Soaked to the bone

The wettest I’ve ever been was the night of my 38th birthday. It was the same day that my husband, parrot, and I moved to our new town. We arrived after dark the day before we were to get the keys to our new home, checked into a hotel room, and headed out for dinner. Our parrot loves to travel in the car but hates hotel rooms, so we took her with us so she could sit in the car.

Dinner was a random selection from the GPS that turned out to be a French / Vietnamese place within walking distance of what would become our new home. Throughout dinner we heard thunder, but by the time we realized it was a serious storm the rain was coming down in torrents and the thunder was loud, fast, and frequent.

We were worried about our little nervous bird. It had already been a long, difficult day for her, so headed out into the rain. At first we had the luxury of dashing from awning to awning, but when we reached the corner of the building there was nothing but open parking lot. My husband took off. He was wearing running shoes and looked like a cheetah as he vanished into a fog of rain. I was in flip flops.

I was already dripping wet, and after stumbling through a few puddles I realized it wasn’t possible to get any wetter. I resigned myself to a slow jog. Life moved in slow motion as I trotted toward the dry zone. I must have been really slow because when I finally got to the car the Cheetah asked why it took me so long. Even the parrot looked confused!

The next morning our wet clothes were still wetter than if they had just come out of the washer!

Running

OK, remember back when I said I didn’t get into running to race, and "I don’t want to run a marathon…" Well, somewhere between one friend’s challenge, another friend tricking me* into a 7 mile run, and Runner’s World issue, I find myself (Chris included) signed up for and (here’s the surprising part:) looking forward to a half-marathon this fall. I’m still not sure if I’m crazy, stupid, or actually enjoying it. As with all running, it isn’t until I stop running, stretch, and shower that I realize that running is not the most idiotic thing I’ve ever dreamed of doing. So, I’ll let you know my conclusion of the half-marathon somewhere around Thanksgiving. Either way, I’ll be thankful for the holiday. I’ll be thankful that it’s over or thankful that I’ve done it.


*"tricking me" means I forgot my watch and was reliant on my multi-marathon running buddy to give me mileage. We were so busy chatting that I forgot to check the mileage part. Some would argue it wasn’t so much a trick as fate.

Back in school

Who would have thought that, more than a dozen years after finishing school (the second time), I would be back at it?

This time, I’m testing out the community college scene. It’s hard to say if the curriculum is less challenging at this community college than at a university, but it certainly feels a lot easier. Maybe that’s because it is easier, or maybe it’s because I’m more grown up. (Lower your eyebrow. “More grown up” does not mean “grown up”!)

So, if you’ve been wondering why these postings have been few and far between…thank you for your loyalty to my little musings. It's because, as the old saying goes, “cobbler’s children have no shoes”.

I’m enjoying school. I got started in this as a way to delve into something I’ve been curious about for a long time, and maybe as a way to meet new people in a new place. So far, I’ve learned a lot about web design…

Mosquito

It happened tonight. I was outside tending my rain-weary pansies when I saw the first one land on my arm. I felt it and thought, “Ah-ha! Got ya!”, and in a very winter-like attitude, I blew hard on my arm to make the mosquito fly away.
Wait. What was I thinking?! By the end of my pansy patch, I had four mosquito bites and was screaming up the stairs for the Cortaid. I think the only thing that made the whole episode worthwhile was when I asked my husband for some help with the one bite that was in a hard-to-reach spot on my back, and he rubbed in the anti-itch cream into the bite for at least 20 seconds. Ah! Now that was sinfully satisfying, yet not something that would have garnered the admonishment of “STOP SCRATCHING!” from a grandmother.
But...aren’t we supposed to see fireflies before mosquitoes?!

Spring has sprung

In March, the Robins began screaming through the trees in clusters of threes and fours fighting for the hen of their dreams, while subdued Cardinal couples bounced around the forest floor gathering fallen dogwood berries. And plump squirrels scavenged for nuts and twigs as if they, like I, were not convinced winter would ever end.

Spring taunted us. Two days of warmth, ten days of chill…a day of sun, three days of gloom…wind, rain, cold, hot…. The first signs of spring were subtitle, as they always are. Even though it was still cold, the plants knew. A crocus here, a paperwhite there…then a daffodil sprout, bulges on tree branches where leaves wanted out. And then, all at once, spring was announced by an explosion of cherry blossoms, daffodils, tulips, forsythia, pear blossoms, dogwoods, and budding azaleas.

Even so, it wasn’t until today that it really felt like we had broken winter’s grip. It was 77 degrees under a brilliantly blue sky, and the nursery was hopping. I bought my weight in flowers and herbs and spent the rest of the day arched over my gardenette (it really is small), tilling up worms in black soil, brushing aside bugs, and marveling at the prospect of warm summer nights, annoying mosquitoes, and the season’s first firefly.

The much-anticipated spring is here.

The Ides of March

It’s hard to believe that we’ve been in Virginia for a year now. The time has gone so quickly; it feels like just yesterday I was updating “3,000 miles and a Parrot”, as we drove those last few miles through that long tunnel under the Chesapeake Bay into Virginia Beach. And it feels like just yesterday we were watching the flowers peek out from their winter slumber (daffodils, dogwoods, pears, cherries, azaleas…) in the wonderment of a new world.

A spring, summer, and winter have passed, and I am watching the spring flowers peek out from their winter slumber again. This year, I have endured the winter and can truly appreciate their coming. Dark, morning runs at 20, 9, & 15 degrees; blustery afternoons when the wind bites unprotected ears; and the tease of recent 70-degree Saturdays that fuel my spring fever.

With the Ides of March tomorrow, I know that the tug-of-war between winter and spring will soon be over. March came in like a lion, with 9” of snow on March 1st. I hope it will hold true to proverb and go out like a lamb.

(go back to our site)

Looking back on 2008

2008 has been a year of change for us. After more than eleven years in San Diego, we moved back across the country this spring.

With Holly’s travel cage belted in the back seat, we set out on a 3,000-mile journey from the Pacific to the Atlantic.

We arrived in Virginia Beach at the bloom of a brilliant spring. Summer reacquainted us with thunderstorms, mosquitoes, fireflies, and warm summer nights. Throughout our time in Virginia Beach, we took several road trips (usually with Holly) to see family, friends, and explore southern towns.

At the end of the summer, we moved to Washington DC, arriving just as the leaves were beginning to change colors. Our neighborhood was designed with many trees, so we were surrounded in autumn color and, eventually, in piles of crunchy leaves.

We’re enjoying the area; there are miles of wooded walking paths, a small lake nearby, and a village center offering everything from a pharmacy and a Moroccan restaurant to a grocery with shelves of Asian chili pastes and Mexican cheeses. To top it all off, a twenty-minute drive gets us into the nation’s capitol. There is so much to explore in 2009!

Here’s a song that looks back on 2008 (to the tune of the Twelve Days of Christmas)…

On the Twelfth day of Christmas, I made this song for you…
Twelve short months passing,
Eleven years of So Cal,
Ten months of East Coast,
Nine days of driving,
Eight family visits,
Seven months of beaches,
Six neighborhood dogs,
Five miles of sand*,
Four new addresses,
Three different homes,
Two vagabonds,
And a green parrot in the back seat

*We ran a five-mile foot race through a course full of obstacles, mud, and deep, soft sand. You can see it’s not your average course and participants get pretty filthy by the end, but it was fun and we took a refreshing dip in the Chesapeake (shoes and all) afterwards.