incredibly supportive and reassuring messages and kind words. Below are just some of them:

Oh, no... Ami, I'm so sad for you and Otis. Know that you gave him a wonderful life. Know that he lived happily each and every day to keep you company and be your constant companion. Know that he thrived on your love and devotion to him. Know that your essence of being is forever positively touched and affected by him, and vice versa. Know that he understood the gravity of your painful decision and accepted it. Know that there is nothing for which you must be forgiven. My heart aches for you and Otis. May you find peace with what has transpired and comfort for this difficult loss.

i'm so sorry to hear about Paddington. i loved your stories about him, and he always looked like a character in pictures, and knowing you a little and how you felt about him, i kind of feel like i knew him. it also brings back all sorts of feelings for me, so i can only imagine how you feel. i just know he had a really good life with you, and that's what's important

Ami, I keep thinking about you and Otis and hope both of you are recovering from your loss. Our pets are so dear, and it's always so painful whenever
it happens. One is simply never prepared.

I am sorry to hear about Paddington. What a sweet dog. However, we all have our time and I am very comforted knowing he had such a loving mom and companion for his whole life. You were really great to him and he simply could not have
been a happier boy.

Ami, so very sad to hear. My condolences. I know he was a very special friend

Ami, you're the best thing that ever happened to Paddi, and I'm sure right now he's wagging his tail as he's smiling down on you. Let him be one of your guardian angels...If you need ANYTHING at all, just let me know...

I am sorry for your loss -- truly. I am also, on the other hand, so
happy that you had the opportunity to have such a great pet and the two of you had such a wonderful bond and great times together. That's quite a gift.

i'm so sorry for your loss. it kills me to hear that, so i can only imagine how sad you must feel.

oh, ami, that is so sad. i am sorry for your loss. i know otis will provide more than enough for you to handle in the coming years. enjoy your time with him.

We are so terribly sorry to hear about his passing. He was adorable and we are all going to miss him so much. I am sure you are heartbroken. He was a faithful friend. Otis will be lonely too. Let us know if he needs Gracie to come over and cheer him up sometime. She has slowed down a lot and I dread the day you have just experienced. I want to give you a big hug and cry with you.

Ami, I am so sorry!!! I am giving you a big, big hug. I know that this had to be extremely difficult. Hang in there.

please know that I am so sorry. Lots of things to be said, but most importantly, you know that you gave Paddi the absolute best life he could have had. You were the best companion and friend possible, as was he.

Oh Ami, I'm so sorry. I do know how special he was, and always will be, to you. And you were even more special to him, giving him the best life any dog, or anyone, could ever dream of. Know that I'm sending you a lot of love, and am saying an extra thanks that we got to share Paddi's time here on earth.

I'm sorry to hear about Paddy. He was a great dog. I'll be thinking about you and Otis, as it is no small thing to lose such a friend

Ami, I am so sorry...I can't even imagine how you feel. You were such a great mom to Paddington.

I am so sorry to hear about Paddi. I know this must be a horrible time for you right now and you probably don't want to talk to anybody, but I just had
to tell how sorry I am, and how hard this is hitting me. I was surprised at the intensity of my reaction, but I've been bawling like a baby since I heard. I started thinking about how sweet Paddi is and how much you meant to each other and how very sad you must be. I thought of your trip around the country together in your van, and how we used to love it when he came up to the office. It was like it was his office, too...

Oh no!!! Dear sweet Paddinton. I'm so so sorry. Sometimes putting a pet to sleep is the best thing for them. I wish we had such compassion for people! That is really sad!

Thanks everyone.

Crying Til I Laugh

Leave it to my beslubbering swag-bellied maggot-pie of a sister to be able to make me laugh even when I'm this sad.

Just the Two of Us...

Today I stayed home from work and spent the whole day with Otis. We started out with our usual morning run on the Greenbelt with our running buddy. I thought about not going, but felt like it would be good for me and Otis to try to maintain some sense of normalcy. And I'm glad we went.

The rest of the day we just kind of hung around and didn't do much other than snuggle. Well, at first Otis wouldn't hold still long enough to snuggle in any traditional sense. It was more like I laid on the floor with him while he climbed around on me and shoved a filthy deflated soccer ball in my face. Still, it was somehow comforting and nice.

I can't tell if Otis misses Paddington or even knows he's gone. At first I didn't think he'd care because recently, when Paddi and I were in Corpus and Otis was at "camp" by himself, I called to check on Otis. I asked if he seemed to miss Paddi since he had never been boarded on his own before. I was told, without hesitation, that he didn't seem to miss Paddi at all and was having a grand old time playing and making mischief as usual. So I figured that animals must not be like people and maybe Otis wouldn't have to go through a grieving process like I do.

But now I'm not so sure. Last night when I went to bed, Otis didn't settle down the way he normally does. Instead, he went to the place where Paddi usually sleeps as if looking for him to say goodnight. Then later this afternoon, Otis seemed less waggy than usual even when I tried to sound cheerful and play with him. Maybe he was just sleepy. But he sure looked sad to me.

Celebrating Paddington

Only my gratitude for having had Mr. Paddington in my life as my best friend for all these wonderful years supersedes my sadness for his absence now. And I am so thankful for Otis, whose big kisses and constantly wagging tail are tremendously comforting to me even in the face of this kind of overwhelming sadness.

Below is something I wrote in May just after Paddi's 12th birthday party. I don't know what else I can say today.

Well, tonight was Paddi's traditional birthday party at Redbud. As usual, there was a good turnout of friends and pooches and it was a super nice evening. Overall it was a success, but poor Paddi had such a tough time getting around because of his arthritis. He did great while he was in the water swimming, but it was very difficult for him to maintain his balance on the rocks when he was out of the water. And it was really difficult for me to watch him as his quivering hind legs constantly threatened to give way.

I can't bear to think about it, but I suspect that this is Paddi's last birthday. The new meds don't seem to be helping and I fear he's in pain much moreso than he lets on. I'm going to order him a harness that goes around his hips and to which the leash attaches in order to support his rear end while he walks. I sure hope this helps. If you don't have a dog - and maybe even if you do - you probably won't understand this, but Paddi is such a huge part of my life and has really been the only constant in my life for the past twelve years. I can't even imagine life without him.

I picked Paddington out of a litter of puppies the day after he was born. Then I went to visit him every day (sometimes more than once a day) (okay - sometimes even more than twice a day) until I could take him home. I remember how tiny he was - his whole body was about the size his nose is now. His eyes were closed at first. And on the day they opened, they were bright blue. He was wiggly and squiggly and snuggly. When he came home he was a ball of energy. I was studying for the Bar exam so I was always home with him. I took him for frequent walks and was able to keep my eye on him to make sure he stayed out of trouble (unlike Otis who made up for it by getting into all kinds of trouble as a pup).

A lot has changed over the years since Mr. Paddi came into my life. I was married and living in Madison, WI then. I was a different person then too - so busy trying to create a successful marriage and a successful career that I forgot to just be who I was. I did that for long enough until one day I didn't even know who I was. Or what I wanted. And that's when the bottom fell out.

I remember when things fell apart and I ended my marriage, I was a complete and total wreck and I felt like a horrible dog mom. I didn't know what to do about Paddi. I could barely take care of myself, much less him. But my ex couldn't take him since he was in an apartment. I ended up keeping Paddi, who patiently stuck by me even when, for days on end, I did little more than cry and sleep. Gradually I began to pick up the pieces, but I couldn't quite reach my equillibrium staying where I was and doing what I was doing. I decided that what I really needed was to extricate myself from everything and everyone and just spend some time on my own just being me. So I sold my house and my car. I took a one-year leave of absence from my job and bought a VW camper van. And I took off on my own, but not alone. Paddington came with me. And I wouldn't have done it without him.

He and I traveled all over the U.S. and Canada for the better part of a year. I joke around now about how my dog is better traveled than most people, but it's actually true. That was in 2001 and Paddi was 7 at the time. He was the perfect age for such an adventure. He was old enough to chill out when I was doing my own thing, but young enough to stick with me on hikes of any length and over any terrain. He even saved us on a long desert hike in White Sands, NM by retrieving his portable water dish that had blown away without my realizing it. I can't imagine a better traveling companion than Paddi. He was happy no matter what and loved discovering new places and meeting new people as much as I did.

A lot has changed since then too. After our travels we moved to Austin. Then, when Paddi was 9, I decided to get another dog. Everyone asked me if I was getting another dog for Paddi. "No", I said. I really do believe Paddi was perfectly content being an only child. "I"m getting another dog for me", I told them. And it was true. I wanted to get another dog while I knew Paddi had lots of good years left so that he would bond with the new dog and I would too. I wanted us to develop as a family so that, someday, in the very distant future I hoped, when Paddi moved on to whatever comes next, I would have already bonded to another dog and I'd know that Paddi also loved that dog. I got another dog so that the new dog would intersect with my and Paddi's life and so the new dog would help me keep some of Paddi alive even once he was no longer in this life.

And we three have bonded indeed. Paddi and I are both absolutely crazy about Otis. And, well, Otis is absolutely crazy. He completely idolizes Paddi. Otis and Paddi are inextricably linked. As am I to both of them. And that will always be true. And for that I'm so grateful.

There's so much more I could say and I'm not sure why I'm saying any of this now. Paddi's gimpy and sore, but his spririt is still great. He's not ready to go, but I guess I'm just becoming aware that, at some point, in the not too distant future, in all likelihood he will be. And I want to be there for him like he has always been for me. No matter what. I want to make sure I do the right thing for him. I owe him, at the very least, that much.

So today is bittersweet - celebrating Paddi's birthday with the recognition that it may be his last, but with gratitude for having been lucky enough to have him in my life for as long as I have and with all the love that is possible.

Paddington Larson (May 21, 1994 - August 16, 2006)

Just Doing It

Monday - Run 4.1 miles
Tuesday - Swim 1 mile
Wednesday - Run 4.0 mile (trail)/Cycle 5 miles (to work)
Thursday - Cycle 21 miles
Friday - Cycle 5 miles (to work)
Saturday - Cycle - 51 miles
Sunday - Run 6.5 miles (treadmill - yuck!)
Monday - Run 3.5 miles
Tuesday - Run 4.1 miles

Shame On Me

Today I did something shameful. Something I swore I would never do. I'm so appalled that it is difficult for me to write about it. They say, however, that confession is good for the soul.

But before I confess, I must share with you the reasons for my transgression. I know this will sound like a lame excuse, but I just couldn't take it anymore. It's the heat.

Normally the heat here doesn't bother me. I'll ride my bike in the middle of the day when the mercury is in the triple digits and all my biking buddies call me crazy and refuse to join me. I made it through all of last summer with no air conditioning in my car. (my car has black leather interior) (smart, I know). It didn't even bother me that much. (well, the 3rd degree burns on the backs of my legs were a bit of a drag).

For the most part, I even kind of like the heat. But today for some reason, I had had enough.

Maybe it was because I've been wallowing in it pretty much nonstop all weekend. Yesterday started with a 50 mile bike ride. Then I went to a BBQ that was outside and could be best described as a sweat fest. With mosquitoes. After that, I attended a friend's birthday party. When we arrived at the hosts' house, I was excited and relieved to see that this shindig was an indoor event. From the preceding BBQ, I was already as gritty and sweaty as an AT through-hiker and I couldn't wait to get inside the cool air conditioned goodness of my friends' house. When we walked in, however, much to my dismay, I quickly saw that the place was packed with people, but the air did not appear to be conditioned at all. Quite the opposite - it was outrageously and stiflingly hot.

At one point, I all but blacked out. I couldn't hear what anyone was saying including the people talking to me - all I could see were mouths moving and hot air being emitted into the already inferno-like space surrounding me. Finally, in my peripheral vision, I saw a fan oscillating across the room. Like a beacon in the night, it drew me near. I took off, mid-conversation, to make my way through the hot-air-spewing crowd so I could claim a spot in front of the fan. Whoever was located by the circulating air would be my conversation partner for the rest of the evening - I didn't care if it was Osama himself - I was all about the fan. And it was a good move too. Within minutes, my sweat had dried and I was able to see straight again. But it was still bloody hot in there.

Then this morning I went kayaking for a couple of hours. I took the kids of some good friends of mine and I ended up doing all the work of paddling the three of us around Redbud Isle and back. (the kids are 5 and 8 and not only didn't help with the paddling but actually dragged their paddles in the water, thereby making my job even more strenuous) (but they were very cute and loved the turtles so it was worth it). It was hot out there by the time we started and even hotter by the time we finished.

Later in the afternoon I tried to take a nap, but various things woke me up repeatedly. Finally I decided I should go for a run to try to wake up and also to get some more miles in. But I couldn't bear to run outside since it was, by then, the heat of the day. Not only couldn't I bear to run outside but, by that point, I couldn't even bear to be outside at all. So that's when I did the unthinkable.

I drove my car to the gym to run on the treadmill. The gym is 4 blocks from my house. I am pathetic.

But before you judge me, you should know that I have already been punished for my misdeed by some apparently immediate form of environmental karmic retribution. As if 6.5 miles on the treadmill weren't torture enough, after I got home and showered, I noticed that the house seemed kind of warm. I looked at the thermostat and it was blank. No A/C. Normally I'd be freaked out and panic-stricken and totally clueless as to what I should do to fix it but this has happened before. I knew exactly what needed to be done. So I spent the next 45 minutes in my attic bailing 5 gallons of water out of the overflow pan of my air conditioning unit with a turkey baster.

When I finally emerged from the attic, dehydrated and covered with insulation, I took the dogs outside for their evening walk. Although the temperature was still hovering right around 100, it actually felt cool to me.

The Elixir of Life

Hi, my name is Ami. I'm a javaholic.

Tripping

I love to travel. There is something so exciting to me about exploring new places. Of course some places are better and more exciting than others, but I like seeing anything new.

I love to see every part of a place too, not just the shiny parts meant for tourists. I seek out the neighborhoods where the real people live and even the underbelly where the danger lies (within reason). In fact, for the most part, I stay away from the shiny parts. They tend to look alike no matter where you go. And the people in those places tend to be ugly Americans doing and seeing only what they are told to do and see. I want to experience what's real and unique and interesting and local.

My very favorite places are those that are far away from people and traffic and the modern world. Immersing myself in nature is the best way to reconnect with myself and what's truly important. It's the best way to lose all the petty concerns and frustrations that seem to accumulate over the days and weeks between vacations. Nature is the best therapy and it provides immediate results.

I'm fortunate in many ways, one of which is that I've had the opportunity to do a lot of traveling in my life. I lived in Italy for several months and have traveled all over Europe. I've also done extended traveling all over Mexico and Canada and the United States.

But I haven't taken a big trip in a while. It has been too long. And I have an ever-growing list of places I have not yet seen and would love to visit. Lately I've started feeling antsy and ready to do something big. At least as big as I can manage within the confines of my life and obligations right now.

I'm going to Seattle again next week, but I go there often and know that whole area well. That doesn't feel very big at all.

I'm supposed to go on a sailing trip with some friends in the British Virgin Islands in November. (On a 38 foot Island Packet). That will be fantastic, I'm sure. But it's not quite big enough.

And I'm going to Guatemala with my dad in Jan. I'm itching for something bigger than that too though. Something that I plan and that takes me somewhere I really want to see in a way that really lets me see it.

For me, the best way to travel is with my best friend or a very select small group of friends or sometimes on my own. You won't catch me with an organized tour group or guide. The perfect trip consists of about 85% hard core adventure and 15% cush.

Here are the frontrunners on my list for the next big trip (in no particular order):

* Traveling all over New Zealand and Australia in a VW camper van
* Backpacking a 2-week stretch of the Pacific Crest Trail
* Kayaking in Alaska
* Exploring Chile and Argentina, esp. Patagonia

Since I don't go with organized groups, these things require a fair amount of planning on my part. But that's part of the fun. And this is how it always starts...

Texas French Bread and Corn Fruit*

So is it Texas bread or is it French bread? Aren't they mutually exclusive? Calling it Texas French Bread doesn't make any sense if you think about it. But then again, I'm probably the only person on earth who has thought about it. Sigh.

Name notwithstanding, they do make really good bread. Especially their whole wheat sourdough. Holy crap that stuff is good.

Yesterday morning I realized that I had tomato, avocado and turkey at home, but no bread. This prevented me from making a sandwich to take to work before I left my house. Skilled problem solver that I am, however, I was able to come up with an alternate solution. I went home for lunch and, on the way, I stopped at Texas French Bread to buy a loaf of their whole wheat sourdough bread.

My new very favorite sandwich in the whole wide world consists of these ingredients and only these. By the way, don't F it up by adding or subtracting or substituting anything. You'll think you can do it better or cheaper, but you can't improve on perfection. Just trust me on this. Here's what you do:

Onto really good whole grain bread (preferrably TFB whole wheat sourdough), mush up some fresh avocado on once slice and, on the other slice, spread that super expensive greek yogurt (the name of which I can't remember right now)(yes, I'm too lazy to go find out). I know you're thinking, "what? yogurt on a sandwich? Is this girl totally whacked?" And the answer is yes, I am totally whacked, but not because of the yogurt. So just try it. But you must use this fancy Greek stuff - that's very important. (but not so important that I'm willing to go to the kitchen to see what it's called). Anyway, I think you can only get this stuff at Central Market or Whole Foods and it will make you recoil the first time you see how much it costs, but it is so damn good and much thicker than regular yogurt. It's a texture thing mostly. But it tastes really good too. Don't, and I repeat - don't try to use regular Dannon or similar yogurt - it won't work. And, this should go without saying, but I'll tell you anyway, only use the plain kind of yogurt. The flavored kind would be nasty. Duh.

So, are you still with me? The rest is much more basic. Just slice up some fresh tomato and add some deli sliced turkey - the good kind not the nasty pre-packaged stuff. No honey mesquite chipotle barbecue pastrami flavored turkey either. Just some nice oven roasted turkey or, if you insist, you can get smoked. Sprinkle a little black pepper on the whole works and then put it all together. Slice it on the diagonal. Unless your mom was a rectangle slicer, in which case you may slice it straight across. However, please be aware that triangles taste better and I strongly suspect are better for you. And there you have it. The perfect sammich. Mmmmm.... turkey sandwich (said like Homer Simpson with a small dribble of drool running down chin).

I hope I don't get burned out on this delicacy. For a while, way back when, I used to eat turkey sandwiches for lunch every day. We used the nasty kind of turkey back then though. You know - the slimy prepackaged kind that uses turkey parts unknown and unpronounceable. One day, I just couldn't eat it any more. I couldn't choke down another bite of turkey. I had burned out on turkey. Much like my recent workout burnout. Perhaps I'm genetically predisposed to burning out? Anyway, years later, it is now appealing to me. Especially this master rendition of the turkey sandwich. It is elegant in its simplicity. Good and good for you. And it's pretty too. You know you want one now...

But really all that has nothing to do with this story other than to explain, in the most long-winded way conceiveable, why I stopped at Texas French Bread to buy a loaf of bread. Here's the real story. (although it's not much more interesting than the preceding backstory) (don't say I didn't warn you).

So I walked up to the counter and ordered my loaf of bread. I have bought it at this location before, although I don't get it often. I started to get slightly anxious when I noticed that there were no sourdough whole wheat loaves visible in the bins of bread behind the counter. And, sure enough, the woman at the register turned to ask the sandwich makers on the other side of the store if there was enough whole wheat sourdough to sell me a loaf. They said no.

"What?!", I exclaimed. "How about half a loaf?", I said in a slightly shrill tone that smacked of desperation. She turned to the sandwich guys and gave them a look as if to say, "this crazy lady won't leave me alone. Can you please sell her half a loaf if only just to get her off my back?". But the sandwich makers, who were taunting me by making sandwiches on that very bread as this whole episode unfolded, would have none of it. They cold-heartedly said, yet again, "no".

Then the clerk turned to me and declared, "We don't sell loaves of that kind of bread. We just use it for making sandwiches."
"But it's listed on your sign as one of the types of bread you sell by the loaf", I retorted while pointing up at the big blackboard sign behind her. She too looked at the sign, which clearly listed my desired purchase as a viable option. But she merely shrugged and said, "Well, we don't sell it here".

WTF?!!! I didn't say that. But I did think it. Then, in an effort to appease me, she offered to sell me a loaf of regular whole wheat bread instead. It was like offering baby aspirin to a crack addict. (or something)(okay, it was nothing like that) But the turkey and avocado and tomato were waiting at home and I didn't have time to make another trip somewhere just for bread, so I conceded and bought the second best option. With a visible pout, I reluctantly exchanged my money for the inferior loaf.

As it turns out, the bread was pretty good, and the sandwich was still mighty fine. I'm convinced it would have been better with the sourdough whole wheat bread though. And I still don't know if the loaf I wanted or the loaf I ended up with was Texas bread or French bread. That still makes no sense.

I never thought about it before this incident. And now that it's off my chest, I probably won't ever think of it again. But you will. Every time you pass a Texas French Bread.

Oh - and here's one more little stupid thing that you can now be perplexed and slightly annoyed by as much as I am (which is not much). Have you seen that Randall's ad that's playing now on TV? It's all about summer fruits and how it's peak season for fruit and how Randall's has the best fruit, blah, blah, blah. All the narrative talks about is fruit. And they show all these photographs of delectable looking blueberries and cherries and watermelon and peaches. ... And corn.

Corn isn't fruit, is it?

Need I say more?

* NOTE: If you aren't from this area, this post will make no sense to you. Even if you are from this area, this post might not make any sense to you. But please humor me and read it anyway. Leave lots of comments. It's important to talk about these pressing issues. So go ahead, don't be shy.

Hurts So Good

No, don't get all excited - this isn't a smutty post.

Finally, after weeks of barely and unenthusiastically slogging through minimal running miles and not riding or swimming at all, I'm back to actually looking forward to and enjoying this stuff!

Sunday - biked 56 miles
Monday - swam 1 mile
Tuesday - ran 4.1 miles
Wednesday - biked 18.25 miles
Thursday - 5 mile trail run
Friday - off
Saturday - ran 4.1 miles and paddled 8 miles
Sunday - biked 30 (super hilly) miles
Today - ran 4.1 miles

Gee - I wonder how I got so burned out in the first place?

But it feels so good (masochistically speaking) and it's finally fun again (masochistically speaking) for the first time in a long time.

Hallelujah!

I Was Just Talking About You...

I hate it when someone tells me they were just talking about me with someone else but won't tell me what they were saying. I also hate it when someone tells me they think I look like someone else but I don't know the person who I apparently look like.

We can't possibly be objective about ourselves. So how do we ever really know who we are?

We know who we think we are. And who we'd like to be. And it shouldn't matter what other people think. But doesn't it? After all, if how we see ourselves is substantially different from how others see us, then who are we really? Will the real Slim Shady please stand up?

I often wonder about this. How do I think of myself? How do others think of me?

Am I pretty or ugly or fat or thin or funny or obnoxious or athletic or smart or pretentious or accepting or shy or tall or short or elitist or sexy or fun or sarcastic or outdoorsy or lazy or active or eager or ambivalent or blonde or brunette or happy or dark or social or guarded or beautiful or exotic or ordinary or noticeable or invisible or unique or cliche or sweet or petty or intellectual or affected or outgoing or boring or exciting or hot or cold or bright or analytical or spontaneous or sensitive or generous or reliable or flaky or serious or impetuous or young or old thoughtful or callous or cynical or romantic or conventional or open or repressed or wild or reserved or demanding or forgiving or crazy or sane or extroverted or introverted or charming or desireable or genuine or faithful or responsible or immature or grounded or insightful or empathetic or available or realistic? Or not?

I think I know who I am. At least I know who I think I am. But who am I? Who are you?

No! Sleep! Til Corpus!

Work took me to lovely Corpus Christi for a couple of days last week. Although I've been to Port Aransas and Padre before, I had never spent any time in Corpus. Now I see that all this time I wasn't missing much. If anything.

But a change of scenery is always nice and I love to explore new places so as far as I was concerned, this was actually a pretty good gig.

I decided to take Paddington with me. Paddi and I spent almost the entire year of 2001 traveling all over the U.S. and Canada in a VW Camper van. Since then, however, our road trips have been few and far between. So this was a great excuse to pack up and hit the road. Just the two of us. Just like old times.

My car does not need any gratuitous miles on it. Not does it have a CD player. So I decided to rent a car for our little journey. I asked for a compact car, but ended up getting a behemoth of a vehicle. They said it was an SUV but it looked more like a megavan to me. Whatever you call it, the thing was cavernous and truly heinous looking but it worked quite well for our purposes.

Paddi made it in just fine with the help of his trusty dogramp.



This monster of a vehicle had 2 rows of seats in the back. I folded the rearmost row of seats down to make a nice little nest for Paddi. The rental contract clearly stated, "no pets" but Paddington is really more like a kid to me than a pet, so I was pretty sure that provision didn't apply to him. Just to be on the safe side, however, I covered said nest with blankets. Looked pretty cushy back there too from what I could see as I drove.



I left Paddi in the car while I checked into the hotel. Although I knew they allowed dogs, there was some fine print that mentioned something about only accepting dogs up to 20 pounds. If the need arose, I was prepared to argue that Paddi is really the same as five 20-pound dogs. And there's no limit to the number of 20-pound dogs. So what's the problem, huh? But, thankfully, the issue did not arise. When I walked in the front door with Paddi, nobody said anything. They just stared at the arthritic moose of a dog lumbering across the lobby. I think they're more used to seeing little dogs. Perhaps it has something to do with the 20 pound rule?

In general, but not without exception, hotels that allow dogs are not the swankiest of places. Let's just say that the hotel in which we stayed was definitely not an exception to that general rule.

But it did have a nice view.


And a pool.


We like to travel light, which requires a certain amount of resourcefulness. I always ask my friends if they use the plastic liner that comes with the ice bucket in hotel rooms. I tell them that if they don't, they really should. That goes for you too. Here's why:





While I was at work, Paddi mostly rested. At least as far as I know.



But in the mornings and when I got home from work, he was ready to go for a walk. (Food and water dishes are optional, but we never leave home without his favorite bone)



Although the crazy thick humidity made retrieving difficult.



In the evenings, we hung out, relaxed, and watched some TV. Like any self-respecting male, Paddington took command of the remote control.



Just as we started getting used to our new routine in Corpus, it was time to hit the road and head back to Austin.

We had a good trip, but what they say really is true. There's no place like home.