Birthday

I've kind of had the birthday blues today. There's no good reason for them. I am going now make a list of good things to force myself to focus on what is good.

My girlfriend I've known since age 10 special-ordered some yummy-smelling face stuff for me that she swears is the bee's knees and also gave me a Hallmark sound card that presented Michael Scott talking about reverse psychology when I opened it and in which she wrote that she hopes I'll enjoy some lemoñadé on my birthday. I tried the facial scrub last night for the first time, and it smelled like a big pineapple exploded in my bathroom. It smelled like breakfast in Mexico and Costa Rica, those big plates of huge pineapple wedges that I would eat until I almost burst.

My girlfriend I've known since I was eight sent me a friendship box. I called her so we could be on the phone when I opened it, and I love it, along with the card she sent. She talked me down off the ledge this afternoon when I complained irrationally about things that are bothering me today and said she's glad we can take turns being surly and and can take turns talking each other out of it. I am very glad about that, too.

My sister sent me some soap that smells so good that it makes me feel like fainting. My older brother called and sang "Happy Birthday" into my voicemail.

I shared with my co-workers this afternoon chocolate cake with layers of raspberry coulis, pecans, and caramel sauce. It might be the world's most perfect cake.

I spent an inordinate amount of time last night trying to take pictures of my cat jumping from one bed to another as I tossed a milk bottle tab back and forth. That I have such a cat and such time to ridiculously waste is something to be grateful for, I think. Last night I held her tightly close to my face and just smelled her and smelled her. She smells clean and she always, always wants to sit on top of me and even if it's just to keep warm and because she thinks I might drop some food, it still makes me feel loved.

I am beyond frustrated with my plumbing situation because I received an invoice higher than what I was quoted and the toilet that was broken somehow in the repairing of the plumbing line was supposedly fixed but is now broken in another way and somehow cost me an extra $100 ... but I have not paid yet and so that is a good thing, for they will not get my money until it actually does what a toilet is supposed to do and that is flush. So I feel kind of disempowered by my intimidation concerning the plumber, but I tell myself as long as I still have my money, I am still in power. That I allow myself to get so intimidated is something I don't like about myself but I am working on it.

I think I have lost the necklace and earrings that my boyfriend bought me for Christmas and Valentine's Day by being careless with them in a box in my car (that I think the box fell out of) and it has been making me extremely sick to the heart and stomach, but I talked to the jewelry artist today and hope to replace the set soon. It won't be the same as having the actual pieces he picked out for me but it will be almost the same. So that is a good thing coming out of a bad thing.

In the three days I have not run since the half-marathon, I have been pretty morose. I don't know if it's because I am lost without a training schedule to plan my day around or it's because my body is suffering from a severe endorphins deficiency, but it has been a pretty awful feeling. Though I don't relish strapping on my running shoes again, I think I am going to have to if only to break out of this dark fog of laziness in which I've been enveloped the past three days. I don't really need to run far, I don't think, or fast, but I need to be outside and I need to get my heart pumping again and my legs moving again. So looking forward to doing that tomorrow is a cheering thought.

My boyfriend will be here soon.

My mom cooked dinner tonight. We ate shrimp stew and fried shrimp and corn and carrot salad and cornbread and her special ice cream dessert with caramel and nuts and oats and chocolate syrup that all gets mixed together and frozen and cut into squares of deliciousness. My little brother gave me the latest Dixie Chicks CD, my brother's girlfriend gave me a beautiful plant, and my parents read me a special birthday prayer and gave me a cookbook, some money, and best of all, a duffel bag on wheels from QVC.

Bright side

In other news ...

I'd like to recommend glamscience. There was shipping mix-up with my order, and the artist was gracious and accommodating. And her stuff is very cute, particularly this shirt that the universe deemed needed to be possessed by Jessie's daughter. Check it out.

As for the non-race parts of the weekend ... on Friday night, I had dinner with three girlfriends. We had a pretty good time if you don't count my very pregnant friend's increasing discomfort and my inability to stop staring inappropriately at my other friend's once small boobs.

I left early the next morning for the big city, where I was treated with homemade Maryland-style crab soup and homemade bread and salad (all delicious) along with a surprise stack of early birthday gifts! So that was really great.

Then ... I can't remember what we did. Oh! We went to see the Anne Frank exhibit, which was disappointing. I cannot recommend it because it was basically pages from a history book enlarged and hung on big banners and that was it. I guess I was spoiled by the exhibit at the Imperial War Museum on the Holocaust, otherwise known as possibly one of the best exhibits ever created on planet Earth, but this one was boring and not even worth going to. It saddens me to say that, but there it is.

Then we went to Bourbon Street to see my brother playing a long daytime gig with some of his friends in a band. As always, he was great, and the energy was fantastic even though the crowd was full of cheesy tourists dancing their hearts out to "Small Town" by John Cougar Mellencamp like it's the most happiness-inducing song known to man.

After that, we basically rested. We tried to have Italian pasta for dinner but had no luck so we ended up having Chinese pasta, which was pretty good if possibly not the most ideal thing to eat before a race. We started All the King's Men, which is just not good at all. "This movie does not do justice to a beautiful book!" I proclaimed. "It is shameful." So we turned it off and went to bed early because we had to get up at the crack of dawn for the race the next morning.

After the race, we ate a lot of leftovers and started a game of Scrabble and listened to The Darkness because it seemed like triumphant music and we were feeling pretty triumphant. I basically started passing out at the table once the feeling shifted from triumph to I Must Be Lying Down Right Now, so we retired for a nap. I burrowed under the fleece sheets for an undetermined period of time like a zombie, and then we finished our game and I went home, where I couldn't even stay up for half of the Oscars. (Luckily Kymm stayed awake to recap them for me.)

I might not have liked All the King's Men, but I did like Shut Up and Sing. What a great documentary. I've always liked the Dixie Chicks but haven't been a diehard fan or anything. It was great to see them win those Grammys recently (even though I felt their acceptance speeches were lacking), and the viewing of this movie could not be more timely after that awards night because it makes their sweeping victory seem so much more meaningful because you see what came before that album and all that went into writing those songs and how their future was totally uncertain and their careers and lives were re-written. It is a really great behind-the-scenes look at the music industry, the publicity industry, and how they were professionally and personally affected by the aftermath of Natalie Maines' comment that they are ashamed that that the president is from Texas. Plus, you can't help but be reminded when watching it that they are talented beyond belief. I highly recommend this one.

Meanwhile, I thought my birthday gift to myself was running the race, but I guess in actuality it's a new plumbing line. Oh, joy. The leak detection company came over this morning and found my leak by shooting air into the line, which I think made it worse, for what was once an invisible leak is now erupting in my front yard like a small geyser and flowing down the sidewalk to the end of the street. I got two plumbing estimates this morning and settled on one that seems reasonable for replacing my line between the water meter and my house, jackhammering the driveway, and re-paving the driveway once it's blown to smithereens. [That would be 1,100 big, beautiful dollars that I was hoping to spend on (a) car repairs or (b) airfare to some place pretty and far, far away on a yet-to-be-planned vacation.]

This picture does not even begin to capture the bubbly ferociousness of this leak. Oh, well. At least it's in the yard and not underneath my actual house. Bright side!

Race report

The race ended up being a lot more fun than I ever thought it would be.

Basically, I worried about a lot of things in advance for no good reason.

The weather was perfect. It was probably the most beautiful day we've had this year. Sunny and breezy. Not hot, not cold. Just perfect.

I never had to use a porta potty. The lines were too long before the race started, and it only took one whiff of a set of porta potties along the route for me to make up my mind that there was no way in hell. And I never even had to go! It was like my bladder ceased to exist. It was amazing.

I never had to stop to walk. I ran very slowly, to the point where I was totally in the back with the walkers, but that's okay. I mastered the art of taking a cup of gatorade and drinking it without stopping even though it sometimes ended up all over my chin. I had it in my mind that I would run as slowly as I needed to go in order to not get so tired that I had to stop running, and it worked. I mean, I was tired, don't get me wrong, but I never felt like I was going to have to freak out and stop. There were high school and college students handing out gatorade every two miles or so, and a group of them started cheering as we approached, "Great job, walkers! Let's go, walkers!" Then one girl spotted me jogging at my turtle-y pace and yelled loudly, "And runners! Great job, runners!" That made me giggle.

My hips were a little sore, but they never bothered me the way they usually do. Maybe taking ibuprofin the night before and the morning of the race helped, as did possibly using this crazy thing on them the night before to try to loosen them up a little bit. So that was a relief.

At one point at about mile 10 while I was running around the bayou, a group of three little kids started storming towards me as if to tackle me, which was somewhat alarming, but they stopped when they reached me and stuck out their hands so I could give them high fives as I jogged by. That was sort of awesome.

There were groups of spectators handing out pretzels and little chunks of hamburgers and hotdogs and cocktails. (I passed.)

When I approached the overpass for the second and final time, James Brown came on and sang "Get Up Offa that Thing," which is the perfect overpass song. And between miles 11 and 12, Eminem appeared to sing "Lose Yourself," and those were my two favorite musical moments of the race.

(I had my shuffle in my pocket, having been persuaded by my sister the experienced racer that I probably shouldn't use it, but when I saw that 8 out of 10 people had them, I said fuck it and decided to use it. I am glad I did. I can see what she's saying that it's not really good etiquette and that it isolates you and keeps you from experiencing the great outdoors and the atmosphere and everything, but I kept mine turned low enough that I could talk and listen when necessary to the nice woman around me who struck up conversations with me every now and then about her Alaska marathon and her plantar fasciitis, and I certainly wasn't running near anyone would need to tell me to move so they could run past me. I could still hear the cheers and whatnot, so that was good.)

Sometimes I would forget I was in a crowd. I belched loudly after gulping back some gatorade at one point, felt myself turning red, and yelped, "Excuse me!" to anyone in my vicinity who might have heard me. And when listening to "I Get Along" by the Libertines, I said aloud the lyric, "Fuck 'em," and then I remembered that some folks around me didn't have earphones in and could definitely hear me. I hope they didn't think I was talking about them.

I was getting pretty tired and sort of bored by about mile 9, so I decided to open a small packet of strawberry/banana-flavored phlegm (I mean carb gel) and see if that would give me some energy. I ate it in tiny little squirts for about the next mile, and it was pretty disgusting, but I do think it helped. It did not make me feel like Jackie Joyner-Kersee, but it put a tiny bit of pep in my step and I was able to speed up a little for the last mile or two, which felt great. As a whole, the race was infinitely better than any of my training runs. Those were mostly such drudgery, but this one never felt that way at all.

I was happy to see my boyfriend, who'd finished the race more than an hour before like the speedster that he is, up on a ramp at the finish line. I was also glad to have finished in under three hours. I ate some orange slices and a half a banana and drank some gatorade and just enjoyed the post-race sunshine and camaraderie and then we headed home.

I feel this strange need now to set another goal because not having one anymore leaves me feeling sort of out of focus. But I'm going to give myself a little time to think that one over. I turn 32 the day after tomorrow, and I think running in this half-marathon was a good birthday gift to myself. I might barely be able to walk today, but I did what I set out to do, and I couldn't have done it at 22 or 25 or 30, and so maybe 32 will be a strong and healthy and fun age of new goals to achieve and adventures for me. I hope so.

Running worries & happies

Here are some things I'm worried about relative to the half-marathon.

Fatigue: I don't know if I am strong enough to make it 13 miles. I've run 7 and 8 and 9 and 10 twice and 11 once and that's all swell, but by the end of those 10-mile and 11-mile runs, I was basically delirious and hallucinating, so I am kind of worried about 13+. How do people run whole marathons? I'll never know. I'm worried most about my hips because they've basically felt like they're bursting into flames by the end of my long runs. Maybe I should take some Motrin or Ibuprofen in advance? Maybe that will help. I have this stupid idea that it's wrong to stop to walk (except on a bathroom or Gatorade stop), and I am worried that I will feel like a failure if I just poop out and have to take a walking break or two. I have a lot of anxiety about this because I tell myself that anyone can walk 13 miles but that I've gone through all of this fucking running training to actually be able to try to run 13 miles and that it will have all been a big waste of time if I have to take walking breaks. I know this is crazy but it's the truth.

Crowds: I've only run in one other race since starting all of this training last April, and we got lost and were 10 minutes late to the starting line, so I ran with only 2 other people, which was fun but was not exactly a good indicator of what it's like to run en masse. I'm kind of worried because I am technically running but will easily be slow enough to be grouped in with the walkers and I don't know, I'm just kind of anxious about the other people aspect of this thing. I would really like not to miss the beginning of the race this time.

Weather: The forecast calls for severe thunderstorms. I'm not the best runner in the most ideal, perfect weather, so this concerns me. I will plan to bring a hat to keep the rain out of my eyes. Surely the race will not be canceled due to weather. What would thousands of people in the streets in running clothes do in that case? I guess find some place to eat. Or get drunk. It rained for the 5K, but that was pretty much a drizzle by the time we got to the starting line. We were wet, but it's not like there was zero visibility or something. I'm not sure how I will manage my breathing if there is rain shooting up my nose.

Illness: My boyfriend's fighting a bad sinus infection and might not be well enough to run. This saddens and alarms me because I know he wants to and I want that for him, and I also want that for me because the thought of facing this experience alone makes me very scared.

The Bathroom Situation: I spend more time worrying about this than any other issue related to the race. There is no way I can make it that many hours and miles without stopping to use the bathroom. And I fear porta-potties more than just about anything on earth except for cockroaches. Bathroom germs are at the heart of my germophobia, and porta-potties are ground zero for the most disgusting bathrooms in existence. I can't even really think about it or I feel like I'm going to black out. I've thought about bringing miniature bottles of hand sanitizer or travel wet wipes in my pockets so I can at least clean my hands after going in there and having to touch the door handle. I know that this makes me very insane but I can't help it. I think about porta-potties and want to die. I tell myself that I can hold it for the duration, but I know that I am lying to myself. Ugh.

:::
Here are some things that I have enjoyed while training for this race:

Music: I've mostly listened to the same songs on my shuffle over and over, but I've never really grown tired of them. They're like old friends now. I hear the opening chords of Mike Doughty's "I Hear the Bells" and know that I can make it through that one because I love it so much. I feel like the guys in Green Day are my brothers, so familiar has Nimrod grown in the past few weeks thanks to copying my boyfriend's CD. "The Speed Test" from Thoroughly Modern Millie is a great running song because it gets faster as it goes and makes me feel like I can do that, too. There are so many, and they have really been my friends throughout this. Running has been very much a solo gig for me, not counting the panting comrades of the gym whose faces and sweaty strides I've grown all too familiar with, and these singers and songs have been totally my companions. I don't care how cheesy that sounds. I guess I might have to leave the shuffle at home if the thunderstorms really are that severe -- and I know many people think running with music in a race is really rude and dangerous anyway -- but that will pretty much break my heart.

Watching Good TV at the Gym: I've been pretty good at timing my trips to the gym for when I know I can get control of a TV that has a good show on it. I ran my first 8-miler during a Bravo marathon of Friday Night Lights one rainy weekend, which was fantastic. I've spent mostly every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday night there since Daylight Savings Time ended in October, so my viewings of things like Gilmore Girls and Friday Night Lights and Ugly Betty and The Office this season are totally linked in closed-captioned memories to those goddamn treadmills and the other people working out at the gym. I know which people like the fans to be on and which ones don't, I know the people who don't care what channel the TV is on because they're reading a magazine or talking on their cell phones, and I know which men to avoid like the plague because their sweat flies so furiously that it hits my eyeballs.

The Great Outdoors: Before the time change and on weekends when the weather has been nice, I've loved running outside. The egrets, the pelicans, the flowers, the other runners, the bikers. The old lady who walks her giant labradoodle who always, always walks with a small travel-sized green umbrella in his mouth. I wonder how he breathes or pants with it in his mouth like that, but he seems to take the job very seriously and be happy doing it. Really, the dogs have been enjoyable overall. I am lucky to live in an area that is pretty amazing for outdoor exercise, and I told myself that over and over when I would want to give up and would remember my sister up there in the tundra and how she'd really like to run outside in the winter but can't or her throat might freeze shut.

The Training as Its Own Reward: I think that is kind of a dumb way to put it, but that's just the way it is. Until last April, I had long been in a funk of no exercise. Ever. Zero. And I was miserable a lot of the time and wondered what was wrong with me that I could not bring myself to participate in this way of life that everyone around me seemed to do without giving it a second thought. I dragged myself to the start of Couch to 5K and then through One Hour Runner and then into the half-marathon training program and even though my body has not been magically transformed into some state of fiery physical fitness, I feel like my mind and my dare I say spirit have been transformed. Because I made myself do something that I knew I wouldn't enjoy and I didn't quit. And because sometimes I even enjoyed it a little bit. Not that often, but sometimes. And even though I have mostly not liked running, I know that it is good for my heart and my mind, and I like that very much.

:::
In closing, tonight's 2-mile run was the last one of my training, and it was pretty awesome. I felt energetic and happy and the weather could not have been more perfectly warm and cool and sunny. The best part was seeing a familiar car approach and recognizing my dad, who spotted me on his way home and stopped to say hi. I jogged in place and panted that I couldn't stop or I would never start again (true), so he just told me I looked great and outstretched his arm through the car window to hand me one of his homemade oven-roasted peanuts, which he was snacking on from a bag in his lap. Of all my running moments, that was definitely one of my favorites.

Ramona lives

I guess it's time for another wrap-up. On Friday night, we had a fancy dinner ... my boyfriend had steak and I had the bouillabaisse, which contained basically every seafood known to man. My favorite thing was the spicy shrimp napoleon, which was fried mirliton slices stacked with shrimp remoulade. We had two somewhat frightening parade route crosses to make on foot for the sake of this meal, but it was worth it. We exchanged Valentine's Day gifts after dinner, and I love my Everwood CD, chocolates (so far I've tasted the excellent tarragon grapefruit and the lavendar vanilla), and earrings.

We got up Saturday morning and decided to keep eating ... he had a giant chicken salad sandwich on focaccia and I had grits, scrambled eggs, and onion biscuits. Eventually we headed to the park for our last! long! run! of half-marathon training. I never really got into this run even though I really love the park. It was supposed to be 8 miles, but I only made it to about seven. He ran almost 13, for the love of heaven. I don't know if it was the cloudy day, the strong wind, or just the feeling I've decided I don't like of running in a giant circle around a track, but I did not feel strong at all and never really hit my normal rhythm and stride, turtle-like as they may be. But I survived, despite a strange altercation during our post-run stretching session with Mardi Gras revelers doing drunken, shirtless pull-ups nearby.

As for the running training, I am under no delusion that I am actually ready to run a half-marathon. I'm as ready as I'll ever be, though, and I'm just going to face the music. We drove over the overpass that we'll cross twice on race day, and I felt a little faint as I realized how steep it is. But whatever! I'll just cross that bridge (literally) when I come to it. I will say that I wish that my friends were still coming for the race, and I hope they'll come next year!

After running, we hobbled to Starbucks and then home. Soon enough it was time for dinner, so we headed to La Vita, the new place where Gabrielle used to be, and while the food was pretty good -- chicken pesto pizza for him, linguine in marinara sauce with shrimp for me, along with some bruschetta -- the service was so preposterously bad that it was laughable. We got our appetizer before we got our drinks (not exactly complicated -- sprite and root beer), and the couple near us got their ENTREES before they got theirs. On the menu, it said you got one refill on your soda, so the waitress brought one to my boyfriend when he'd finished his, but she just took my glass away and never brought another one. One waiter knocked a bottle of red wine into the lap of an older gentleman diner, and no one even seemed to care. No waiters or managers came over to assist, no one offered additional napkins or soda water or anything -- and finally he and his wife just left in disgust. It was bizarre. I wondered if we might be on candid camera. It's really a shame, and I hope they can turn it around, because like I said, the food was yummy.

We knew better than to attempt a dessert order at that establishment, so we headed to our favorite dessert place, which was closed for Mardi Gras. So we saw no other option than to go to the supermarket and buy a pint of ice cream for each of us. (Ben & Jerry's Mint Chocolate Cookie for me, Haagen Dazs Exta Rich Light Coffee for him.)

My product recommendation of the day: fleece sheets. They are very soft and warm. But make sure you use an extra fabric softener sheet or two in the dryer as they are prone to sparky static.

Let's see, what else? We watched American Experience, and it was a little bit disappointing. While it had some great stuff about the early years of the city, I guess I thought it would focus on that and be more of an archival, historical sort of documentary instead of a bunch of creative types waxing poetic about the magical, mystical, mysterious New Orleans. Some of it was just eye-rollingly trite. I still recommend the show, but I think I confused American Experience with American Masters, which is a freaking amazing show in terms of power and quality -- every one I've seen has blown me away, particularly the episodes on Robert Capa and Eugene O'Neill.

I was very struck by this entry by Andrea. I think it would be a good idea for me to think about how I can put some things in my life on P. Not that my life is so complicated or difficult, but there are probably things that I make more complicated than they need to be, even if it's just mentally/emotionally more than practically. Andrea is wise.

Because my friend recently saw Half Nelson and has been seized by Goslingitis, I brought Chinese food and The Notebook over to her house on Sunday night. We all dug into cashew shrimp, sesame chicken, vegetable fried rice, and egg rolls, and as we wept and wailed loudly at the end of the movie, her three-year-old jumped on top of her, clutched her face in her hands, and consoled her with great vehemence: "It's okay, Mommy. It's OKAY." I have decided that three-year-olds are the most awesome creatures on earth, especially when they do things like try to fake cry and then burst out laughing, recite the Pledge of Allegiance, sound out words and ecstatically shout out the letter when they figure out what it starts with, perform the entire refrain to "Amie" by Pure Prairie League, and have the same haircut as Ramona Geraldine Quimby.

Meet you in the light

Okay. Weekend update. Life update.

On Friday evening, my boyfriend and I dined with friends and ate our weight in bread and pasta. It was a fun time.

We woke up on Saturday morning and did some errands ... went to the car repair shop, dropped off the lawnmower to be fixed, and other such thrills. We met up with a friend of his and his son after their early morning race and had coffee and giant muffins. Later, we went out to lunch and prepared for our long runs. He ran 12 miles, and I ran 11. I'm not going to lie to you. My sister told me that by miles 11, 12, 13 in a half-marathon, it just starts to hurt. And I've never made it past 11, but she is right. My feet and hips were just hurting and hurting hard. It was nice again to see my boyfriend running along the route at warp speed and to have him drive around to find me once he was done and showered and I was still plugging along to offer me some water and encouragement. Musical high points were Keane's "Bend and Break" and "Holiday" by Green Day. So thanks to Grace and Shelley for those great songs.

While trudging along near the end, I became plagued by doubts that I'll ever be able to run the half-marathon, but I guess I won't know until I try. It's a weird thing. I personally think that running this many miles at one time is kind of inhuman and insane, and I am not going to do it anymore once I've done the half-marathon. I want to keep running, but I am going to definitely stick with more reasonable regular runs of 3-4-5 miles. Once I get to 8 or 9, it's so painful and I get so delirious, but I really want to do the race. I'll be in the back of the pack, probably alongside the walkers, but I really want to try.

I also hope to diversify my exercise and do things other than running, like going to yoga and pilates and some of the wild cross-training classes with a hundred people in them that I see going on at the gym sometimes when everyone is working themselves into a frothy craze jump roping, riding stationery bikes, running suicides, and doing God knows what all at the same time. I want to stick with running, but I don't want it to be the only activity in my life anymore.

We collapsed eventually after our runs and decided to go see Volver because it would take little to no energy. I went into a feeding frenzy at the movie and ate popcorn with a giant box of Reese's Pieces dumped into it. I liked the movie more than he did; Penelope Cruz certainly was fantastic in it, as was everyone else. It was my first Almodovar movie, and I enjoyed it very much.

On Sunday morning, I attempted to make the cinnamon sour cream walnut coffee cake from Amy Sedaris' book, and it was fairly disastrous. I started making it when I was barely awake, and though it looked cooked on the top after 35 minutes at 325 degrees, when I turned the bundt pan over, it fell out in a big pile of goo instead of a lovely heart shape. UGH. I was so mad at Amy Sedaris! I cried, so upset was I. Then I re-read the recipe and saw that I'd misread it -- it was supposed to be 55 minutes at 350 degrees. So I cranked up the oven, picked up the blob of goo with my hands, threw it back in the pan, and baked it until it looked cooked. Some bites were salvageable; some tasted vaguely burned. Maybe I'll try it again someday, because I think it's probably really good when not totally effed up. I'm sorry for cursing you when it was all my fault, Amy Sedaris.

After that, I headed to a luncheon for my friend who's about to have her second baby. We ate shrimp and corn soup, chicken salad, mini-quiches, fresh fruit, strawberry cake, and various other delectable treats. We had a nice time. I am still full from what I ate this weekend. On Sunday night, I lay around like a sloth. It was the only thing I could do. The cats piled on top of me in commiserate slothitude and we watched the Grammy Awards and Brothers and Sisters.

While glad that they won so many awards, I was bummed that the Dixie Chicks could not be bothered to pull together in some kind of unified effort to present an articulate, organized acceptance speech. I know they had to give 5, but even for the first one, they were so totally not making it happen. Their performance was amazing. I mean it. Even though I've seen them perform that song over and over, they always look so totally into it and like they're singing it for the first time. Why could you not be so powerful in your acceptance speeches, Dixie Chicks? You would have come off a lot better as a whole. Seriously. You looked like kick-ass songwriters, musicians, and performers during the song, but you just were kind of clownin' during the speeches and clearly I am probably more bothered by this than I should be. (As for Brothers and Sisters, I think Rob Lowe and Calista Flockhart are very good actors who handle their witty repartee very well dialogue-wise but there needs to be more repartee and less kissing. It is wholly un-chemistry-producing and not believable. That said, I maintain that this show gets better every week and I am so excited to see Emily VanCamp join the cast in next week's episode that it's bonkers.)

Last night I watched This Film Is Not Yet Rated, which I definitely recommend.

The best news I have is that Mary Chapin Carpenter has a new album coming out on March 6, and Anne Lamott has a new book coming out on March 20. I cannot wait, I cannot wait, I cannot wait.

Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh, well fine

There are a couple of new thirtysomething episodes up at YouTube. Post-Op, which is not one of my favorites, and Happy New Year, which totally IS. And as a bonus, it features Louis DiMucci as Peter Montefiore (singing, no less). A really excellent episode all around, really, with tons going on with each character. The perfect combination of grown-ups and kids, quiet and loud, happy and sad. With a little James Joyce thrown in for good measure. It is really strange, watching it again, how familiar it is, how I can recite so many of the lines. I have really spent an inordinate number of hours in my life watching thirtysomething. And my life has been all the better for it! I swear.

American Experience: New Orleans airs Monday night on PBS. Check your local listings for times. I've never seen an American Experience I didn't like, and I have high hopes for this one.

I enjoyed reading Pajiba's take on the best tearjerking moments of recent years. I think I've seen all of the ones they list. I'll have to think about my own favorite tearjerking moments. I was glad to see In America mentioned because I loved that movie, but when watching the scene again, I was reminded that I didn't really get the last line. I still don't.

Anyway. I don't really know what else to say. It looks like I have a leak in my plumbing line, probably somewhere underneath my driveway. Next week the estimates from plumbers will begin. I don't want to blow all my savings on it. It can't be cheap to rip out a plumbing line and put in a new one and re-pave a driveway JESUS CHRIST. My sister advised me to get a zero interest credit card and pay for it with that rather than wipe out my savings. She is a financial guru so I tend to heed her advice on such matters. I am choosing not to think about it until the weekend is over.

Now I must prepare to eat lots of bread and garlic spread.

Souper

Monday. It is sunny! Sunny days have been so few and far between in the past month around here that I'm still kind of in shock when a sunny day appears.

To catch up:

On Friday night, my boyfriend and I got Thai take-out (cashew shrimp and red curry with chicken) and watched the first half of Slither. I rented this because I am very amused by James Gunn's MySpace page (particularly entries like this one detailing a recent trip to London), which I discovered because he's the husband of Jenna Fischer (Pam on The Office), whose MySpace page is also fun (like this entry in which she tells about her own history trying to make it as an actress).

On Saturday, we went to the library, had a good lunch of yummy sandwiches, and embarked on our long runs of the weekend. It was in the upper 40s outside and only partly sunny, but the small amount of sun and the fact that it wasn't windy out were enough to make it bearable weather-wise. (I know the upper 40s is not really cold, but I am a lightweight who's cold in the house when the heater is cranked up to 72 degrees.) I put on probably too many layers than necessary and headed out.

Surprisingly, this was actually a pretty pleasant run for me, or as pleasant as a 10-mile run can be. I plotted out a much better route than last time, allowing me the chance to stop for a quick emergency bathroom break at my brother's house and a guzzle of Powerade in my driveway. I was tired, and my feet hurt, but I never reached the absolute depths of despair like I did on my last 10-miler. It was very helpful and motivating to have my boyfriend speed past me at one point at the speed of light and to have him drive to find me once he was long done with his run to check on me as I chugged through the last mile or so. I even felt like I could have run 11 if I'd had time, but I didn't as we had massage appointments scheduled. The massage was great except for when she had me lie on the floor to step on my glutes. I told her they needed stretching, and she did a good job with that, but my pelvic bones were mashing into the floor and that was painful. Once I got up on the massage table, it was much better. I think I will ix-nay the floor work next time. I appreciate a massage therapist trying new techniques, and the glute work definitely helped, but the floor was just way too hard on my already super-sore bod.

After the massages, we stopped for coffee and headed home so I could start The Soup. I'd eaten it once before as prepared by Shelley and have always remembered it with great love. She sent me the recipe along with lots of moral support. For some reason the soup seemed like a scary thing to make, but it wasn't at all. And it was very, very, yummy. (See the short Soup photo set here; it contains the recipe.) For dessert we had vanilla ice cream with shavings of dark chocolate raspberry Hershey's kisses.

At some point we finished Slither. This is a very, very, very, very silly gross-out comic horror film, and I can't really recommend it for anything other than the fact that it might make you giggle with its grossosity. And the fact that it stars Captain Malcolm Reynolds. We also played a game of Scrabble, of course, and went out to take a few pictures of a burned church.

After he went home, I went to see a local production of Annie with my Maryelizabeth solely because we both grew up loving Annie a lot (her more, even, if that's possible) and her three-year-old is really into the movie. It was fun, but we were both rather appalled that Annie's hair was brown. No red wig. No washable red hair spray dye. No effort to remove the lines about her red hair from the dialogue. It was confounding and quite frankly upsetting. Maryelizabeth could hardly speak about it after the play, so flabbergasted was she. "I could have lent them my Annie wig from childhood," she lamented. "My mom still has it!" It is a sad day indeed when Annie's hair is nowhere close to being red. WTF?

I went out for sushi with a friend during the Super Bowl so I don't have much to say about it, other than this: to my friends Amy and Erin and other normal, nice, and sportsmanlike Bears fans, I feel your pain about your team's loss. I truly do. But to the Bears fans who sent nasty, hateful, and gloating comments to me after the Saints lost to the Bears -- and those who displayed their ugliness for all the world to see -- all I can really say to you now is right back atcha, you big mean jerks.

After sushi, I started Grey Gardens. I've been interested in it ever since seeing the divine Christine Ebersole perform "Another Winter in a Summer Town," a very beautiful song from the new musical based on the documentary, on The View. I haven't finished it yet, but so far, it's pretty damn riveting. It's hard to watch sometimes, but it's mostly just fascinating. I look forward to finishing it. And now if you'll excuse me I am going to heat up some soup.

But before that ... I want to share my new favorite new running song with you. It's called "Don't Know Why (You Stay)" and it's by a band called The Essex Green. I discovered it as a mention over at Sweet Juniper, and you can listen it in its entire swell glory right here.

Pretties

And here are a couple of recommendations.

Pretty song

I had What About Brian on the other night as I lay on the couch working on the computer. My ears caught sound of a song that I knew immediately that I was about to be in love with.

I googled a few of the lyrics and found the song. It's new to me, but it's an old song. It's called "Tomorrow Is a Long Time" and in iTunes there are tons of versions by people like Bob Dylan and Elvis Presley and Joan Baez. The one I heard on the show was by Nickel Creek. You can listen to a little snippet of it here, and you can hear the whole song from this NPR page after listening to a short commentary about the band.

I don't even think that What About Brian is a good show, but the scene that had the song was one when a mom/wife watches the dad/husband out of the window while he plays with their three young daughers on a pier. The husband and wife are getting a divorce, and they are struggling with whether or not to let the youngest daughter have an operation to try to restore her hearing. The woman gets so moved watching her estranged husband with the daughter that the tears well up and fall while this song plays in the background. Then my tears welled up and fell. And they have every time that I've listened to this song since. And believe me. It's been a lot of times.

I think that you should download the song immediately, but if you want to watch it in the context of the scene, you can find the episode here. (If you skip to Section 3 and then scroll to about 15:20 of that section, you can find it without watching the whole show.) It will be annoying because you'll have to watch an ad at the beginning of the section, but it really is a lovely scene.

Pretty clothes

I like this stuff. I'm particularly fond of the toddler t-shirts. But I'd kind of like one of everything.