We saw this sign yesterday morning and had to stop to take a photo with my phone. It’s a little hard to see — it says, “God wants spiritual fruit, not religious nuts.” I was going to post it as just plain funny, but now, in light of last night’s news, it seems oddly prescient.
Osama bin Laden is dead. Praise be to God.
“I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.” — Blanche DuBois, A Streetcar Named Desire
On Sunday, I was one of the 23,000 dots pictured below. I “ran” the 2011 Capitol 10,000, a race I first tackled in 1989 and last took on somewhere around 2000. That would be pre-kids. Or as The Big M and I call it, “BC.”
As 10K’s go, it’s a pretty easy course. There aren’t a lot of hills, and the ones that are there go mostly down. Sunday was perfect, weather-wise. It was overcast, temps hovering around 60, and very low humidity.
I lost my running partner somewhere between miles 4 and 5. I needed to walk, and she needed to keep running. One of us is considerably flabbier than the other.
I’ll give you a hint: she is not the flabbier one.
Somehow I missed this sign as I passed my old high school. Maybe I was distracted by memories of the days when I wanted to fly free and live somewhere other than Austin.
More likely, it was Mario and Luigi’s fault. They were so funny — so perfectly made up to be the characters of MarioKart for Wii. Even Yoshi and Princess Peach were there.
Luigi had bananas hanging from the back of his car. Mario had the electronic game music playing. They kept hurling stuffed turtles at each other as they ran.
I promise, it was hilarious if you know the game.
Regardless, I missed the sign. Shortly afterward, I caught my toe on a reflector and did a faceplant on Lamar Boulevard.
You know that collective “oooooh” that a group of people make when they see something painful and instinctively feel it themselves? I made that noise a few weeks ago when I saw a guy smack his cranium right into the point of an aluminum canoe.
“How does someone bump their head on a canoe?” you ask. That’s a good question. The answer is: some dumbass tied a canoe to the roof of his SUV, let it dangle off the back four feet, and parked it in a dimly lit parking garage where the canoe stuck out in the aisle just above eye level and just below crown-of-the-head level.
“Oooooh!” I yelled sympathetically, and asked the poor guy if he was all right. I couldn’t tell if it was just embarrassment or a concussion or both, but he didn’t want to make eye contact. He stumbled away towards the elevator, muttering to himself and refusing assistance.
When I faceplanted on Lamar, I got to hear that ooooooh from a large crowd. About four strangers lifted me out of the gravelly asphalt and landed me back on my feet. One commented that it was a good thing I was wearing long pants.
And it was. The vanity that made me cover my flabby thighs protected my knees from more than minor scrapes.
Unfortunately I was wearing short sleeves. For the rest of the week I will be wearing three-quarter length sleeves to cover this:
I took that picture this morning. It’s much better looking than it was yesterday, now that all the blood and gravel are scrubbed out.
I stumbled on towards the finish line, and completed the race in what I felt was a respectable 1:16, all things considered.
Best of all, I did not break any bones or teeth, or tear any tendons, or otherwise irreparably injure myself. I live to fight another day!
Hope you had a good weekend. 
It was a Weltschmerz — which we used to call “Welshrats” — the world sadness that rises into the soul like a gas and spreads despair so that you probe for the offending event and can find none. –John Steinbeck, East of Eden
I’ve got the Welsh rats nipping at my heels today, and I can’t pinpoint why. The sun is shining, the house is clean, the kids are behaving, and I don’t have to go grocery shopping. At least not urgently. We can do without milk for a day.
But something is gnawing. I think the trigger may have been a conversation I had today in which I learned that a second young dad at our school has died in the last three weeks. The first had a pulmonary edema and died with no warning, and the second, lymphoma that was so advanced he made it only six weeks beyond his initial diagnosis. Between them, they left behind five children, the oldest in fourth grade and the youngest an infant.
I’ve been praying like crazy for the brother of my friend Julie. He’s a young dad, too, and he was just diagnosed with melanoma that has metastasized.
Lord, please bless Paul and his wife and their little son. Please help him as he goes through chemo. Please heal him. Please bless his family and ease their worry.
It is heartbreaking. The young dad for my own little family is out in west Texas today, and I worry for him, too. Lord, that he may be safe on the road. That he may be healthy. That we will grow old together and know the joy of our grandchildren.
I’ve wrapped myself in threads of illusion, a woven blindfold that blocks out the terrifying reality that almost nothing is within my control. When a thread slips, that’s when the world sadness rises into my soul like a gas. I think keeping out the despair is perhaps under my control.
To that end, I’m going to go watch Home Alone 2 with my kids. They think it’s hilarious, and I’m grateful to be able to cuddle up with them on the couch.
…..
P. S. Ten minutes in, and I feel better. I love my goofy goobers.
I’ve been out of touch for a while. Take that as you will.
Before I get back to my regular posting, I’d like to share this amazing photo that my Aunt Carolyn sent from her current journey. She was snorkeling in the Great Barrier Reef of Australia, and happened upon this fish:
Isn’t that about the craziest thing you’ve ever seen? It’s called a Hump Headed Maori Wrasse. The locals have named it Wally.
You can check out Carolyn’s adventures at her blog.
Happy V-Day, friends. If you haven’t sent your loved one(s) a card yet, it’s not too late. www.someecards.com can hook you up.
I’m partial to these:
There are many more fun ones over at that site.
Tomorrow, assuming I have my act together, I will post pictures of the awesome Valentines that my sister made for the kids this year. To say they were a hit is an understatement.
Hope you’re having a good day.
Yesterday I got to volunteer at the annual party for our local Mental Health and Mental Retardation office. Somewhere around 350 clients attended. It was a huge collaborative effort, with many volunteers and donors. My mom was responsible for the gift collection and wrapping effort. She got more than 500 gifts put together and transported to the party. Leftovers went to the MHMR office for homebound clients. Mom and Dad worked the entire party. My kids and I helped with set-up and food and gift distribution. It was a pretty cool family affair.
Highlights:
* Seeing creativity kick into action when, almost an hour after they were supposed to arrive with food, it was discovered that the caterer had the wrong date for the party. Said caterer was harangued to bring food ASAP, and in the interim, Mom and Dad and a neighbor acquired 40 bags of chips, many jugs of salsa, and paper plates and bowls to tide over the hungry and restless clients. For some clients, this would be their only meal of the day.
*The Flyin’ A’s, a singing duo who kept order and made what could have devolved into chaos when the food was two hours late into a party atmosphere. They really were heroes, playing for more than four hours without a break, and staying until the end. The party was supposed to end at 1 p.m., and because of the food snafu, ended after 3 p.m.
*Seeing the volunteer crew leap into action to keep clients orderly and fed as quickly as possible. There were long-time volunteers and first-time volunteers, and every one of them busted their butts. It was impressive!
*Helping my kids to understand their social and moral obligation to others. Together we wrapped 90 of the gifts over the last few weeks, and yesterday they helped decorate the party hall, diligently put bread on every plate, and joyfully watched the gift distribution. They didn’t complain even once. I was very impressed.
*Watching my 6-year-old daughter dance with Santa after the gift distribution. The two of them boogied down on the dance floor!
*Interacting with the clients. I was so happy to be able to serve. To know that my efforts were helping to bring a little joy to their day was just awesome. I had fun talking to them and bringing them food and gifts.
Hope y’all are enjoying the season!
Did you know that Handel’s Messiah has been continuously performed since its debut in 1742?
Last month a flash mob of very talented choristers performed the Hallelujah chorus in the food court of a mall. If you’re not familiar with the term “flash mob”, it’s a phenomenon where a group of people get together in a public place, do something random and unexpected all at the same time, and then disperse. Sometimes it’s very coordinated, and sometimes people who agree to do it just get a text to show up someplace at a particular time, where they will then receive instruction. The Messiah group was clearly pre-coordinated.
The Big M hates flash mobs. “At least when people go to see a show choir they’re prepared for the awkwardness,” he says. “It’s not fair to do that to unsuspecting people in public.”
I disagree. I think flash mobs are fun. Here’s the YouTube of the Hallelujah chorus. Enjoy!
I stumbled upon www.archive.org, repository of classic cartoons and educational films.
The Coronet series of films is hilarious. Try this one out:
They’ve got old movies, old newsreels, government films, music, books … it’s a goldmine for history junkies, and it’s all free.
Edit: If you’re unable to watch the movie by clicking on the image, try one of the links that appear below it. They’re different file formats, and one of them will work on your computer if you experiment.
In White Mountains National Forest of New Hampshire, the trees begin their change.
Dusk falls over the hills.
In the Green Mountains of Vermont, leaves fall like a gentle snow, softly striking the ground in an orange blur.
At the Morse Sugar Farm in Vermont, the pumpkins await carving.
Rain-filtered afternoon light flows through the jars of maple syrup standing guard in the sugar shack. They are the litmus papers for the spring sugar season when it comes time to make and grade the syrup.
The woodpile is stocked for winter.
A few summer wildflowers cling to their blooms even as the trees begin their surrender to the inevitability of winter.
On Old Orchard Beach in Maine, the amusement park is closed for the season.
The tide is out, but the sea has left her roots upon the sand.
They are her mark. I will be back.
The Cape Elizabeth lighthouse guards Casco Bay.
Beneath Fort Williams, the sea has left her stain on the granite cliffs.
On the cape, the Portland Head Light stands guard where it has for the past 219 years.
These are some of the photos from my trip last week.
Saw this outside the house a few minutes ago.
Random rainbow trivia: the ancient Greeks believed that the goddess Iris acted as a messenger to the gods and would travel along a rainbow to deliver her messages. I assume that tradition got passed on to the Romans because even today the Spanish word for rainbow is arco iris — Iris’ arch.
Not often that I get to bust that little tidbit out.
———–
P.S. If you haven’t seen the double rainbow video yet, go here. It’s so intense!
