Author Archives

by

Counteracting the Bleah

I don’t know what happened, but starting about an hour after spinning class last night I have felt like, well, bleah. Tired, stomach a tiny bit upset (but not incredibly), just sort of sagging into the chair or couch cushions. Hmph.

And outside, it seems like nature is of the same mind. Summer seems to have officially fled the region about a month early; we all had our suspicions but this gray, cold, rainy day is definitely under the auspices of autumn and not summer. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about this. (I like the idea of not having long runs in the baking heat, but there is something to be said for the slightly warmer weather.)

As I have a long run scheduled for Saturday morning, I think I am heading home to lie down and see if I can bounce back. (Book club for tonight, at this point, is also up in the air.) But I am going to look at pretty pictures and think of bright, cheery things. That works just as well as anything else, right?

Painter's Cup

by

Avoid This Movie

Jamie S. Rich, I owe you an apology. You were right and I was wrong.

When you reviewed The Ten you mentioned that you’d never really liked The State, and so I assumed that your blisteringly negative review was because it was a similar sort of comedy that just wasn’t to your taste. I put the movie on my Netflix queue, and it finally made it to the top.

I still have something like 25 minutes to go, and I think I will save my remaining brain cells and send it back partially-unwatched. That was one of the unfunniest, most wince-inducing (but for the wrong reasons), criminal waste of talents I have experienced in a long, long, long time.

Seriously, this movie completely wastes Liev Schreiber, Paul Rudd, Justin Theroux, and Famke Janssen. Isn’t that against the law in several countries? My mind is still reeling over the sheer badness. (Doubly so because I thought the trailer was kind of funny.)

Avoid, avoid, avoid, avoid, avoid. Not even out of idle curiousity’s sake, people.

by

It’s like having a newborn, but worse

Starting Saturday afternoon I’ve been dogsitting my friend Roger’s dog, Mikey. Normally Roger’s friend Bob dogsits Mikey, but Roger’s trip overlapped one of Bob’s, and Saturday through Tuesday were empty.

And, um, I am so not cut out to be a dogsitter. Or at least not for one that I have not grown up with. Watching Jake and Gus (the last of the family dogs) was tough/annoying at times, but at the same time I also knew all their little quirks, tricks, and many years of dealing and disciplining them. With Mikey, well, it’s totally different. He’s not my dog, I don’t really set the rules. But at the same time, there are some things that are non-starters in my book—like letting him sleep on the bed with me, which is a-ok when Roger is there.

So instead he has to sleep on his own bed in the living room, and he clearly hates that. On both Saturday and Sunday night (or techically, Sunday and Monday morning) he’s started whining several times because he wants to be on the bed (and I’ve been warned by Bob that he is a bed hog, it’s not like Suzanne’s dog Bruno who is content to sleep at the foot). It’s a real joy to be woken up a little before 1am. And then again around 3 or 4am. Ooof.

It's a rough life, being a dog.Now clearly he’s not happy about Roger not being there and I know he doesn’t like changes in his routine. But as I like to be able to breathe, him on the bed is not an option at all. So now all I have is one more night where I mutter words about strangulation before finally getting up and telling him to be quiet (and then taking half an hour to fall back asleep). It’s a good thing the rest of the time he is awfully cute. Well, except when this morning he refused to get off the bed to go the bathroom one last time before I left. I finally had to lure him to the door with a dog biscuit (which I then chucked outside and he ran after it). Sure enough, a few minutes later he was up in the yard taking care of business, so it was worth me having to trick him outside, and he was just being a bit of a jerk.

Why yes, I am tired and cranky from the repeated waking ups the past two nights. Can you imagine if I had a baby? It would all end very, very badly. So not cut out for that idea at this point in my life. Instead I am just focusing on being done in 24 hours. I believe the score right now is Mikey – 4; Greg – 1.

by

Then Again, Maybe I Won’t

Last week I had a sudden, out-of-the-blue, burning desire to read old Judy Blume books from my childhood. Instead, I settled for reading Wikipedia entries on them, and while I was surprised at how many of my old favorites I remembered point-for-point (like Blubber, Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret., and Otherwise Known as Sheila the Great), the one that had quite firmly lodged itself still in my head was Then Again, Maybe I Won’t. It’s not surprising; it was the “boy hits puberty amidst personal crisis” book (and the counterpoint in many ways to Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret.), after all.

I was surprised and intrigued to learn that a lot of Blume’s books have been edited/updated to reflect the modern day. Nothing huge and plot-point shattering, but small mentions like casette tapes turning into CDs, that sort of thing. I guess it surprised me in part because I remembered reading books that had belonged to my parents and grandparents when I was growing up and having no problem with the earlier time period, but also because it hit me that the tweaks were probably in part because the rest of the books are so completely fitting into the modern day already. Then Again, Maybe I Won’t with its story about members of the family assimilating when they move from Jersey City to a wealthy town in Long Island is the sort of thing that still goes on today, after all. People rejecting/ignoring their heritage to fit in more happens as much in 2008 as it did in 1972, when you think about it. Probably the only gaping hole in the comparison between the book’s original time period and now is the existence of the internet and search engines to get a lot of the answers that the main character was wondering about.

This weekend I’m half-tempted to head to the library and check out copies of the Blume books I never did get around to read, and maybe a few of the old favorites. (Never mind the 9000 other books I have waiting to be read.) Boy, those books were great.

by

Five Things That Make Me Happy (part 8)

It’s back!

Tenba Messenger Bag
Karon found this bag and while I was initially unconvinced, I watched the video and am now totally in love with it. Special camera insert! Mesh back to stay cooler against your body on hot days! Specially lined bottom to keep it from getting wet on a damp sidewalk! Metal rings for the strap! (As someone who had a beloved messenger bag break because the rings snapped, this is particularly important.) Lots of little carrying things! Of course, at just under $100 on Amazon, it will be sitting on my wish list instead of me snatching one up. I am trying to be frugal these days.

Registration
I finally got off my butt and registered for the Philadelphia Marathon on November 23rd. (The 45th anniversary of Doctor Who, ha ha.) I’d planned to run this for a while, but actually getting around to doing so is such a great feeling. It makes it feel, well, real.

Black Orchid
My DVD of this classic Doctor Who episode showed up today. At under $9, and being a story that revolves around a cricket match, look-alikes, and a costume ball, it’s hard to not see the awesomeness. Yay! I cannot wait to watch it as well as all the extras.

Demo
I freely admit it, I never read more than an issue of Demo back in the day. I decided to give it another whirl, though, and this time I’m really enjoying it. It reminds me a bit of (bizarrely) Dubliners in how it’s just little snatches of people’s lives; it thankfully doesn’t go to James Joyce’s extreme of ending a story in mid-sentence, but I’m really liking it. I’ll definitely check out Brian Wood and Becky Cloonan‘s follow-up when it drops this fall.

Lunchtime
Why am I so hungry today? Seriously, totally ravenous. Cannot wait for lunch.

by

A Very Pleasant Surprise

A couple of weeks ago I’d mentioned that the Ellipse Center was holding the All Arlington Salon, a show for people who live and work in Arlington, running from August 1st through September 13th, and with an opening tonight.

After a lot of hemming and hawing, I decided that my Winged Migration photo would go into the show. I love the huge numbers of geese as they fly through the air. And of course, I double- and triple-guessed myself. Was it the right choice? Would people like it?

Well, apparently so; I got to the opening an hour after it began and saw the tell-tale red dot next to my photograph’s number. Someone had already bought the piece.

Sold!

So yes, that was a very nice surprise. I met the purchaser, who was super-sweet. And I’m so happy it’s going to a home with someone who wants it. The excitement wasn’t over the money, but rather that someone liked it enough to buy it. I’m quite literally over the moon.

A great way to end the day.

by

How My Head Works

While running at the gym today, my right foot started hurting, feeling like something was poking/pushing into the inside of it. I finally stopped, took off my shoe, and shook it out as well as ran my hand along the outside of my sock. Nothing.

So I ran my cool-down mile, and the whole while it is hurting more and more. Almost like a wire is jabbing into my foot at this point. I finish up, and head home. The whole way back home I am worrying a mile a minute. Have I hurt my foot again? Did something tear? Is it a sprain? Something entirely different? Maybe I should book an appointment with the podiatrist right away. Can he see me today? What about my 16-mile run on Saturday?

I (finally) got home, pulled off my shoe, and ran my fingers through it again. No sign of anything poking out that would be hurting my foot. So I pull off my sock…

…it’s a blister. Probably a little piece of grit was inside my sock and rubbing against the bottom of my foot. But that’s what all the pain was. And that, boys and girls, is how my head works at times. Why pause and think, “I’m sure nothing is wrong,” when you can freak out about it instead? *sigh*

by

The Bad Food Triangle Begins to Crumble

Over a decade ago, back when my friend Jon lived in Rockville, Maryland instead of Sydney, New South Wales, we and our friend Cary used to get together on a really regular basis. We’d hang out, maybe go somewhere, watch some movies… and inevitably we would want some dinner. And that was where the Bad Food Triangle was born.

There was a span of about six months when Jon would inevitably suggest one of three restaurants: T.G.I. Friday’s, Ruby Tuesdays, or Bennigan’s. To add to the amusement level of this predictability, two of them were in the same parking lot on one side of Rockville Pike, the third directly on the other side of the street. I am not 100% sure if it was me or Cary that first called it the “Bad Food Triangle” (alternate name: “The Triangle of Death”) but it stuck, with much amusement.

Well, the unthinkable has happened. Bennigan’s announced yesterday that it has filed for Chapter 7 bankruptcy, which means it’s going away. The End.

I will admit it, I never thought any of those three chains would go away; they just seemed so carved in stone on the American psyche. (Meanwhile, I am pretty sure the last time I ate at any of those restaurants was back in 2000 or so when Jon was home for a visit and T.G.I. Friday’s was the only place that would accomodate a large group on very short notice. I remember this trip quite vividly because there was a puddle of vomit next to my car in the parking lot, and everyone mocked me when I then moved my car. It was either that or let no one else back into the car for fear that they’d stepped in it, and after I explained that they agreed it was the right call.)

So, goodbye Bennigan’s. Jon and my old roommate Marc both loved you once up on a time, and of the three Bad Food Triangle locations you were actually my favorite. And now all we will have to remember you are some really terrifying commercials. And perhaps memories of food poisoning. Ah, those were the days.

by

Excavating Sanity

It’s pretty bad when someone asks what the most exciting thing you did last weekend and your response is, “Cleaned my apartment.” It’s doubly bad when you’re not even done, yet. But it’s actually at the top of the list for me. That’s probably because when things slide in my home, it’s not a build-up of trash or dirt, but rather piles of stuff everywhere. At first it’s just a small stack of books next to the desk, and the next thing I know half of my home is infested with piles of things.

So, I’m folding in the “clean this stuff up” path with a “get rid of things you don’t need any more” mission, and so far it’s a success. I have three bags of books and videos to go to the library; I’m especially excited about having sorted through the two comic book “long boxes” that housed my Doctor Who VHS tapes and pared them down to just two “short boxes” instead, thanks to weeding out the ones that have been released on DVD. Suddenly I have a lot more room in my closet, hurrah! That whole section of my bedroom is now a thousand times better; the stacks of books and unsorted CDs are all put away, I’ve rearranged some of the shelves, and I no longer cringe when I look at my room.

I’m not sure why I ever let it get to this level when I look at what a relief it always is to take care of it—I mean, we’re talking about an end result where I walk into my room and just stop and beam at how much better it looks. You’d think I’d be going crazy to keep it that way. The strange dichotomy of my head, I suppose. And until then I have to just keep excavating my room like some sort of bizarre archaeological dig.

It was a good weekend in addition to that, though. Charlie’s good friend Devo is visiting from Boston, and she’s super-sweet and nice to be around. We hit the Jim Henson exhibit at the Smithsonian, and while I’ve heard complaints that there aren’t that many actual Muppets on display, I really love the behind-the-scenes sketches and drawings that he created. They’re both beautiful and a creative inspiration to look at. We also hit my favorite Smithsonian museum, the Sackler Gallery; the new Yellow Mountains exhibit on that region in China was simply breathtaking.

I also finally caught The Dark Knight, which I thought was very good, although not the nerdgasm that so many others seemed to be claiming. A really cheesy ending, but so many small and individual good scenes that I’m willing to forgive. I’d be happy to see a third Nolan Bat-movie down the line.

(And last but not least, while I did not miss going to Comic-Con in the slightest, seeing everyone’s pictures makes me miss seeing my friends there. Maybe I could just go to San Diego and not enter the show? Ha ha.)

Today my throat is a little sore from running in the bad air quality. I suppose I should be thankful it’s just Code Orange and not Code Red or Purple (aka, “Don’t even think about breathing” levels of badness). By the time I was done with my run it was too late to take the bus into work, but I might just leave my car here and take the bus home, then bus it back in tomorrow. I’m enjoying my extra reading time that I get from my once-a-week public transportation.

by

No, I’m Not Going to Comic-Con

Earlier this week I had a dream about Comic-Con out in San Diego.

Karon and I had shown up to check into our room at the hotel, except the hotel had run out of rooms ages ago. So instead, everyone was being assigned a space on the hotel lobby floor where a sleeping bag was set up for us. And we didn’t even bat an eye, because that level of too-many-people insanity just seemed normal in a show that draws over 100,000 people each day.

And that is why I’m not going to Comic-Con. Sorry.

(Smell some rancid sweat and pay $15 for a bottle of water for me, though!)