Cooler than You: Stupid Things I Say and Do

Since I recently did my fourth half marathon (after doing an 8K the day before), I thought it would be a good time to provide the dissection of what goes through one's mind.  Disclaimer: it is only slightly perverse.  In January I was kicking, and then for the most of February my body and the Lupus told me to f-off, so . . . I'm still delighted with the results and I ran 3.85 today with an average of 10:46 per a mile.  Good, indeed. O'dark thirty, at the start.  Unless you are running in July, this start line will  always  be chilly or outright cold. In March, in Virginia Beach, it was downright cold.  July is the only time an 8 o'clock start will be on the borders of hot.  Joy.   The gun goes off, corals start to cheer.  Those damn seeded runners are going to hit the finish line before the chumps in coral ten (like me) even hit mile one.  'Tis the life.   Mile one: Let's not think about miles.  It's ...

Along The Dover Road, between New York City and Virginia Beach, we tumble through Salisbury...the last place my brother called home. As we pass through, I notice–– as I did in August, the first time I'd been through in nearly nine years–– the growth of the little roadside stop. Well, the academic in me wants to call it sprawl, but most folks draw lines with progress and clutter...the expanded Wal Mart, the chain restaurants, and the new chain gas stations all replacing the single owned ones known along the area for subs and fried chicken.  Somewhere along the way my mind remembers golf balls and rides in his partner's blue pick up truck. Those...those are memories for me to hold onto for another day.  Perhaps like the skybirds (Skybirds http://coolerthanyoustupidthings.blogspot.com/2009/08/skybirds.html) of my youth.  I still wonder what those are, then again I doubt that I really need to unearth that. This past February made ten years since my ...

There's something to be said about handcraft.  The nature of it, the making of it, and the solitude of it.  Much like running  there is a rhythm and solace to the craft.  Of course, there are levels of talent and learned skill . . . none-the-less, there are few things so simply sweet and gratifying--to me--as sewing with my own machine, creating a beautiful item from a sheet of fabric, rearranging prints and designs for an altered perception.  Until recently, I've always sewed on someone else's machine . . . well, I finally have my own and the results have been rather cathartic and lovely. Last spring I made my wedding dress, as I did the plunge--per se--in May.  Instead of making a muslin, or a practice dress as it is often called, I made my muslin from the fabric the dress would be from.  I've done this for years, usually finding a cheap fabric so that I get the feel of how the item will actually look in a pr...

There was a recent conference in Rome. I know woe is me that I went to Rome while under the larger guise of work. None– the– less, I went to Rome the week before Christmas (came stateside in time to do the Christmas tour of Dixie and spend New Year's at home in NYC).  But before going to the Eternal City, Tanfer had a few requests. Well, as usual, I obliged. Things like Listerine, Pam Cooking Spray, antacids, hand cream, and hair spray made the list.  She wanted Banana Quik, which after four grocery stores and two Targets I gave up the fight to research that it isn't widely available anymore.  So, I subbed hot cocoa instead. Well, aside from the breadth it all took up in my suitcase, the thought did cross my mind of how I might explain the giftable loot at customs. Well, multiple bottles of lotion, specialty hand creams, and such ... I had a plan that wasn't a complete fabrication.  Nope, instead just a minor exaggeration or two as in that I might spend ...

Here's a little story of UPS. A handful of months ago I got married...my UPS guy was nice, and lovely, and polite. There was a handful of packages from wedding gifts, there was stuff I ordered to make wedding hoopla with, there were random purchases along the way. None– the– less, the man was friendly. He buzzed the building's buzzer and waited 45 seconds to a minute before buzzing again. We chatted about dogs, his kids, his wife...random banter along the way. Then...then...the holiday season came, with holiday trainees showing up on this block. Then...then...the delivery hell began. Early purchase packages...one showed up last week. The delivery person was new, clueless, and not wholly friendly. Then, last night stupidity turned into moronic behavior. When I got home around 2:30 there was no UPS delivery. My husband got home around 6:30...still no package. For the rest of the evening we were home, someone always here. Around 8 pm we were on the stoop. Still, no delivery no...

So, as the world knows a damned hurricane showed up Halloween weekend...indeed it did.  Aside from having our lights flicker and having to go to Connecticut for gas, we fared well...granted two blocks over, on pretty much either side of us, there was a different quality of life...we felt like the one percent, and we are still very grateful for having been blessed.  When you've been living in it you find a strange disconnection to being able to write about it...here's the best I can do right now. Along the way,I took a handful of pictures around Astoria Park...the day after, and I must say there was something special about watching to hoards of people flooding along the river bank and into the park. It was a literal exodus from the confines of our tiny apartments. The outpouring of people goods, aside, and services has been astounding. Though, the Rockaways will never be the same, and New Yorkers will always remember several days without the subway, power, and a little thing c...

As life would have it, life has been busy and stressful as of late...so I preface this post by saying that perhaps my mind its screaming for a rest, a day off, a night with nothing but me and my devices of thought and pen. Okay...maybe I'm just fried from working so much, writing more, and smashing my head against my computer while grading. Earlier this week I dreamed that scoops of ice cream–– vanilla, of course––fell from the sky, gently exploding into smaller balls as they fell. Through the course of this scene I could see The Empire State Building upload and The Chrysler Building. I could see the cracks of concrete and flecks of dirt on the window panes. Throughout this scene of a cerebral slow– timed tango, I said those buildings are "my Manhattan." Then, as the best chaos of dreams does...I awoke to lie in bed in a state of confusion half between slumber and consciousness with a literal dream memory seeping around the corners. At thirteen, or so, I a...