...is taking on a whole new meaning. Mike and I signed up for a half-marathon. We'll be running in the Mayor's Marathon in Anchorage, Alaska on June 20th. It will be the summer solstice - 19 hours and 22 minutes of daylight! Hopefully that will be enough time to finish the 13.1 miles...
If you want to follow my progress, check out my other all-about-running blog: Running to Alaska
Wish me luck!
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Thursday, January 22, 2009
I didn't know Contra Costa County went all the way out here....
Famous last words! Mike and I have an ongoing debate - every time we visit his parents, he wants to leave late and get there even later (it's a 5+ hour drive, so we get there around 1 am). I, on the other hand, much prefer to get up really early and get there around 10 am. This weekend, we're going to Tahoe, and we have planned to spend Thursday at his parents' house. Mike wanted to leave Wednesday night, I wanted to leave Thursday morning. This time, though, Mike had a good point - he teaches in Paso Robles all day on Wednesday (until 8:30 pm)and it didn't make much sense for him to drive all the way down to Arroyo Grande Wednesday night, only to get up early Thursday morning and drive (it would add 1.5 hrs to his time in the car). So, we left from Paso last night at 9 pm. Mike took the first leg of the drive and I slept. Then at midnight, we switched places. At this point, we only had 130 miles to go. I turned to Mike and said, "you know, it hasn't rained our whole trip; we got lucky." Then I immediately chided myself for jinxing us and thought to myself "knock on wood." I didn't want to say it out loud and sound paranoid...I also thought to myself, "It's a good thing Mike took the first leg of the drive, because this is a straight shot and I won't get lost." Swear to God I thought that. Mike fell asleep about 30 seconds later and almost immediately it started raining. Hard. With large semis spraying water everywhere and a light fog making everything hazy at night. Then, I veered left. I distinctly remember thinking to myself "I hate driving these high, curvy overpasses in the rain!" Which was precisely when I got on 580 instead of staying on Hwy 5.
For the next thirty minutes I battled potholes and pooled water, trying my hardest not to hydroplane, all the while getting sprayed from every direction. I spent most of the time staring at the road, trying to anticipate potential hydroplaning moments. Here's what I also remember:
the countless signs marking down how many miles to San Francisco. But, in my defense, Hwy 80 travels West-East from San Francisco through Sacramento, so I just thought the signs were on Hwy 5 signally that. Then, I saw a sign that read "Contra Costa County" and I thought "I didn't know Contra Costa County went all the way out here...." Dumbass.
Then we hit a pothole and Mike woke up. He looked around and said "BABE, WHY ARE WE IN LIVERMORE?" and which point I just sat there, silent, because I really didn't know why. Which is when we saw the exit for "Vasco Road," which I am very familiar with, because it's the exit to get to my Grandma's house. I then realized we were on 580. Mike repeated his question and I turned to him and said "I have no idea how we got here!" He then realized that I split onto Hwy 580 from 5. At which point I got a mini-lecture on needing to pay attention. At which point he got a mini-lecture about how I hate driving unfamiliar places in the rain, by myself, at night and this is why I hate driving so late! Then we just sat and stewed, the rain coming down harder and harder by the minute. Then, the weirdest thing happened. It's only happened once before in my life - I got somewhat hysterical. In the sense that I really really really had to supress the urge to laugh uncontrollably. The mix of driving in stressful conditions, arguing with Mike, and realizing that I had just added an hour-plus onto our late, long drive just shot my nerves. But I couldn't laugh because I knew that would just infuriate Mike.
Aside: This has only happened once before. A few years ago, my dad was recovering from chemo and radiation treatments and got a really bad cold. He was super dehydrated and passed out in the bathroom. We took him to the doctor and he passed out again, when I was in the room with him. Seeing him unconscious again made me all of a sudden want to laugh. Hard. Not because I thought it was even remotely funny. Just because my nerves were SHOT. I'm not proud of this.
Mike and I decide to pull over and let the rain ease up. We ended up in the parking lot of the hotel we stayed at for Nik's wedding. Mike crawled in the back of the 4Runner with the dogs and I stayed in the front seat. After five frazzling minutes of trying to get Nugget to lay down, all was calm. I was wired though, and realized that the rain was a lot lighter than I thought. So, we got back in the car (not until after I annoyed Mike - who was trying to sleep - by trying to take pictures of the dogs. If you're bummed that I haven't posted super-cute cuddle pictures of them, blame Mike) and headed up 580 to 680 and then back over to Sacramento. All in all, in only added 60 miles to our drive, but our stop put us back a little ways, so we got in at 3:30 am! Yikes!
A rant: I despise Hwy 580. If I lived in that county and had to drive that freeway all the time, I would be emailing my congressperson and Caltrans weekly until they fixed that road. It's awful.
For the next thirty minutes I battled potholes and pooled water, trying my hardest not to hydroplane, all the while getting sprayed from every direction. I spent most of the time staring at the road, trying to anticipate potential hydroplaning moments. Here's what I also remember:
the countless signs marking down how many miles to San Francisco. But, in my defense, Hwy 80 travels West-East from San Francisco through Sacramento, so I just thought the signs were on Hwy 5 signally that. Then, I saw a sign that read "Contra Costa County" and I thought "I didn't know Contra Costa County went all the way out here...." Dumbass.
Then we hit a pothole and Mike woke up. He looked around and said "BABE, WHY ARE WE IN LIVERMORE?" and which point I just sat there, silent, because I really didn't know why. Which is when we saw the exit for "Vasco Road," which I am very familiar with, because it's the exit to get to my Grandma's house. I then realized we were on 580. Mike repeated his question and I turned to him and said "I have no idea how we got here!" He then realized that I split onto Hwy 580 from 5. At which point I got a mini-lecture on needing to pay attention. At which point he got a mini-lecture about how I hate driving unfamiliar places in the rain, by myself, at night and this is why I hate driving so late! Then we just sat and stewed, the rain coming down harder and harder by the minute. Then, the weirdest thing happened. It's only happened once before in my life - I got somewhat hysterical. In the sense that I really really really had to supress the urge to laugh uncontrollably. The mix of driving in stressful conditions, arguing with Mike, and realizing that I had just added an hour-plus onto our late, long drive just shot my nerves. But I couldn't laugh because I knew that would just infuriate Mike.
Aside: This has only happened once before. A few years ago, my dad was recovering from chemo and radiation treatments and got a really bad cold. He was super dehydrated and passed out in the bathroom. We took him to the doctor and he passed out again, when I was in the room with him. Seeing him unconscious again made me all of a sudden want to laugh. Hard. Not because I thought it was even remotely funny. Just because my nerves were SHOT. I'm not proud of this.
Mike and I decide to pull over and let the rain ease up. We ended up in the parking lot of the hotel we stayed at for Nik's wedding. Mike crawled in the back of the 4Runner with the dogs and I stayed in the front seat. After five frazzling minutes of trying to get Nugget to lay down, all was calm. I was wired though, and realized that the rain was a lot lighter than I thought. So, we got back in the car (not until after I annoyed Mike - who was trying to sleep - by trying to take pictures of the dogs. If you're bummed that I haven't posted super-cute cuddle pictures of them, blame Mike) and headed up 580 to 680 and then back over to Sacramento. All in all, in only added 60 miles to our drive, but our stop put us back a little ways, so we got in at 3:30 am! Yikes!
A rant: I despise Hwy 580. If I lived in that county and had to drive that freeway all the time, I would be emailing my congressperson and Caltrans weekly until they fixed that road. It's awful.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Picture Extraveganza
This just makes me laugh...and it might be a teensy-bit of payback for a certain pic from Disneyland that Nikki posted.
We went for a hike a couple of weeks ago. I let them off-leash. They had tons of fun. I spent the afternoon picking ticks off of Nugget.
Fun stuff!
This is funny because I practically had to put them in chokeholds to get them to stay with me long enough to take a picture. They both look ready to bolt.
Last weekend the Cuesta College bio faculty had their holiday party at a professor's house in Cambria. Her husband manages UCSB property up there and this is what they see every day! They live in this adorable adobe house. It was a great place to have a party! We went for a hike (and for once, I wasn't the only one with binoculars!) and then ate a large lunch afterwards.
a
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Book Club Read
The Gargoyle by Andrew DavidsonI've been wanting to join a book club but haven't gotten around to it. If I were in a book club though, I would suggest this book as a must-read. I just finished listening to it on CD and found myself sitting in my car at work for 30 minutes just to finish it (one of the perks of a construction site, you can do that from time to time. Hell, if the guys can pass out in their cars and snore loudly, I can listen to the end of a great book!)
This book has all the elements of a great novel: grit, suspense, love, hope, history, fantasy, reality, and humor. The premise - an ex-porn star is severly burned and finds love and the will to live through meeting a crazy woman (who claims they were lovers in Medieval Germany) - is certainly original, and well done. It is very well researched and put together. I have to put a disclaimer, though - the book can be a tad graphic, especially the first chapter, which is down-right nauseating. There is also a rather fantastical scene that seems a little weird, but makes sense in context.
The book has also inspired me to name my next pet Bougatsa, the dog's name in the book (it's a Greek pastry filling). Mike doesn't know it yet, I wonder if he'll go for it?
Oh, a side-note, totally unrelated: on December 30th, I will have four large retrievers over-night (three of the fours are about 90 lbs). Pray for me and my furniture, please.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
I'm feeling a little gender-equality pride today
I just had a little exchange with two of my neighbors.
Some background: Two of my neighbors like to rag on Mike. They like to play it off as "good old boys" humor but it really bothers me, because it's just plain rude. To tell you the truth, I find it totally offensive to me, too.
Example: Everytime I do yard work, they make comments about why isn't Mike helping me.
Example: I was rolling the trash and recycling bins to the curb a few weeks ago when Number One (I will from here on refer to them as Number One and Number Two, because I think the euphamisms are quite fitting) said to me "Jeez, do you have to do all the heavy lifting?" I just looked at him and said "yes and Mike is inside vacuuming right now (because he was)."
Today, Mike is working without pay for 8 hours to help a friend teach a field course. On top of his 50 hour work weeks, he almost always spends part of Saturday and/or Sunday preparing lesson plans and grading papers/exams. It's the way to work your way up the community college ladder. I decided it would be nice to mow the lawns for him. It would be nice for him not to have to do it tomorrow, and we can just have fun putting the Christmas tree and decorations up together. When I got to the front yard, of course Number One and Number Two are outside (they basically spend all weekend milling around the neighborhood). When I finish up the job, Number One calls over: "Hey, how much is Mike paying you to do that!" (as if I have an allowance!). In an attempt to get him to elaborate, I asked "what are you trying to say?" and then Number Two calls over: "Yeah, can you teach my wife to do that?" This is when I turned to Number Two and said "you know, as someone who has two daughters, I wouldn't expect you to subscribe to gender rules." At which point they both rolled their eyes and went inside.
Fuck 'em
Some background: Two of my neighbors like to rag on Mike. They like to play it off as "good old boys" humor but it really bothers me, because it's just plain rude. To tell you the truth, I find it totally offensive to me, too.
Example: Everytime I do yard work, they make comments about why isn't Mike helping me.
Example: I was rolling the trash and recycling bins to the curb a few weeks ago when Number One (I will from here on refer to them as Number One and Number Two, because I think the euphamisms are quite fitting) said to me "Jeez, do you have to do all the heavy lifting?" I just looked at him and said "yes and Mike is inside vacuuming right now (because he was)."
Today, Mike is working without pay for 8 hours to help a friend teach a field course. On top of his 50 hour work weeks, he almost always spends part of Saturday and/or Sunday preparing lesson plans and grading papers/exams. It's the way to work your way up the community college ladder. I decided it would be nice to mow the lawns for him. It would be nice for him not to have to do it tomorrow, and we can just have fun putting the Christmas tree and decorations up together. When I got to the front yard, of course Number One and Number Two are outside (they basically spend all weekend milling around the neighborhood). When I finish up the job, Number One calls over: "Hey, how much is Mike paying you to do that!" (as if I have an allowance!). In an attempt to get him to elaborate, I asked "what are you trying to say?" and then Number Two calls over: "Yeah, can you teach my wife to do that?" This is when I turned to Number Two and said "you know, as someone who has two daughters, I wouldn't expect you to subscribe to gender rules." At which point they both rolled their eyes and went inside.
Fuck 'em
Saturday, November 22, 2008
"Thousands of years ago, cats were worshipped as gods. Cats have never forgotten this." - Anonymous
I know I constantly write about my dogs, and you may not know that we also have two cats. We adopted both cats while we were living in Oregon and they're definite members of the family. When the weather gets colder, they're around the house a lot more, and they have some quirks that have been making me laugh lately:
Merlin, our gray tabby, is obsessed with me. OBSESSED. About six months ago, I changed from being the person that feeds him to being someone he worships. We call him "enamored." When I get in bed, he gets this hypnotized look in his eyes (think eyes swirling in circles like the Cheshire Cat) and marches towards me until he's laying on my head. Whenever I walk down our hallway, he breaks out into a sprint to follow me. For some reason, he thinks that when I sit down at the desk to work on the computer, I really mean to sit down and pet him. He also will hear my voice and start crying from whatever room I'm in. And forget taking a shower without him sitting on the sink. On a good note, the hair on hair on his butt finally grew back, thank goodness (I guess he's cured from his Psychological Allopecia. I did not make this up, the vet called it that!)
Jasper, our black and white skunk, is your typical fair-weathered cat. He's very affectionate when he's hungry, indifferent when he's not. We joke that he's only nice when he's sick or dying. This came about when we adopted him. He started showing up to our apartment in Coos Bay and he was an absolute sweetie. 
Missing Jackson, my old cat, I talked Mike into adopting him and we took him to the vet. He had tons wrong with him, so we spent the money and got him fixed up. Poor cat, he was so doped up, he was literally walking into walls. It made me want to cry but Mike just laughed his butt off. When he was healthy, he became way less affectionate. Then, about six months later, he was super affectionate again and we soon discovered he had a sick tummy. We finally found out he had Giardia (you'd think he was a backpacker or something, sheesh!). But, I digress... Lately though, he's coming around a lot more, specifically to beg for food. Crazy begging. It started out with just meat. I'd be cutting up the chicken for dinner and I'd look over and Jasper would be seated between Puck and Nugget, looking up at me with big, hungry green eyes. He then progressed to begging for meat during dinner, and he has now fully graduated to begging for any food. The other night, I was eating a spinach salad (with just veggies) and he sat next to me and just yowled. I got up to get more water and when I turned around, he was licking my plate. Tell me, what cat do you know that likes Cranberry Gorgonzola dressing? (Sidebar: I asked Mike this and his response was: "What human do you know that likes Cranberry Gorgonzola dressing?! That sounds awful!" He's a ranch guy. But I must put a plug out: the Cranberry Gorgonzola dressing at Trader Joe's is really good!)
Missing Jackson, my old cat, I talked Mike into adopting him and we took him to the vet. He had tons wrong with him, so we spent the money and got him fixed up. Poor cat, he was so doped up, he was literally walking into walls. It made me want to cry but Mike just laughed his butt off. When he was healthy, he became way less affectionate. Then, about six months later, he was super affectionate again and we soon discovered he had a sick tummy. We finally found out he had Giardia (you'd think he was a backpacker or something, sheesh!). But, I digress... Lately though, he's coming around a lot more, specifically to beg for food. Crazy begging. It started out with just meat. I'd be cutting up the chicken for dinner and I'd look over and Jasper would be seated between Puck and Nugget, looking up at me with big, hungry green eyes. He then progressed to begging for meat during dinner, and he has now fully graduated to begging for any food. The other night, I was eating a spinach salad (with just veggies) and he sat next to me and just yowled. I got up to get more water and when I turned around, he was licking my plate. Tell me, what cat do you know that likes Cranberry Gorgonzola dressing? (Sidebar: I asked Mike this and his response was: "What human do you know that likes Cranberry Gorgonzola dressing?! That sounds awful!" He's a ranch guy. But I must put a plug out: the Cranberry Gorgonzola dressing at Trader Joe's is really good!)As I'm typing this, I find it highly ironic that my neighbor, who all day Sat and Sun blasts music from his garage, is playing "Cat Scratch Fever" I shit you not!
Friday, November 21, 2008
Confession Friday
At work yesteday, I got to talking to one of the construction workers, whom I consider a friend at work. He's this big, burly guy, 52 years old and we're talking about television shows. He then admits to me that he really misses watching The Young and the Restless. He was 100% serious, too. I love it! This job sure keeps me on my toes.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)