I saw a red fox sitting in the middle of the street, just as I turned a corner on one of my regular running routes. It saw me coming first, of course, and had already positioned itself to run, should I come its direction. So, I was not destined to study it for long, as I must have seemed like a fast-approaching threat, and foxes don't live long in the city when they don't take such threats seriously. Dogs, cars, and running men have already beat the fox populace to an airy thinness.
It accelerated across the suburban lawnscape with an ease this jogger has never even dreamed of, and was probably somewhere in the brush watching me as I went lumbering by.
Thanks for reading.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Let The Nuns Have Them 4/6/10
The Five Bad Habits of a Mostly Ineffective Person
1. Nose Picking. I picked a bad one, or rather, it was picked badly for me by my parents. It veers left almost instantly, eliminating me from The Symmetry Sweepstakes. Once you lose that, you'll always look like a gangster, or a Martian. My mom had a theory that my nose was straight until I got my braces at the age of twelve, but the orthodontist reached up into my sinus cavity, i.e.: my brainpan, and toggled my nose until my teeth lined up in the holes they were supposed to push through. It's not a theory that has gained much traction in orthodontia trade journals, and she's never had any luck with it in the courts, but it helps assuage the guilt she feels over the faulty nose-direction gene she gave me.
2. Not Asking Enough Questions. You know how most kids will bug you to death with a million back-to-back queries? Not me. I was very credulous. You say the fire's hot, I believe you, Dad. I don't need to ask "Why," and touch the exhaust pipe on your Harley. Unfortunately, I've carried this into adulthood. I wish I'd asked the salesman at the Chrysler dealership which way the assets were supposed to flow when I went in to participate in the Cash For Clunkers program. You tell me I give you $3500, and my '97 Jeep Cherokee, in exchange for stimulating the economy? I'm all in. I got a good deal on the payments, too.
3. Rooting For/Betting On The Underdog In Any Contest. There's a reason they're the underdogs, which is that they are not supposed to win. They are too slow, too old, too underpaid, too underfunded, or just flat-out too lousy at what they do. I took the Utah Jazz, twice, against the Michael Jordans in the NBA Finals. Have you ever heard any kid say he wanted to be like Bryan (Russell)? I also voted for Ralph Nader, twice. Looking back, I don't think that even HE took Ralph Nader seriously as a candidate. If he was so smart, why couldn't he figure out how to shave?
4. Correcting Mispronunciations. I should just let it slide, but there really is only one way to pronounce the name of the "big burrito place" chain restaurants that crank the toonz up to infinity, have wickedly uncomfortable chairs, and are impossible to get into at lunch and dinner. And that is chi-POTE-leh. Not chi-POLE-tee, or chi-PO-teez. I've told forty million people so far, and they have all threatened to kill me. And none would let me cut in front of them in line. I told them that the intelligent should be allowed first pick of the fruits of the land, in order to fuel our ability to educate the violently stupid. Then, I was beat up.
5. Procrastinating. This is the worst for me. That's why I saved it for last. I always feel that I can make a better decision, if I just have more time to think about it. Sometimes, as it turns out, that ends up being no decision. Once, while walking in a yellow wood, I came to a place where two roads diverged. I mulled over which was the better path to take. I thought I would take the one less traveled by, believing that if I could make the opposite choice from my predecessors, it might make all the difference. But I couldn't even decide which was the less-beaten path, so I pondered some more. So long I stood in that spot that the two paths were beaten down by dirt-bikers and trail-runners, getting their recreation on outside the crowded city. Then the paths were paved to allow developers to put up acres and acres of subdivisions promising "Country living, just minutes from downtown." Then the paved paths were widened to four lanes, then six, then eight, and they all seemed pretty well traveled by speeding three-trailer semis, and Prius minivans.
Thanks for reading.
1. Nose Picking. I picked a bad one, or rather, it was picked badly for me by my parents. It veers left almost instantly, eliminating me from The Symmetry Sweepstakes. Once you lose that, you'll always look like a gangster, or a Martian. My mom had a theory that my nose was straight until I got my braces at the age of twelve, but the orthodontist reached up into my sinus cavity, i.e.: my brainpan, and toggled my nose until my teeth lined up in the holes they were supposed to push through. It's not a theory that has gained much traction in orthodontia trade journals, and she's never had any luck with it in the courts, but it helps assuage the guilt she feels over the faulty nose-direction gene she gave me.
2. Not Asking Enough Questions. You know how most kids will bug you to death with a million back-to-back queries? Not me. I was very credulous. You say the fire's hot, I believe you, Dad. I don't need to ask "Why," and touch the exhaust pipe on your Harley. Unfortunately, I've carried this into adulthood. I wish I'd asked the salesman at the Chrysler dealership which way the assets were supposed to flow when I went in to participate in the Cash For Clunkers program. You tell me I give you $3500, and my '97 Jeep Cherokee, in exchange for stimulating the economy? I'm all in. I got a good deal on the payments, too.
3. Rooting For/Betting On The Underdog In Any Contest. There's a reason they're the underdogs, which is that they are not supposed to win. They are too slow, too old, too underpaid, too underfunded, or just flat-out too lousy at what they do. I took the Utah Jazz, twice, against the Michael Jordans in the NBA Finals. Have you ever heard any kid say he wanted to be like Bryan (Russell)? I also voted for Ralph Nader, twice. Looking back, I don't think that even HE took Ralph Nader seriously as a candidate. If he was so smart, why couldn't he figure out how to shave?
4. Correcting Mispronunciations. I should just let it slide, but there really is only one way to pronounce the name of the "big burrito place" chain restaurants that crank the toonz up to infinity, have wickedly uncomfortable chairs, and are impossible to get into at lunch and dinner. And that is chi-POTE-leh. Not chi-POLE-tee, or chi-PO-teez. I've told forty million people so far, and they have all threatened to kill me. And none would let me cut in front of them in line. I told them that the intelligent should be allowed first pick of the fruits of the land, in order to fuel our ability to educate the violently stupid. Then, I was beat up.
5. Procrastinating. This is the worst for me. That's why I saved it for last. I always feel that I can make a better decision, if I just have more time to think about it. Sometimes, as it turns out, that ends up being no decision. Once, while walking in a yellow wood, I came to a place where two roads diverged. I mulled over which was the better path to take. I thought I would take the one less traveled by, believing that if I could make the opposite choice from my predecessors, it might make all the difference. But I couldn't even decide which was the less-beaten path, so I pondered some more. So long I stood in that spot that the two paths were beaten down by dirt-bikers and trail-runners, getting their recreation on outside the crowded city. Then the paths were paved to allow developers to put up acres and acres of subdivisions promising "Country living, just minutes from downtown." Then the paved paths were widened to four lanes, then six, then eight, and they all seemed pretty well traveled by speeding three-trailer semis, and Prius minivans.
Thanks for reading.
Monday, April 5, 2010
The 163rd Game of 2009. 4/5/10
I ran two miles today. It was my first time on the roads since last Thursday, and even though it was not the smoothest run of my life, it left me feeling optimistic that I was getting back to regular.
On top of that good vibe, the Royals' Season Opener was this afternoon, and we had it on at the store. Their Cy Young Award-winning pitcher, Zack Greinke, was taking the mound, the day was warm and sunny...More optimism!
(Spoiler alert: If you haven't heard the result already, don't worry, it won't really be a surprise.)
The store was too busy this afternoon to just sit and watch the game for more than a few seconds at a time, so let me sum it up for you as best I can. The Royals gave up a run in the first inning, but then they came back a little while later and went ahead 2-1. Later, they were ahead 4-2 when Greinke was replaced by a relief pitcher. To put it another way, it was a relief for the Tigers when Greinke was replaced by another "pitcher." Just like last year, the bullpen snatched defeat from the jaws of victory, with the Royals losing 8-4.
It was just like watching many of their games from last year. The only comparable feeling I can relate to you, would be of stepping in a pile of dog shit just before the ground is covered by snow in the Winter, then, after the snow has melted in the Spring, you walk out your door and step in the same pile of dog shit. Have you gotten the sense, yet, that my optimism is waning just a bit?
I am going to have to run a lot tomorrow to make up for this.
Thanks for reading.
On top of that good vibe, the Royals' Season Opener was this afternoon, and we had it on at the store. Their Cy Young Award-winning pitcher, Zack Greinke, was taking the mound, the day was warm and sunny...More optimism!
(Spoiler alert: If you haven't heard the result already, don't worry, it won't really be a surprise.)
The store was too busy this afternoon to just sit and watch the game for more than a few seconds at a time, so let me sum it up for you as best I can. The Royals gave up a run in the first inning, but then they came back a little while later and went ahead 2-1. Later, they were ahead 4-2 when Greinke was replaced by a relief pitcher. To put it another way, it was a relief for the Tigers when Greinke was replaced by another "pitcher." Just like last year, the bullpen snatched defeat from the jaws of victory, with the Royals losing 8-4.
It was just like watching many of their games from last year. The only comparable feeling I can relate to you, would be of stepping in a pile of dog shit just before the ground is covered by snow in the Winter, then, after the snow has melted in the Spring, you walk out your door and step in the same pile of dog shit. Have you gotten the sense, yet, that my optimism is waning just a bit?
I am going to have to run a lot tomorrow to make up for this.
Thanks for reading.
Easter Eggs 4/4/10
Here's the main reason why I wanted to never have children. I did not want to have to participate in The Big Easter Lie. How could I teach a child to value the truth, when every Easter, I would have to tell her that a large, upright walking rabbit, had dropped eggs all over our front yard while we had been sleeping?
An egg-laying rabbit? Rabbits are mammals; they have wabbity bweasts for nursing their young. They lovingly place them under cabbage leaves at birth. They don't drop them from an ovipositor. And they hippity flippin' hop, they don't walk around like the guy on the Johnny Walker Red Whiskey label. Only a kid taught biology from a Texas school book could believe such things. Surely a child who was half-mine, or adopted by me, would be smarter than the average Fort Worth fourth-grader.
I mean, wouldn't it make sense for a chocolate peep to fly around dropping eggs for the little candy grubbers? That at least makes some sense, from a reproductive consistency standpoint.
Thanks for reading.
An egg-laying rabbit? Rabbits are mammals; they have wabbity bweasts for nursing their young. They lovingly place them under cabbage leaves at birth. They don't drop them from an ovipositor. And they hippity flippin' hop, they don't walk around like the guy on the Johnny Walker Red Whiskey label. Only a kid taught biology from a Texas school book could believe such things. Surely a child who was half-mine, or adopted by me, would be smarter than the average Fort Worth fourth-grader.
I mean, wouldn't it make sense for a chocolate peep to fly around dropping eggs for the little candy grubbers? That at least makes some sense, from a reproductive consistency standpoint.
Thanks for reading.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Pinch, or Pull? 4/3/10
My nose was the only part of my body that ran yesterday. It ran all day long-thereby showing great endurance. It threw in a few intervals for variety-picking up the pace whenever I wasn't near a tissue box.
While I was in the throes of this Snotathon, a customer came up to me at work and said that she had noticed that I was somewhat congested. (It must have caught her attention that my sinuses had swollen to thrice their normal sizes, giving me the appearance of a hard-core Botox abuser.) She introduced herself as a massage and acupuncture therapist. She said that she'd had success treating her patients' allergies by inserting needles into their fingertips. Really? "Under the nails," I asked, thinking that she might be practicing a form of Pain Relocation Therapy. She answered "No" in a way that indicated she might be getting ready to skewer my eyeballs.
By placing them just so, toward the fingertips, the therapist could intercept the messages my brain was sending to my sinuses. "But, would I have to leave the needles in all month to keep the allergies at bay," I asked, this time covering both eyes with my hands. The needles were not absolutely necessary, she hissed, patiently, merely pinching the fingertips would produce the desired result. So, I don't need the ten tetanus injections to bring about a sniffle-free existence? (I only thought this sentence, not even projecting it toward her.)
I immediately set upon this course of therapy, right in front of the kindly, yet dangerously well-trained in the use of sharp rusty objects, savior of my schnoz. It was hard to believe that it could be so simple. I thought that I must have been dreaming. I needed someone to pinch me.
I pinched, sometimes squeezing, but never for very long, because I had to constantly switch fingers from pinched, to pinchee. Some pinches were so hard that I cried out for my mother to help me beat up the kid who was hurting me. Some, on the other hand, were so soft that they barely met the definition-they were more like nips. I pinched every finger seven times seven times, but still the snot kept coming. I became frustrated, then angry, until finally, I became downright snotty. I suggested a different methodology, "What if I just put my fingers up my nose? I bet that would stop it from running." She was not mellow in responding, and I have the bruised liver to prove it.
From now on, no more New Age remedies for me. I'll stick to the traditional, tried and true methods for combating allergies. Like, medicines that don't work. And lying in bed for eight hours a day. And hoping the trees stop blooming, and the wind stops blowing. Yeah, that's more realistic than pinching your fingers.
Thanks for humoring me.
While I was in the throes of this Snotathon, a customer came up to me at work and said that she had noticed that I was somewhat congested. (It must have caught her attention that my sinuses had swollen to thrice their normal sizes, giving me the appearance of a hard-core Botox abuser.) She introduced herself as a massage and acupuncture therapist. She said that she'd had success treating her patients' allergies by inserting needles into their fingertips. Really? "Under the nails," I asked, thinking that she might be practicing a form of Pain Relocation Therapy. She answered "No" in a way that indicated she might be getting ready to skewer my eyeballs.
By placing them just so, toward the fingertips, the therapist could intercept the messages my brain was sending to my sinuses. "But, would I have to leave the needles in all month to keep the allergies at bay," I asked, this time covering both eyes with my hands. The needles were not absolutely necessary, she hissed, patiently, merely pinching the fingertips would produce the desired result. So, I don't need the ten tetanus injections to bring about a sniffle-free existence? (I only thought this sentence, not even projecting it toward her.)
I immediately set upon this course of therapy, right in front of the kindly, yet dangerously well-trained in the use of sharp rusty objects, savior of my schnoz. It was hard to believe that it could be so simple. I thought that I must have been dreaming. I needed someone to pinch me.
I pinched, sometimes squeezing, but never for very long, because I had to constantly switch fingers from pinched, to pinchee. Some pinches were so hard that I cried out for my mother to help me beat up the kid who was hurting me. Some, on the other hand, were so soft that they barely met the definition-they were more like nips. I pinched every finger seven times seven times, but still the snot kept coming. I became frustrated, then angry, until finally, I became downright snotty. I suggested a different methodology, "What if I just put my fingers up my nose? I bet that would stop it from running." She was not mellow in responding, and I have the bruised liver to prove it.
From now on, no more New Age remedies for me. I'll stick to the traditional, tried and true methods for combating allergies. Like, medicines that don't work. And lying in bed for eight hours a day. And hoping the trees stop blooming, and the wind stops blowing. Yeah, that's more realistic than pinching your fingers.
Thanks for humoring me.
My Superpowers 4/2/10
I am Mucus Man-Slimer of The Universe! I can cover evildoers in a thick coating of goo that will render them unable to wreak havoc on the innocent!
My sneezes are so powerful, they can send our enemies' nuclear missiles harmlessly into the outer reaches of the universe, where they might, or might not, make impact on another planet that might, or might not, have life forms similar to our own!
My dripping nose will provide enough moisture to end droughts in desert lands!
I will use up every Kleenex in the city, thereby revitalizing the moribund logging industry!
(There just has to be SOME upside to having a cold during allergy season.)
Thanks for reading.
My sneezes are so powerful, they can send our enemies' nuclear missiles harmlessly into the outer reaches of the universe, where they might, or might not, make impact on another planet that might, or might not, have life forms similar to our own!
My dripping nose will provide enough moisture to end droughts in desert lands!
I will use up every Kleenex in the city, thereby revitalizing the moribund logging industry!
(There just has to be SOME upside to having a cold during allergy season.)
Thanks for reading.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
No Foolin' -Another List 4/1/10
Five Things I Used to Believe:
1. That I could run twenty miles, even if I had a cold and allergies. I made it about 3.5, before turning around today. My chest hurt so badly, I thought an alien baby was going to burst forth from it.
2. That the meanings of "cheap" and "expensive" were reversed. Given my credit score and my retirement fund, I'd say this one hung on well into adulthood.
3. That if I just got close enough to the TV screen, I could see things that weren't really visible. I remember as a five year-old, crawling all the way up, so that I could see what was under Tina Turner's fringe dress as she and The Ikettes did "Proud Mary" on the Mike Douglas Show. As an older man, I can say I am grateful that, even with Hi-Def TV, we cannot see what's under Betty White's dress.
4. That I would one day be a wide receiver for the Chiefs. There may have been a time in NFL history-say, during the Great Depression-when people ate once a month, that 150-pounders ran amok on the gridiron, and were not flattened into something that would fit into a standard business envelope. But the end of the Great Depression, selective breeding, free agency, steroids, and discrimination against skinny people, have all made sure that it will never come again.
5. That the sidewalk was the only thing separating us from oblivion. I really thought there was nothing underneath it. Plus, I had seen some movie in which luckless cave explorers fell into a bottomless pit. Maybe I thought they just fell all the way through Earth, and wound up on Pluto. (Which I used to believe was a planet.) Now I know there are no bottomless pits. Except for Rush Limbaugh.
I also used to believe in the Easter Bunny, Kirby Puckett, a place called Hope, and the infallibility of R.E.M.
Thanks for reading.
1. That I could run twenty miles, even if I had a cold and allergies. I made it about 3.5, before turning around today. My chest hurt so badly, I thought an alien baby was going to burst forth from it.
2. That the meanings of "cheap" and "expensive" were reversed. Given my credit score and my retirement fund, I'd say this one hung on well into adulthood.
3. That if I just got close enough to the TV screen, I could see things that weren't really visible. I remember as a five year-old, crawling all the way up, so that I could see what was under Tina Turner's fringe dress as she and The Ikettes did "Proud Mary" on the Mike Douglas Show. As an older man, I can say I am grateful that, even with Hi-Def TV, we cannot see what's under Betty White's dress.
4. That I would one day be a wide receiver for the Chiefs. There may have been a time in NFL history-say, during the Great Depression-when people ate once a month, that 150-pounders ran amok on the gridiron, and were not flattened into something that would fit into a standard business envelope. But the end of the Great Depression, selective breeding, free agency, steroids, and discrimination against skinny people, have all made sure that it will never come again.
5. That the sidewalk was the only thing separating us from oblivion. I really thought there was nothing underneath it. Plus, I had seen some movie in which luckless cave explorers fell into a bottomless pit. Maybe I thought they just fell all the way through Earth, and wound up on Pluto. (Which I used to believe was a planet.) Now I know there are no bottomless pits. Except for Rush Limbaugh.
I also used to believe in the Easter Bunny, Kirby Puckett, a place called Hope, and the infallibility of R.E.M.
Thanks for reading.
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