and now for something really stoopid

Monday

12:42pm:

I'm on stakeout.  The people around me are going about their business, totally oblivious to my mission.  I blend in perfectly.

12:45pm:

No change, but something should be happening at any minute.  My heart rate increases.

12:55pm:

I'm still waiting for "the thing" to happen.  I continue to blend in perfectly.  I'm getting bored.   And a bit hungry.  I should have brought snacks.  On TV and movies, there's always snacks at a stakeout.

1:00pm:

Still nothing.  Screw this.  Mobilize plan B.  I'm going in!

1:02pm:

I am now inside the compound.  I'm absorbing the necessary information without tipping anyone off to my true purpose.  As reluctant as I am to do so, I realize I must fall in line with the others.

1:10pm:

Still in line.  *YAWN*

1:17pm-ish:

At last, I am in position.  I speak.
"Uhm... yeah.... Uh..."  I should have rehearsed this better, "I... uh... lost a couple of RedBox videos in the drive-thru drop box yesterday.  I saw that the mail is collected from there at 12:45 on weekdays, so I came by to.... uh.... get them"

She speaks.
"Videos?", *please not so loud!*  "Are they Netflix videos?" *seriously, I can hear just fine!  Turn it down a coupla notches!  The others might HEAR you!*

Me again.
"Uhm, no.  They're RedBox videos?  They were accidentally dropped in with some mail yesterday, and I just want to get them back so I can return them to RedBox" *pleased at my adept use of passive voice so that I never confessed that I was the one who put RedBox videos in the mailbox*

She
"OH!" *was that a hint of a smile?  This isn't funny!  It's just embarrassing and stupid!*  Actually, it's my job today to collect from the drop box and I'm way behind.  I don't know when I'll get to it.  I can take down your information though. "

I give her my information - name, phone number, video titles.  I tell her that I have  PO box there that, should she find them, she can just put them in.  "That would be awesome", I add pamperingly.  She is surprisingly friendly.  I think she might actually do it!  *ominous mistake*

Monday night

No word.  I check the PO box.  It seems absolutely cavernous in its stark foresaken devoidness.

Tuesday

I call.  Tell my story from scratch because I talk to a different person who knows nothing about any videos.  She takes down all my information.  I think she might actually do it!  *when will I learn?*

Wednesday

No word.  I check the PO box.  It's an absolute lonely chasm of  yawning hollowness.

I call again.  Talk to someone else.  He says, "Oh, well that mail went down to the sorting facility on Monday".  Note:  it's Wednesday... *big sigh*

"Right, I would just like to know who I need to sleep with what I need to do to retrieve those videos."

He gives the number to the sorting facility.  Long, long message followed by a beep.  I tell my story from scratch again.  This would not be my only message to the sorting facility who never returns my call despite their promise.

Thursday

Sorting facility calls me.  By this point, I've resigned myself to having to pay $50 for a couple of mediocre videos that I will never see again in my life.  I'm brainstorming things I can sell for $50 to make my universe right again.  But...

He speaks.
"Yeah, I got your videos and sent them back to the branch on Tuesday.  They sent them back here for some reason".  *thanks a lot for NOTHING branch people!* 

He says he'll try again.  He's got my PO box number and will send them directly there.  I should have them on Friday.  He sounds friendly and competent and helpful, but I've got walls up  now.

Friday

I check the PO box.  It's like Christmas in there.
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reality check

It was an unseasonably warm afternoon last Wednesday.  Kids were just getting out of school.  People were out and about, running errands, going to or from work, etc.  I was doing the crossing guard thing.

 I had two girls ready to cross the street and found a moment when the traffic wasn't too jammed up to do just that.  The light changed, the traffic stopped, the walk sign began to flash and buzz. 

The SUV came barrelling through.

I saw her coming, and so did the girls.  I knew she wasn't going to stop.  Despite the flashing school zone lights.  Despite the flourescent signs.  Despite the stopped cars.  Despite the other drivers honking at her.  Despite me and the kids.  She drove on through at about 45 miles per hour.

I was standing near the edge of the road, and she was in the lane closest to me.  If I wanted to, I could have reached out my stop sign and scratched that SUV up good, but I didn't.  Not in real life anyway. 

I watched her face as she drove by.  She actually looked a little startled, probably from the other cars honking at her.  Maybe it was just dawning on her that something was different. 

And it stayed with me.  For hours afterward.

There are speeders every day.  There are the occassional red light runners.  Oddly, this was the first time they were ever in combination.  It's like some drivers can only concentrate on one rule at a time.

"Okay, I can reduce my speed, but I can't pay attention to the traffic light at the same time" or vice versa.

So yeah, the barrelling SUV bothered me - not in a scared-the-bejezuss-outta-me way, but in a how-can-she-have-been-so-effing-clueless way.  It bothered me so much, I vented a bit on my facebook when I got home.  I hardly ever put anything on my facebook wall, can't remember the last thing, and don't care enough now to go check. 

Later that evening, I was still all *razzum frazzum razzum frazzum*.  I vented to Magnum as we went for our old folks walk.  I was replaying it in my head too much.  Then I would replay the other version - the one where I scratch her up. 

I wasn't proud of this.

I'm not posting this to b*tch about that driver.  Eventually, I did let it go.  But I would have liked the letting go to have happened sooner.  And honestly, as I rehash it out here, I'm starting to feel the *razzum frazzums* trying to bubble up again. 

So, I'm seeking advice again.  How do you let things go and keep them from messing with you after they're done and gone?  Is there an event or situation you still can't let go of?
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Silver Liningness Sunday

It's the last Sunday of January already!  The weeks are a-flying.  I thought I'd do a little review of the month to kick off this week's silver liningness:

• I've run 113.5 miles so far this month (gotta include that .5).  This included getting new compression tights and racing a strange person in the dark.
• I did 5 artworks.  One was a portrait of Rafael Nadal who lost in the Australian Open final yesterday.  Did my portrait help him get to the finals, or contribute to his losing?  I'm actually a bit superstitiously sports curious and pondering what to do for the Super Bowl. 
• I unloaded a bunch of Run with Lumber crap supplies.  I chaired that event for 6 years and am glad to hand over the responsibility to my worthy successor.  I'm also very glad to have all that crap outta my house.
• Tutoring biz was steady but not overwhelming this month.  Carry on!
• I've managed to keep up with NaBloPoMo and blog each day in January.  I'm going to sign up for February.  Anyone else??

Run With Lumber 2011 Success

As for this past week, it was another goody.  Chaco and I went bowling yesterday.  Notice that we can rearrange the letters of "Chaco" to spell "Coach".  He gave me some helpful pointers, and I felt and saw results almost immediately.  Not all that tough to do since I used to basically walk up to the line and just throw the ball in the general direction of the pins. 

And did I mention that I got my very own bowling ball this week (SQUEE!)?  It's pretty.  My new goal is to break 150.

I was working with a new young tutor student and wanted to assess her skill level.  I asked her a few questions regarding her knowledge of math terms and asked, "What is a negative number?"  She answered "One that isn't very good".  I think I might need to make a list of favorite incorrect answers.

As always, I'm thankful for my blog friendships and the support and camaraderie that go with them.  They keep me positively positive!  I less-than-three all of you!
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forward

Hello and welcome to Illustration Friday Saturday.  This week's prompt is "forward", and I guess I still have bicycles on the brain, so  drew one.

I was going for the perspective shot here, the whole idea of moving "forward".  I for one, have yet to master going backwards on a bicycle - on purpose anyway.  

love hurts

One minute, we were happily reunited at the end of a long day, looking forward to some quality time together, the next, it was all wrong.  So so wrong.

I was just a poor college student at the time, but life was good.  In about another year, I'd have my degree and be poor student no more. 

That day had progressed like most other days.  A day of classes and homework.  It was late afternoon when I tiredly retrieved my bicycle from the rack and began heading for comfy home.

Pedalling easily across campus, I took in the fresh air and the welcome movement after a day in the books.  It was overcast, like it was going to rain.  I noticed a car headed in my direction.  It was an Audi.  I noticed it begin to turn left.  And keep on turning.

There was no time for me to react, to turn my bicycle or shield myself in any way.  At that point, everything turned all slow motion.  There was the smack of the car hitting my bike.  Slow motion, I was in the air.  Slow motion, I was on the hood.  Slow motion, I was on the windshield.  Slow motion, I was on the edge of the hood.  Slow motion, I dropped to the ground. 

The next thing I remember was people standing over me.  Other students.

"Are you okay??"

*standing and staring*

"I'll be a witness for you!"

And the driver of the car, emerging.  "OH  MY  GOD, Are you okay?!  I didn't see you!  Are you okay?!"

I was a bit dazed and surprised, but otherwise okay.  These days, such a thing just might send me blubbering to my Chiropractor and begging, "Do me!  Do me NOW!"  But back then, yeah I was a bit bruised, but none the worse for wear.

Some of the rubber-necking students helped me up and picked my backpack off the ground.  Ironically, I had landed on my physics book while demonstrating Newton's laws of motion.  Ironically, the woman who hit me did so while making an illegal turn towards the Law building.

I was still feeling a bit dazed, but glad that I really wasn't hurting much.  Then, I picked up my bicycle. 

It was a robust mountain bike - specifically a Specialized StumpJumper.  I'd gotten it second hand at a great price.  I loved that bike. 

And it was broken. 

It couldn't walk roll at all.  The front rim was like a taco, the front fork a nearly useless appendage.  It broke my heart.  My bike had saved me by taking the brunt of the impact.

The Audi driver was still a bit freaked out.  My broken bicycle, I think, actually perked her up because now she could do something to make amends.  She drove me home, all the while, she was talking nervously and continuing to apologize.  All the while, I was wondering if it was safe to be riding with her.

She gave me her address and telephone number, told me to have the bike repaired and she would pay for it.  I took my bicycle straight from her car and transported it to my little hatchback and headed for the bike shop. 

"Do me!  Do me NOW!", I begged the shop guy.  Uhm... for the bike repairs I mean.

It was a few days, but eventually she was back as good as new.  My bodyguard.  Years later, I sold her to a friend of mine in upstate New York who coordinates host families for foreign exchange students.  I recently heard from my friend, and she tells me how the bike is still enjoyed by the many students that shuttle through.  

 

Fresh from the "spa"!

So I'm feeling a little bicycle love today. And I just picked Tessa up from her annual tune up at the shop.

She's beautiful!

dear darkness

The morning was dark.  There was no moon. It seems to bring out the strange.

Mouse Town was particularly eerie.  Recall that Mouse Town (my personal term of endearment) consists of several acres of undeveloped land that sits in limbo ever since the a booming community of Preble Mice was discovered.  Mouse Town is along one of my favorite running routes and I enjoy the break from civilization.  On these dark mornings, it's almost otherworldy.  No lights, no concrete, no human evidence other than the trampled trails. 

I have seen and heard coyotes in Mouse Town.  I had an interesting encounter with a crazed deer in Mouse Town.  I have yet to meet any of the rodentia. 

This morning I emerged from the darkness and feralness of Mouse Town and was thinking that the remainder of the run would be relatively tame.  I passed by a high school kid walking to school.  He carried a lit-up iPod and was making noises at it (singing?).  A little further on, I stopped to wait at a crosswalk and the kid joined me.  He was about six feet tall and gangly, wearing a backpack over a black leather jacket, jeans, army jungle boots, and a hickish mesh cap. 

Our light turned and I resumed my run across the 6-lane road and soon both heard and felt the jungle boots slapping against the pavement.  The kid was also running now.  He was racing me.  How fun!  At least I hoped he was racing me as opposed to being about to pounce on me and beat me to a pulp just because I'd heard him singing. 

But then, I reasoned, if he was going to pounce and beat me to a pulp, he wouldn't do it in the well-lit intersection of a 6-lane commuter road.  No, he must be racing since, additionally, I was carrying nothing of value for him to mug me for.  Well, I was wearing the awesome tights, but I don't think they're his size.

He surged ahead just as we made it to the curb and continued running full out.  He continued for about a half a block, then slowed to a shuffle.  At that point, I reminded myself that not everybody walking with a backpack early in the morning is necessarily a high school kid.  It was still a bit early for school, but I often encounter kids who have morning clubs and such.  This kid looked more like he had a smoking circle to attend, but who knows.

He moved to the side to allow me to pass and turned towards me.  I smiled and thanked him for the race as I went by.  He was panting heavily and giving me a look that said, "Why would you want to keep running?!"

At that, I decided I liked him.

don't try this at home, or anywhere

If at first you don't succeed, failure may be your style. - Quentin Crisp

It would be a night to remember. 

I was with three of my best friends.  Late spring.  Beautiful night.  We were all 17-years-old and very very wise.  Or so we thought.  Being young and wise and high on friendship and the beautiful night (and there was probably beer present, I'm thinking yeah), we waxed philosophically about our lives and deep topics like friendship and boys and

cow-tipping.

For those unfamiliar with the term "cow-tipping", it's something of rural lore pertaining to the act of tipping over cows.  No, not "tripping" over cows.  TIPPING over cows, as in pushing on them until they fall over.  For those who have heard of this and wonder of it's truth, there is NO truth!  It's all a big MYTH!!

Three of the four of us didn't know that.  We do now.

The fourth one was a rancher girl named Stephanie.  Stephanie lived in the outskirts of our little hometown.  There were lots of smallish hobby-type farms and such around our boonie-filled town, but Stephanie's place was actually quite an operation.  A real ranch that was her family's business.

And they had cows.  Lots of cows. 

That's where we were that night, in a cow pasture under the moon and the stars.  The four of us, the many cows, and  Stephanie's dogs, Shep and Red Neck (really, those were their names).  I remember sitting on the ground, leaning against Red Neck as our discussion turned to cow-tipping. 

Theresa was most curious and asked Stephanie if it was true. 

"Yeah, we tip them over all the time.  Want to do one now?"

Of course we did. 

"Just find one in the open that isn't moving around much.  That means that it's probably asleep.", Stephanie instructed, "then just walk up to it quietly, and then SHOVE it good!"

Okay, the three of us would do this together.  In the dim moonlight, we found a suitable victim. 

"I don't know, it seems kinda mean", Carolyn was having misgivings. 

"Nah, they pretty much sleep through the whole thing", Stephanie assured.

We approached.  Some of the other cows moved off slowly, but our target remained. 

I remember how, up close, cows are a lot bigger than they look on TV and the movies.  That was part of the fun of hanging out at Stephanie's - all that real world knowledge!  This cow was no exception.  It suddenly seemed enormous. 

Nevertheless, the three of us positioned ourselves - legs anchored, hands lightly on the cow's flanks. 

"Okay," I whispered (why was it me that counted us off?), "one... two... THREE!"  BIG SHOVE!

That cow did not tip.  Didn't come close to tipping.  The only things that fell over were Theresa, Carolyn, and me.  The cow, on the other hand, was I think a little pissed off at the whole thing.  She reared her head at us, kicked a little, and took off for about 10 steps.  The other cows were all a little wtf?  too.   In today's terms, it was an epic fail.

I was glad it was dark and I wasn't quite sure what I'd landed in.  The three of us laid there laughing at each other, but clearly Stephanie was laughing the hardest. 

"Cows don't sleep standing up (YOU BUTTHEADS)!  That's just a bunch of bullsh*t somebody made up!  Like you're really gonna tip one over!"

And then, "Come on over to the barn, I'll hose you all down".

A night to remember.

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