ARGH!

OK, so it's been almost a month since my last update, good intentions very much notwithstanding. (If they really do pave the road to hell, I'm in big trouble right now.)

Here's the 30-second summation of the past few weeks:

1) Went to Louisville to kick off my third semester in the MFA program.
2) Went to San Luis Obispo for Thanksgiving, where I learned how to ride a motorcycle, thanks to a patient lesson from my brother the pod person.
3) Sprained my ankle running the trail around the Rose Bowl—not badly enough to need crutches or anything, just enough to keep me from running for awhile. Grr.

In between and entwined with all of the above are the usual suspects for killing time in my life: piano practice, sleeping, writing, avoiding writing... you know the drill by now. (And if you don't, just browse through the archives.)

One thing I've been noticing lately is how much I really don't like winter. I know, I know... I live in California, what do I know about winter? Well, I may be a baby, but all I can say is, 65 degrees Fahrenheit is COLD. Yesterday I wore a turtleneck under a sweater under a fleece to work. Today I spent a fair amount of time when not actually proofreading hunched over my desk in a desperate approximation of the fetal position as a way to try to retain as much warmth as possible (which turned out to be not much).

Also, I hate that it gets dark at 5pm. Boo!

In short, I really really really miss summer. And I've said it before, but I'll say it again: I should have been a bear.

Run, Frogg, Run

So let's see, kind of a lot has happened since my last post. Let me explain... no, there is too much! Let me sum up:

Arrived on Saturday, October 20, in Oakland, and got picked up by M for lunch. After that, we went to SF MOMA with S, ostensibly to act cultured and high-brow, but really to give S a chance to make fun of modern art and amuse himself (and me) with frequent expressions of amazement that certain pieces of art could, in fact, be called art. (His favorite: a purely blank white canvas. That was definitely the winner of the "why is this in a museum" award, though a close runner-up would be the series of black squares in frames.)

While we were still meandering through the museum, the cowgirl arrived in the city, but she refused to join us at the price of $12.50 for a ticket that she would only benefit from for about an hour, since we had to get to Union Square to pick up our race packets. Instead she fell asleep on the lawn of Yerba Buena park/gardens, across the street from the MOMA. When we finally went out to meet her, I made the grave mistake of thinking that a homeless man (!) was her. Thankfully I saw the real her before I plopped down jovially on the grass and threw my arms around the man. Whew!

The rest of the day was all about picking up our packets, finding the friend's place where we were crashing for the night, carving pumpkins, and going to bed early so that we could be up before sunrise the next day, which was...

RACE DAY!

I slept in my race clothes because I didn't want to waste valuable sleeping time by having to get up to dress in the morning. This turned out to be not that good an idea, because my spandex capris got all stretched out. But at least I had those few precious extra minutes of sleep!

It was pretty cold waiting at the start line in Union Square, seeing as how the sun wasn't up and all. But once we got going, I could tell it would be a rare day in San Francisco; i.e., NOT FOGGY! Instead it was a truly gorgeous, clear day, not too hot but (eventually) not cold) — perfect for running. The race route wound along the Embarcadero, out to Chrissy Field, where we had excellent view of the Golden Gate Bridge. Then inland a bit, before heading down toward Baker Beach and into Golden Gate Park and back out again to finish.

I really enjoyed the run, and came across the finish line with a time of just under 2.5 hours. Woo-hoo! And I beat the cowgirl, but I think only because she got a blister early on and slowed to a walk after the first four miles (even so, she was only 40 minutes behind me).

So that was that. The next day, the cowgirl dropped me off at the BART station, where I caught the train to the airport and my plane... just in time to head back to a southern California that seemed to be going up in flames.

Craziness.

The next few days I spent staring out my window at work at a sky that was covered in smoke. My uncle and his family nearly had to evacuate; meanwhile my brother in San Diego was fine, except for the fact that he spent his day off trying to get CLOSER to the fires, which would indicate some possible mental-health issues... or else just the fact that he is a boy, I guess.

But anyway, thank God the fires are mostly contained now, and now here I am in the midst of packing for my next trip out to Louisville, where I will embark on my third semester in my creative writing program. I leave on Thursday, and if you don't know by now that I am waiting til the last minute to get everything done that I need to, you are clearly new to this blog.

(Of course, I suppose I could have spent the past hour catching up on all the reading I am behind on, etc., instead of blogging. Too bad I didn't think of that about an hour ago, huh. Oh well.)

Slow and Steady Finishes the Race...We Hope!

Well, the big day is nearly here... on Sunday I'll be running in the Nike Women's Half-Marathon in San Francisco! At least, I hope I'll be running. The other night I strained a muscle in my left leg. Then the following evening, I ran on it again, thinking that maybe the muscle just needed to be loosened up, and that it would be no big deal. This turned out to be a mistake.

Yes, I do make them occasionally. But don't tell anyone.

Anyway, the point being, I've spent most of last night and lots of time today icing my leg, and I'll probably have to wrap it when I do the actual race on Sunday, but I think I'll be OK. I was never trying to break any time records, so even if I have to walk some of it, I don't care. (That is kind of a lie.) I just want to finish. (That's true.)

By the way, my sister the cowgirl is going to join me on this little adventure. And she is going to try to run the race even though she hasn't trained at all. I'd give her a hard time about how unwise that is, but unfortunately, she is only planning to do exactly what I did do two years ago. So what can I say, except: "You go, cowgirl!" Who knows, she might even beat me. She's pretty tough. I guess it goes with the whole cowgirl territory.

Uh-oh, look at the time! It's after midnight... better hop off to bed before I turn into a princess! Er, wait, wrong fairytale. I mean I have to go to bed so I can wake up early enough to catch my morning flight to San Francisco!

Have a great weekend, and until I return... miss me, my darlings.

The Sweet Taste of Good Fortune...

... cookies. Mmmm!

Yes, I admit it. I am a sucker for fortune cookies. Seriously, I am. I love breaking them, and I love eating them. But most of all, I love the idea that a little piece of paper inside a crispy, crunchy, hollow micro-dessert could crack open doors of destiny heretofore unimagined.

For example, here was a delectable bit of prophecy from the other day: "Soon you will be sitting on top of the world." That sounds pretty good! Of course, at the moment, I'm still sitting in my little cube on a middle floor in a nondescript building in Los Angeles, but maybe "on top of the world" is metaphorical. Either way, I suppose I have something to look forward to. Woo-hoo! A little hope brings a lot of good to the soul.

Hey, that last sentence sounded like a fortune! Do I sense a new career opening ahead of me, as a fortune-cookie fortune writer? It would put my writing skills to work, that's for sure. Whether it would pay for the expensive writing degree that I'm currently working on is another matter. So let's turn to the fortune I got today, thanks to a co-worker who ordered Chinese for lunch and does not apparently share my love of these remarkable treats. Perhaps I'll find some wisdom to guide me:

"You will bring sunshine into someone's life."

Hmm. Not exactly explanatory of my future financial security. But hopefully this one is true...

Other times...

...I wonder what on earth gets into me (see last post).

Well, I am feeling much less pensive and wistful today. Perhaps it's because I had a good hearty laugh this morning as I listened to the news on NPR. And if you think there isn't much to laugh about on the news these days, you obviously didn't tune in to hear Bush's quotes on the current Turkey crisis (OK, maybe it isn't quite a crisis yet, but the phrase "Turkey crisis" is kind of cracking me up right now—makes me think of what you might call a Thanksgiving dinner prepared by yours truly, but that would definitely be a subject for another post).

Anyway, Bush's remarks were hysterical. Unfortunately, I cannot remember them verbatim, BUT... they included the word "diplomacy" (I'm laughing again) and a vaguely expressed desire that it should actually be utilized before rushing into rash action.

Oh, Bush... what a comedian. It is too, too bad he missed his calling.

Really.

Sometimes...

Sometimes the places I've traveled come back to haunt me.

Perhaps I shouldn't say "haunt", though. That implies a negative sensation, and I don't mean that at all. It's more like... being overtaken by a sudden conviction that I belong somewhere else. But where that is, I don't really know.

The other night, for example, as I was out jogging, I suddenly caught the scent of woodsmoke on the air (which is just starting to get the edge of a chill), and in that moment I was back in New Zealand, in the little town of Oxford where I lived about five years ago. I used to go for walks in the afternoon or early evenings; it was often cold and always quiet. As I thought of it, I felt a real pang, almost like homesickness. In my mind I could clearly see the line of trees that stand along a dirt road that branched off of one street. I loved walking between those trees. I remember the name of the road started with an "S", but it bothers me that I can't remember the rest.

Then there are times when I want to go somewhere—a certain restaurant maybe, or a store or a hiking spot—and I will realize with a sting of disappointment that the place I'm thinking of is in Berkeley (the Crepe Vine), or San Francisco (Golden Gate Park), Walnut Creek (Shell Ridge), or Christchurch (an AWESOME Thai restaurant), or Bangkok (um, LOTS of awesome Thai restaurants). Someplace that is miles and miles away, well beyond my LA horizon. It can be a little unsettling.

Sigh... Sometimes I just feel very far from home.

Life...It's Full of Suprises...

...some of which I could really do without.

Take this morning, just as an example. I got up thinking it would be a routine Saturday; nothing special. But of course that was before I went to leave for my piano lesson and nearly ran into a giant spider web, WITH the giant hairy spider in the middle of it. Which might not have been odd in and of itself, since spiders abound in my neck of suburbia. But it turned out to be pretty odd, because the spider web was not stretched out between a couple of trees, or from the porch railing to the roof, or anywhere else that might have made some sense. Instead, the spider web, with, let me remind you, the spider as well, was located inside my car, spread out across the driver side door. Which, again, might not have been odd — except the door had been closed all night, and so had the window.

Cue Twilight Zone music.

I am hoping that this bizaare incident is not a harbinger (I love that word) of... well, of anything that would involve more spiders. Because I hate them. Spiders, I mean, not harbingers. Wait, hang on a sec...

OK, I'm back. I just had to look up "harbinger" and make sure it meant what I thought it did. Thankfully, it does.

So yeah, the day got off to a weird start, but I'm an optimist. Instead of seeing the car as being half-invaded, I see it as being... um, I don't know, half-free of any more spiders?

Hmm, that doesn't seem to be as optimistic as I would have liked. Oh well, I tried. For once.

So anyway, I'd like to say there's a moral to this story, but I can't think what it might be. If you think of one, let me know. In the meantime, have a great weekend!