Away from home, the dog is in the kennel. I used to feel bad about kenneling the dog when we went away, but Scrappy actually seems to like it. I think it really is like doggy camp for him. He gets to hang around other dogs, pee in lots of new spots. Maybe it's reminiscent of his former life, the one where he gnawed off all his front teeth bored to tears locked away all day... Although I don't think he gnaws anymore, so he's at least gotten past that part of it. I guess just imagining he's having an okay time makes it easier for me to leave him there and go on and enjoy some time away from him. Is this like having a child?
I woke up at exactly 6:00am, and by 6:30 was out of bed and getting suited up for my run. I know now that I have crossed that line of making myself run to needing to run. No dog. On vacation. I still wake up and WANT to run. It was even raining this morning, and I heard myself making excuses why to run instead of why not to run: It's not raining that hard. It will be raining harder later if I don't go now. It's at least warm enough out to rain, so it will be warmer to run. Etc. It was at that moment I knew I was in the need to run zone.
I didn't run for long. Only about 25 minutes. I slipped several times, but never fell on my butt. That was the guidepost: if I slipped and fell on my butt, I was going to call it quits. But I never fell. It became my challenge of the morning, to stay alert of the ice patches forming under the rain, yet relaxed enough to enjoy the run. Tense enough to keep upright, yet loose enough to do the same. I found my center, just below the navel, breathed into it, loosened my shoulders, loosened my neck, then my right leg shot out from under me and I did some kind of hillbilly pirouette on my left foot while violently jerking my torso first to the left, overcompensating, slipping further, then jerking to the right. Taa-daa! A perfect 10 point moron out running on the ice in the rain. I would like to blame the dog for this, but clearly, I'm on my own.
Friday, December 23, 2005
Thursday, December 22, 2005
Home for the Holidays
Going "home" for the holidays. I say it that way, because I guess I have finally gotten to an age in my life where "home" is actually where I live, and going to my parents' home is just that - it's their home, the home where I grew up, the home I go to visit but not where I live.
It's actually getting harder and harder for me to be away from home. My home, I mean. It's just that, when I have time to not be at work and not have to be at a certain place at a certain time, I do like to spend time in my own space, doing my own things, be it sitting on the sofa reading a book, at the table in the morning writing, or in the basement cleaning out boxes from moving or doing laundry. I like my home. I like my home life. I like being able to just do what I want to do when I want to do it. I like not having to be "on" - since I spend so much of my time around other people all day every day. Even when I'm not in class, I'm "on" - at any moment a colleague or student will come to me. I am surrounded by people. At home, I like not having to be ready to be "on".
It's not that I don't like to go away from time to time and visit and do other things. I do. Summer is the best time for me to do this. I feel much less pressure that the time away will be the only time I have, and that as soon as I get back, I have to be "on" again. Weekends away are harder. I have to be "on" as soon as I get back, after just spending three days "on" wherever it is we have gone. No down time. My personality is one that is energized by being around other people, to the point of exhaustion, so down time is incredibly important to me. Down time. Think time. Write time. Read time. Intropsective time.
Holidays are also even more demanding in terms of all the people, all the energy, all the activity. I get electrified, and all the more reason why it's better for it to be a short time away with time afterward to recoup. As it is, we are going to be spending five days away, which is really pushing my limit. I will just have to be sure I get in some "off" time - time to go running, to read, to write, to enjoy a movie and some people watching. That should help to balance all the other activity that I look forward to, but know at the same time, will exhaust me. Sort of like how I feel after a looooong run - good, but ready to just sit still for a while.
It's actually getting harder and harder for me to be away from home. My home, I mean. It's just that, when I have time to not be at work and not have to be at a certain place at a certain time, I do like to spend time in my own space, doing my own things, be it sitting on the sofa reading a book, at the table in the morning writing, or in the basement cleaning out boxes from moving or doing laundry. I like my home. I like my home life. I like being able to just do what I want to do when I want to do it. I like not having to be "on" - since I spend so much of my time around other people all day every day. Even when I'm not in class, I'm "on" - at any moment a colleague or student will come to me. I am surrounded by people. At home, I like not having to be ready to be "on".
It's not that I don't like to go away from time to time and visit and do other things. I do. Summer is the best time for me to do this. I feel much less pressure that the time away will be the only time I have, and that as soon as I get back, I have to be "on" again. Weekends away are harder. I have to be "on" as soon as I get back, after just spending three days "on" wherever it is we have gone. No down time. My personality is one that is energized by being around other people, to the point of exhaustion, so down time is incredibly important to me. Down time. Think time. Write time. Read time. Intropsective time.
Holidays are also even more demanding in terms of all the people, all the energy, all the activity. I get electrified, and all the more reason why it's better for it to be a short time away with time afterward to recoup. As it is, we are going to be spending five days away, which is really pushing my limit. I will just have to be sure I get in some "off" time - time to go running, to read, to write, to enjoy a movie and some people watching. That should help to balance all the other activity that I look forward to, but know at the same time, will exhaust me. Sort of like how I feel after a looooong run - good, but ready to just sit still for a while.
Sunday, December 11, 2005
As Winter Nears
Winter solstice is approaching, and the official first day of winter, and it will be ushered in by the cold and snow that has preceded it, making some of us believe it is already, truly winter. Last night another foot of snow on top of the 2-3 feet we already got this week. Every morning shoveling new fallen drifts from the walks and drive.
Last week I woke to temperatures in the single digits - above freezing, mind you - but with wind chills well below. It's not been enough, however, to keep me inside before dawn lights the skies. Scrappy and I have been out each morning, snow or no snow, wind or no wind, running our usual morning route of about 2 miles. The one morning we got two feet of snow and the plows hadn't been around yet, I did cut it short - maybe a mile. It seemed it was much harder for me to run through it than for him - born with natural four-wheel drive. While I normally make him run beside me at a heel, I have begun to let him run ahead. Given the waist-attached, hands-off leash system I devised, it allows him to give me a little assistance when he pulls a bit, helping me to keep my forward momentum through the drifts. I know it may seem crazy, this running in ankle-deep drifts, but after the first block, I get so warmed up that every time, by the end of the run, regardless of temperature or wind chill, I'm sweating. What would I do without Scrappy? Okay, well, I'm sure I'd be curled up under the covers every morning, happily sleeping until at least 7:30. But, honestly, I'm so grateful to have him as my motivation to get up and work out every day. Even if we don't run, we at least walk one mile. And then again at night, after dinner, we go out and walk another mile.
The other night, we got to walking through the neighborhoods well after dark (all of about 8pm here). It wasn't too cold, may 17 degrees, and no wind. The traffic had died down, and the streets seemed so quiet and peaceful. We began by walking our usual route, then, seeing a side street with pretty Christmas lights adorning several houses, I took a turn and headed that way. I was childishly thrilled at the sight of multicolored lights and electronic set of bells that chimed Christmas carols. We continued our walk, and I pressed on in my serendipitous journey, simply choosing my turns and route by whichever direction I saw the beacons of the season and followed them.
I turned and twisted down streets I knew well in the summer, but now didn't recognize as well without their foliage. I saw houses that I had only known as hedges before, yards now seemingly as wide as open fields without all their summer accoutrements of picnic tables, above-ground pools and patio furniture. I was mesmerized by this new winter world, and followed the lights, followed the lights, followed the lights. White lights woven through pine swags, windows decorated with figurines to resemble turn-of-the-century towns at Christmas, giant Santas and polar bears filled with air and lights bouncing gently on front lawns, and white light reindeer that would raise and lower their heads.
I crossed one street after another, and thought I knew where I was, when suddenly I found myself completely turned around. I had somehow gotten lost in my own neighborhood, had crossed my path and gone several blocks past where I thought I was. It was an oddly disorienting feeling, but at the same time, not the least bit unnerving. In fact, it was even somewhat exciting to know I had misplaced myself on this little adventure, but knew I would eventually find my way back. I was in no hurry. I wasn't cold. The dog seemed happy to keep walking. And so we did, our silhouettes passing among the terrace trees and leafless hedges, shuffling through the drifts of snow, stopping from time to time to admire the glow of holiday cheer.
Last week I woke to temperatures in the single digits - above freezing, mind you - but with wind chills well below. It's not been enough, however, to keep me inside before dawn lights the skies. Scrappy and I have been out each morning, snow or no snow, wind or no wind, running our usual morning route of about 2 miles. The one morning we got two feet of snow and the plows hadn't been around yet, I did cut it short - maybe a mile. It seemed it was much harder for me to run through it than for him - born with natural four-wheel drive. While I normally make him run beside me at a heel, I have begun to let him run ahead. Given the waist-attached, hands-off leash system I devised, it allows him to give me a little assistance when he pulls a bit, helping me to keep my forward momentum through the drifts. I know it may seem crazy, this running in ankle-deep drifts, but after the first block, I get so warmed up that every time, by the end of the run, regardless of temperature or wind chill, I'm sweating. What would I do without Scrappy? Okay, well, I'm sure I'd be curled up under the covers every morning, happily sleeping until at least 7:30. But, honestly, I'm so grateful to have him as my motivation to get up and work out every day. Even if we don't run, we at least walk one mile. And then again at night, after dinner, we go out and walk another mile.
The other night, we got to walking through the neighborhoods well after dark (all of about 8pm here). It wasn't too cold, may 17 degrees, and no wind. The traffic had died down, and the streets seemed so quiet and peaceful. We began by walking our usual route, then, seeing a side street with pretty Christmas lights adorning several houses, I took a turn and headed that way. I was childishly thrilled at the sight of multicolored lights and electronic set of bells that chimed Christmas carols. We continued our walk, and I pressed on in my serendipitous journey, simply choosing my turns and route by whichever direction I saw the beacons of the season and followed them.
I turned and twisted down streets I knew well in the summer, but now didn't recognize as well without their foliage. I saw houses that I had only known as hedges before, yards now seemingly as wide as open fields without all their summer accoutrements of picnic tables, above-ground pools and patio furniture. I was mesmerized by this new winter world, and followed the lights, followed the lights, followed the lights. White lights woven through pine swags, windows decorated with figurines to resemble turn-of-the-century towns at Christmas, giant Santas and polar bears filled with air and lights bouncing gently on front lawns, and white light reindeer that would raise and lower their heads.
I crossed one street after another, and thought I knew where I was, when suddenly I found myself completely turned around. I had somehow gotten lost in my own neighborhood, had crossed my path and gone several blocks past where I thought I was. It was an oddly disorienting feeling, but at the same time, not the least bit unnerving. In fact, it was even somewhat exciting to know I had misplaced myself on this little adventure, but knew I would eventually find my way back. I was in no hurry. I wasn't cold. The dog seemed happy to keep walking. And so we did, our silhouettes passing among the terrace trees and leafless hedges, shuffling through the drifts of snow, stopping from time to time to admire the glow of holiday cheer.
Monday, December 05, 2005
As the Semester Terns
November...wha...hey, waddaminit! Where'd November go?!
Yeah, it's like that.
Home for the holidays is always a joy and a treasure. Or not. This round was brief with its moments of heartfelt love and connectivity, but then the damn Lions had to go and lose the friggin' game. I'm seriously beginning to not enjoy watching them play. Not completely yet, but almost.
Oh, yeah, family. Well, Lisa was home from New Orleans, or wherever in the world it is she's been traveling most recently. She brought me and Casey some nifty things from around the world, and from that other world of now New Orleans. The best thing she gave me, though--okay, sure, besides sisterly love and all that--was a book! Surprise! A book - for me? But the book is a response to the blog I wrote about Homeland Security Against Racist F*ckers. Of course, it comes from Tolerance.org - only one of the coolest organizations to ever exist in terms of education and all the -isms that plague our process as a truly civilized nation.
The book she gave me is called Speak Up! Responding to Everyday Bigotry. I think this may become required reading in my classes...
Click here some wonderful publications they offer for FREE! Great for teachers and the general public of folks like me dealing with ignoramous neighbors. Of course, if you can give money to the organization - The Southern Poverty Law Center - I highly recommend it. Even a couple of bucks to cover some postage costs. But don't sweat it if you can't. Get the publications - some are PDF downloads, so you can run off bazillions of them at work or some other stick-it-to-the-man action.
Thank you Lisa for a great gift I hope to share with many others, and unfortunately will need to put to use myself, but am grateful to have something now to guide my confrontations, making them more constructive then, say, just slapping someone silly. After all, violence like that, no matter how good it feels, really isn't right.
Deep breaths.
Yeah, it's like that.
Home for the holidays is always a joy and a treasure. Or not. This round was brief with its moments of heartfelt love and connectivity, but then the damn Lions had to go and lose the friggin' game. I'm seriously beginning to not enjoy watching them play. Not completely yet, but almost.
Oh, yeah, family. Well, Lisa was home from New Orleans, or wherever in the world it is she's been traveling most recently. She brought me and Casey some nifty things from around the world, and from that other world of now New Orleans. The best thing she gave me, though--okay, sure, besides sisterly love and all that--was a book! Surprise! A book - for me? But the book is a response to the blog I wrote about Homeland Security Against Racist F*ckers. Of course, it comes from Tolerance.org - only one of the coolest organizations to ever exist in terms of education and all the -isms that plague our process as a truly civilized nation.
The book she gave me is called Speak Up! Responding to Everyday Bigotry. I think this may become required reading in my classes...
Click here some wonderful publications they offer for FREE! Great for teachers and the general public of folks like me dealing with ignoramous neighbors. Of course, if you can give money to the organization - The Southern Poverty Law Center - I highly recommend it. Even a couple of bucks to cover some postage costs. But don't sweat it if you can't. Get the publications - some are PDF downloads, so you can run off bazillions of them at work or some other stick-it-to-the-man action.
Thank you Lisa for a great gift I hope to share with many others, and unfortunately will need to put to use myself, but am grateful to have something now to guide my confrontations, making them more constructive then, say, just slapping someone silly. After all, violence like that, no matter how good it feels, really isn't right.
Deep breaths.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)