Valentine

I think it's still fair to say that I celebrated IQD this year, although it did admittedly bear more similarities to Valentine's Day than past ones have. Then again, it was also way more fun!

David flew in pre-dawncrack, at 5:48 a.m. My neighbor had loaned me her car, so I was able to pick him up, and then drive around for a while searching (beanlessly) for coffee until it was light enough to see at Minnehaha Falls Park. The falls weren't frozen solid, thanks to last week's thaw--although it was 10° when we were there--but were still impressive in their iciness.

We stopped by my favorite Dunn Bros for the coffee we hadn't found earlier, took a quick tour of Uptown, and wandered down to the frozen expanse of Lake Calhoun. There's enough Northwesterner left in me, especially with a fellow web-footer, to be deeply impressed by that much ice!

Speaking of ice, we later went skating at Lake of the Isles, which not only has a cozy temporary warming shelter, but offers FREE ice skates for the borrowing! I was dreadful, of course (incurring the looks only persons two and half feet tall--and, naturally, extremely proficient on their own blades--can bestow upon such a hopeless elder), but did make it three loops without falling before deciding I'd had enough.

In the evening, we went to the ever-delightful Cafe Brenda, and then to The Two Gentlemen of Verona at the Guthrie. The latter was staged as a 1950s live television quasi-musical extravaganza, which made for some very creative characters and a lot of fun. It was too cold to explore the mill ruins; David was very brave and never actually complained about the cold, but although 20 (which it did eventually hit before dropping again) feels balmy under certain circumstances, it's still freakishly bitter for most normal people, and he suggested we enjoy more of the Cities' outdoor activities when it's a bit warmer. He had to fly back this afternoon, concluding the whirlwind arctic holiday adventure.

Remember, although only the hardiest visit during the winter, Chez CëRïSë and the Disaster Kitchen always welcome visitors! Make YOUR reservations today!

Photos courtesy of David

Things That Are Awesome II

Or: This is what the Internet was invented for.*

So yesterday's video got me in the mood for hearing/watching a bit of Toto, and this is what the Internet yielded:

OH MY GOODNESS. I had never seen this before, and I find it hard to believe that my life had been so incomplete. I dig nothing quite like a good 80s music video (Talking Heads and Michael Jackson are among my favorite pick-me-ups), and this one is amazing.

And thanks to YouTube, and its "Related Videos" links of genius, I also discovered this gem, another favorite song whose video I'd never seen, which is even better:

I laughed so hard that I missed parts of the video. The raw exuberance here is priceless. It's definitely a new favorite.

YouTube also linked me to this Dead or Alive video, which is fairly awesome in its own right, but does pale somewhat in comparison to the two embedded here.

A final awesome thing? Black beans and rice. Ellen makes this all the time, but for some reason I really don't. Tonight I didn't have plain yogurt and cilantro, as she usually does, but I did cook my brown rice with chopped onion, and I added the beans to sauteed garlic, cumin, and other seasonings. I topped it with asiago cheese and it was DIVINE. I realize that this may not sound like much to most people, and that I may appear to be in a rather superlative mood (as perhaps I am) but tonight, maybe because my neighbor and I survived an invigorating six mile run through temperatures in the teens and because I was really hungry, things are awesome. I ate most of a can of olives along with my beans and rice, as well as really delicious Green Mountain Gringo Tortilla Strips. I got two pounds of organic avocados at the co-op yesterday for $4.99, and I wanted to eat those, but they weren't ripe yet.

That's what's called future awesomeness.

*I was going to say "...why Al Gore invented the Internet," but I like Al Gore and the claim that he invented the Internet is a malicious lie (even though it sounds kind of clever).

Tuesday

Last night we had our first major snowfall of the season, so I knew that this morning things would be a little crazy. I intended to get up early and leave early so that I wouldn't have to worry about speed when I would be better served by worrying about not sliding out. I was also supposed to make copies (since my fellow TA was out sick) and pick up the laptop.

However, because I somehow seem to need to sleep nine to eleven hours a night recently, and because I apparently didn't set my alarm correctly, I instead awoke with a start at 9:13, precisely thirty-two minutes before class was to start. I'm a 13 minute ride from school on a good day, if I make all the lights, and, as I mentioned, today there was traffic slush to deal with. I couldn't find a scarf to cover my crazy bedhead, I didn't have time for more makeup than mascara, I had been deep in the middle of dreams minutes before I found myself ski-biking, and I certainly didn't get those copies made.

But I was only a couple of minutes late to class, and the professor for whom I TA was forgiving (walking into the auditorium wearing a bike helmet and a balaclava, with snow to one's knees, helps in these situations). We ended up avoiding copying the handouts by having students write on their own paper. I went to lunch with a friend (curried potato leek soup and a green salad with my favorite creamy vegan dill dressing!). I wrote most of the final exam we'll give our students in a few days. I attended a lecture on the East Bank that, if nothing else, resulted in an interesting discussion on synthetic meat.

And then I went to Grumpy's with friends from the department, where, among other things, I tried, for the first time ever, fried mac 'n' cheese bites. We stayed late, and I talked and laughed to the point of hoarseness, and at the end of the night I received the first cheek kiss I can remember having in a long time. Good times!

Barack Obama

Yesterday was one of the high points of my life.

For months, I had been encouraged by the polls and the palpable enthusiasm indicating increasing support for Obama, but had remained simultaneously terrified by the thought of alternative outcomes. One needn't have been a 2004 Ohio resident to fear both the Republican party's ability to steal an election and the potential for the American public to be hoodwinked and hobbled by divisive messages of fear and hatred (though, as one, I did feel particularly sensitive). Despite data consistently showing Obama ahead, I didn't feel confident.

This week, though, it was hard to hold down the welling excitement and the thrills I'd feel any time I thought about Obama actually being elected. Monday night, it was hard to sleep; it really did feel like Christmas Eve!

Tuesday morning, my neighbor and I headed to the polls later than I'd hoped to, but were still in line by about 7:20. The line was about a block and a half long, and it ended up taking us the better part of two anxious hours to make it in and vote (I had to be to school by 9:45, and she had to teach at 9:55). It was a beautiful morning, though, and we chatted and shared the blueberry muffins I'd brought.

Because my neighbor hadn't changed her voter registration to her(/our) current address, and because her student loan bill turned out not to be a qualifying document, I, as a voter registered in the precinct, got to sign an oath vouching for her. It was exciting and felt very democratic!

I proudly wore my sticker all day, and felt sort of like a member in some huge club as I noticed everyone else's. Membership also earned me a surprisingly good cookie and a surprisingly bad cup of Starbucks (I'd been wanting the Ben and Jerry's, but it was only between 5 and 8)!

I had school obligations until 6, but as soon as I was free I sped home to pick up the French onion soup simmering in the crockpot and a few other dinner supplies and then to a friend's house. We watched CNN's election coverage as we assembled dinner together in her kitchen--the aforementioned soup, pizza, and a beautiful salad. We were still cooking when my friend's partner shouted from the office that it was over and Obama had won; they'd called Pennsylvania. A few minutes later, they called Ohio and we both screamed and jumped up and down. It's been two and a half years since I lived there (and I was only there for two), but I still take Ohio rather personally.

We sat down to eat just as the Daily Show special came on at 9, and it was, naturally, brilliant. And then, then! After only an hour--just minutes after polls closed on the west coast--suddenly, seemingly from nowhere, Jon Stewart turned to the camera and said, "At eleven o'clock at night, Eastern Standard Time, the president of the United States is Barack Obama." Playing that again just now still gives me butterflies.

But it didn't make me cry.

There was shouting and rejoicing, and phone calls, and text messages. My inbox still makes me smile:
10:03 pm, from a friend: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
10:28 pm, from my brother: !
10:49 pm, from my neighbor: Omg!!
10:54 pm, from an Iranian colleague: I'm happy witnessing America saying NO to war, to occupation, & racism

It was McCain's concession speech, weirdly enough, that first made me cry. Maybe it was just the news sinking in, maybe it was the fact that it was the best speech of his campaign, or maybe it was the gracious tone, but it got me. I was angry at and embarrassed by the reaction of the small, bitter, and hopefully non-representative crowd, who clearly didn't even respect McCain enough to be polite, but I admired the speech--and the swiftness with which defeat was conceded.

It was Obama's speech, though, that loosed the floodgates. I've never wept that much at a political speech, nor at live TV, as far as I can remember. The immense relief at his win, the awesome awareness of the history being created and the scope of his achievement, and even pride for my country, seeped right out of my tear ducts and slid down my cheeks. His speech was eloquent, conciliatory, hopeful, but honest about the difficulties we're in.

The Associated Press has called his victory a landslide, but although he won far more electoral votes and a greater percentage of the popular vote than W's 2004 "mandate," Obama didn't gloat or even revel in such a commanding victory. Humbly, rather, and with a heavy awareness of the current state of the country whose leadership he will inherit, he spoke of unity: "...to those Americans whose support I have yet to earn--I may not have won your vote, but I hear your voices, I need your help, and I will be your President too. "

The country has spoken, affirming the desires of the great majority of our global neighbors. We have chosen to move beyond fear and to align ourselves with hope for a better world. We have chosen a president who is brilliant, articulate, thoughtful, and inspirational, one who believes in peace, diplomacy, and surrounding himself with counselors and advisers who are informed, honest, and willing to disagree with him.

I will repeat that I don't believe Obama is flawless, or a mythical savior who will be able to solve all of the very deep and serious problems in which the country finds itself. But I firmly believe he was the right choice for America, and am thoroughly optimistic about his first term. January 20, 2009!

Election

On a friend's laptop...

Waiting for molten chocolate lava cakes to chase our French onion soup and potato pizza...

Still recovering from all the weeping for joy.

Marathon!

Marathon Saturday was impeccable: bright blue, cloudless skies; windless; and a high of 73°.

Marathon Sunday--the actual day of the race--was another story. I woke up to rain dimpling puddles on the street, and although the forecast predicted storms before 8 a.m. and returning later in the afternoon, the heavy gray skies were not encouraging. In the car on the way to the starting line, my friend insisted that it would clear off and be sunny. "I don't know," I said. "I have pretty bad luck." "But I," she responded, "have very good luck!" Then she pointed at her boyfriend driving us, at 7:15 on a Sunday morning, as though that settled it.

As it turned out, however, it was my luck that unfortunately triumphed. At mile three, it began to rain. By mile five, it was coming down in earnest, and somewhere between miles six and seven, the heavens opened and we were completely drenched. It was quite a sight to see the spectators in their hats, coats, and umbrellas, some of them simply shaking their heads in disbelief as we splashed by. It rained hard for another several miles, handily flooding the course, before finally tapering off at around mile 14. (Around mile 21, when we'd finally mostly dried out, we did get another sprinkling that caused me to curse the skies, but it was over fairly quickly.)

Also, it was cold. It was cold enough to see our breath; ahead of us, the column of runners was wreathed in steam. My shoes and socks were soaked, but I still tried to skirt puddles because that water was so much colder than the water already trapped against my skin. When I tried to open my package of Sport Beans, I discovered that my clammy fingers were too numb to be effective, and had to tear it open with my teeth. My running partner, who had discarded her long-sleeved tee early in the race when she started to warm up (and before it started raining), actually snagged from the side of a the trail a discarded and damp sweatshirt that she threw on for warmth.

The coldness issue undoubtedly contributed to our troubles. We stopped twice at aid stations (miles 20 and 23) so that E could be warmed up, and even so she got quite nauseated and had to do a lot of walking from about mile 15 on, and especially after mile 20.

I held up remarkably, for as under-trained as I was, but I was happy to run slowly, take walking breaks, and chat with the volunteers who swaddled her in plastic bags, beach towels, and reflective blankets. It meant that I had the energy to cavort and jump into the air when I saw our friends gathered at mile 19,* to dance when we heard the "Nooma Nooma Song" at mile 20, and to cheer on lethargic spectators further down the line. And it also meant that today, although my quads, calves, abs, and obliques are definitely sore, I feel actually pretty excellent.

I made the mistake at San Diego, two years ago, of pushing Bryant too hard during the race. I had trained hard for that one, and he hadn't. I stayed with him, but I let him see how disappointed and frustrated I was not to finish at the pace I could have. It's a failure I still regret, and I didn't want to make that mistake again.

So. We got soaked; we dried out; we ran slowly; we finished happy! I'm still going to wait a few days to let the muscle soreness calm down and try a short run, but at the moment I'm optimistic about running Phoenix in January. If I do some speed training, maybe--maybe--I can even do that one in under four! We'll see.

One more story. Just before we hit the aid station at mile 23, we were walking through a barricaded-off intersection when a white pick-up came roaring up, the driver leaning on his horn. He rolled down his window and started shouting at the officer standing there that he needed to be let through. The officer and course marshals pleasantly informed him that the road was closed and that he wouldn't be able to get through. He shouted, "Do I have to come out there and move it myself?" to which they responded, "Not if you don't want to spend the night in jail!" He countered, "I'm not spending the night in jail!" They shrugged, and he shouted, "Now are you going to move it for me or do I need to move it myself?" Jumping out of the truck, he stepped to the wooden barricade and moved it aside, still shouting, and the officer leaned into his shoulder mic to call for backup. It looked like the man was going to get back into his truck or walk away, but the officer held out an arm to keep him against the truck, as another three uniformed figures came tearing across the street. I think the driver must have started to run away or resist at that point, because in the next instant, he was under a pile of bodies, apparently still struggling. We had been walking down the course as this all happened, and so getting farther from the action, but it was still quite the adventure! I haven't been able to find any news reports on it, but I assume he did get his trip to jail. I also assume that he was on drugs.

As to whether or not he was any crazier than the runners blocking his way... I couldn't say.

More pictures here:



*Seeing those four friends cheering for us at mile 19 was seriously one of the highlights of my entire life. I don't think I'd ever seen my name on a sign before at a sporting event, and it was incredible--I must have spent the next two miles talking about it, and I know I'll remember it forever. It was more than just feeling like a celebrity, although there was that; it was just a gesture of immense affection. It doesn't make much sense if you haven't been there yourself, but if you do ever have the chance to cheer for a friend at an event like this, I encourage you to make a sign and do it--the return on effort is enormous for the athlete!

The Giftie Gie Us

Last night, a friend started expounding on the differences between the "school" personalities of the people in our department and their personalities outside of school. I think he got onto the subject when one of our classmates, who is very articulate and thoughtful in classes and seminars, returned to the cafe because she had lost her cell phone. This was an event that might be characterized as very typical. "Total scatterbrain," was the first friend's pronouncement.

"So what about me?" I asked. "What do you all think of me, outside of class?"
He paused, and then said, "Do you really want to know?"
"Oh no!" I cried. "It's pure nerd, isn't it? You think I'm a nerd!" (I was prepared to accept this, but still: the truth hurts.)
"No!" he said, and laughed. "You're our Neurotic Little Veggie."

I thought that was brilliant.

Protesting

So David and Erin both asked about the RNC and protesting. I wish I had more to say about that. Blame it on trying to write my prospectus, not wanting to get arrested, or general laziness, though, but all I did was try to spot Republicans downtown Saturday night (they were wearing blazers and lapel pins!); attend the Liberty Parade and concert on Sunday; and participate in Take Back Labor Day on Monday. I'll go ahead and tell you about my limited experience, anyway.

Take Back Labor Day was the only time I was in St. Paul during the convention. We biked over, and traffic wasn't bad at all, until we got close to the Xcel Center. Then it was just weird; they had installed these black cyclone fences around the convention center, and between the sidewalks and the streets. There were cops everywhere, many of them from out of town; I heard people complaining that streets had been inexplicably blocked, and that none of the cops could even give directions of how to get around.

Take Back Labor Day was on Harriet Island, and because they had closed the bridge we wanted to take, we ended up taking the High Bridge over. It was a serious climb (Wikipedia says it's 160' tall), but had plenty of room for bikes, which was nice. On the other side, we took a breather and looked at the city. A mom and about six kids unloaded from a van and shared the view with us; the kids were most excited by the "boats with machine guns on the front"--in fact, the Coast Guard was patrolling the Mississippi.

The event was in a big park right across from the Xcel Center. Security there felt much calmer than on the other side of the bridge; there were a few patrols of people in T-shirts from some security company, but not the hordes of officers we'd just left. There were lots of tents set up with food and different events, but the big attraction was the main stage, where we heard, among others, Tom Morello from Rage Against the Machine, Atmosphere, and Mos Def. The event was primarily about workers' rights, which was a fitting protest to the RNC. We made a lot of noise, and I'm sure Republicans outside the Xcel Center could hear us, although I'm sure it was plenty quiet inside.

My friend and I were taking a look at the tents on our way out when we saw crowds gathered along the riverbank. As we looked, we saw a yacht with a banner that said "Stop Torture," being pursued by probably five Coast Guard boats and two or three smaller sheriff's boats. It was making quick movements and seemed to be outfoxing its pursuers, which we all cheered. Across the bank, I could see a wall of people in black, apparently officers. It looked like there were 50 or 60 of them, and I couldn't figure out what they were doing; protecting the bank in case the yacht's occupants wanted to protest torture on land?

A guy beside me nudged me and said, "Did you see the snipers?" Sure enough; as I looked, I saw two unmistakable figures standing on a building beside the Xcel Center. You can see them in this picture my friend took. It was only later, looking at this guy's photo set on Flickr, that I realized that what we'd been seeing on the other bank was the police surrounding detainees. Creepy.

We left shortly thereafter to head home. As we got back to the High Bridge, however, we were dismayed to see police cars blocking the entrance. An old man watching from the sidewalk told us we'd have to detour to the I-35 bridge, miles away. Thankfully, however, as we watched, we saw that the cops were letting pedestrians and cyclists through. We had the bridge entirely to ourselves! Although I later realized that the closure appeared to be another heavy-handed gesture to control protesters (read: freedom), gliding down that silent bridge, I felt like I was in a dream. I snapped a camera phone picture of what felt like The Future.

Later, as we crossed another bridge into Minneapolis, passing a patrol car and officer on the Saint Paul side, I felt, more than I ever had before, how really separate the two cities are--and it was a relief to be home.

As much as I heart Jon Stewart, I have to respectfully disagree with his characterization of St. Paul as "so much better than Minneapolis. Minneapolis is Danny DeVito to St. Paul's Schwarzenegger." I don't know where he was in each city to come up with that comparison... but I'm glad to live on the right side of the river (the left one).

Riding

People! I just got back from the most incredible bike ride.

I thank you all sincerely for your exam encouragement, in comments on my last post, e-mails, and phone calls. However, I must say that at the moment I'm feeling particularly indebted to Ellen, who this evening e-mailed something along the lines of, "You haven't left the house in three days? You should really ride your bike!"

I only rode about six miles, around the lake and back, but it was fantastic. The fact that I forgot my camera is probably just as well, as I would have been stopping every few feet, and as it couldn't have come close to capturing the evening's splendor anyway. If I could have bottled just this evening's air, or accurately captured only the shadows of the leaves cast on the huge houses around the lake, you'd hardly have believed it. If you had been there, in person, with me, as the evening sun glinted off the kayaks and the cool breeze smelling like warm bark wafted past us, you still wouldn't have believed this evening. That's how amazing it was. A few times a year, I'm convinced that this really is one of the best places on earth to live; tonight was one of them.

When I got home, I had a shirt full of gnats. Funny how a tank top is a perfect scoop when you're leaning over your handlebars.

Now back to work; according to my schedule I'm supposed to finish my first essay tonight. I've written 11.5 pages so far, but am not finished yet. I'm hoping that having finally started squeezing words onto the page my second and third essay will come more easily, but I'm not holding my breath.

Adding slightly to my stress level is the fact that my pointer has started going nuts, traveling slowly or frantically across the screen to lodge in either the lower left or upper right corner. Sometimes I can pry it free and make it work (often by leaning hard on the pointing stick while working the touchpad with my other hand); other times I give up and navigate using the keyboard. Sometimes, for no apparent reason, it behaves normally.

Back to work.

Day eighteen

Breakfast: Puffins with soy milk; gluten-free toast with sugar-free blueberry jam
Brunch: Oatmeal with raisins and soy milk
Starbucks: Decaf, sugar-free, iced vanilla soy latte
Dinner: Butternut squash risotto; salad; popsicle

Today I met the inimitable Erin and Mandy at Cabazon. We spent quite a while at Starbucks just chatting; I mostly grilled Erin about genetics (about which I'm [not quite inexplicably--though it might take a while] reading for my upcoming exams), and she clearly and thoughtfully explained all about DNA and genes and transcription. She knew the material and mechanisms so well, as I explained it to my dad later, that it was like having someone studying calculus explain addition. How great is that?

None of us is much of a shopper, but somehow we did the entire circuit of outlets, and all ended up with a bunch of great stuff. They put in a Banana Republic outlet just last month, and everything there was 40% off. I got a pair of jeans, a pair of slacks, two tops, and a jacket, for $153. Elsewhere, I found a pair of brown flats, argyle socks, a teal button-down sweater, and a sun dress (J. Crew! $24!). I don't remember the last time I bought so many clothes. It was nice to be able to stock up, though, and at such good prices. It's probably too much to hope for not to teach sections next semester, but at least if I do now, I'll have something to wear.

Afterward, we sat around and talked some more. I babbled about my "research," which (thanks to the friends who ask me about it and nod encouragingly when I try to make sense out of the different things I've been studying and want to explore) is starting to take a bit more shape in my mind. Mandy spoke much more elegantly and coherently about therapy and life.

I came home exhausted but glowing. "I like those girls so much!" I exclaimed to my mom. "Ahhh, blog friends," she responded. It's kind of funny to me that they are "blog friends," and that if we didn't have our blogs, we wouldn't know each other. It's more than that, though. Through this whole weird blogosphere-deal, I've met two thoughtful, intelligent women, who can discuss the implications and ethics of eugenics, and then help me pick out which color of top looks best.

I have my doubts about Internet dating (although I know I shouldn't knock it till I've tried it, et cetera), but Internet quality-friend-finding? Yes please.

High

I did two three-mile runs with my dad while I was in California last week--the first, sadly, that I'd done since I was out there over Christmas. During part of the latter trip, I was still recovering from my marathon-induced tibial stress fracture, but although I seemed to be fully healed by the time I left, and had completed a handful of successful runs, the snow and ice out here put a distinct damper on any momentum I might have accumulated in the warm sunshine.

Tonight, however, inspired by 42° (!) highs and running talk earlier in the grad office (at least two of my classmates are very interested in running this year's TCM), I paused only to change my clothes after my bike ride home before heading outside again.

The experience was certainly different from my Californian runs: I wore a hat and several layers, and there were periodic stretches of slush on the sidewalk. My dad's three-mile route is a straight out-and-back in the middle of the desert, but mine here circles through residential areas, along the edge of the (currently still frozen and snowy) lake, and back along the Greenway, where today I saw many fellow runners and bikers.

At about six minutes in, I wasn't sure running my full loop (just shy of 3.5 miles) was a good idea. But, recalling my theory that one should never stop running after just two miles, I kept going.

I'm so glad I did! I soon warmed up nicely, and the music on the Marathonator just kept getting better. By the time I reached the lake, extravagantly white and a clear reminder of just how ridiculous and delightfully crazy we runners circling it were, I was feeling amazing. I've never had a runner's high on a run shorter than seven miles (and they're fairly rare for me, even on longer runs), but I don't know how else to describe my sensation for the next 1/2 a mile or so, as I left the lake and headed onto the Greenway, where the sun at my back cast my long shadow in front of me. I was giddy, ecstatic, euphoric--probably the happiest I've been in Minneapolis this winter.

Maybe it was the release of toxins through my pores, the sun hitting my third eye, or just the welcome and long-overdue sensation of being a human in possession of a still-highly-tuned body good for more than carrying about my fev'red braine, but after a short 35 minutes, I was a renewed woman.

It can be very hard to get back into training after a long hiatus--or, for that matter, to convince oneself it's a good idea to run at all, even in the midst of training. There are reasons why running is good for me--it's a good cardio workout, it improves bone density, it de-flattens my butt--but perhaps the main reason is that it grants me the opportunity for (and the condition from which I can receive) the intense and wonderful ecstatic experiences like this afternoon's.

Once again, running proves itself, I think, an apt metaphor for life. Rainer Maria Rilke, whom I have quoted here before, wrote, "But those tasks that have been entrusted to us are difficult; almost everything serious is difficult; and everything is serious." Running is no exception. It's serious, and therefore difficult. Achieving marathon condition--let alone running the 26.2 miles--is hard. Doing it right requires huge commitment, and extreme dedication of time and resources. For the rare flashes of absolute brilliance, there are hours of suffering.

But I like who I am as a runner--the way my body looks and works, and the confidence that comes with knowing I can (and have) run 26.2 miles. I like the opportunity of getting out of my head for a while--"outrunning the crazies," as a friend put it today. The work it takes to get there is worth it, because of who it makes me--as well, of course, as the persistent joy and occasional ecstasy.

It's an encouraging way, I think, to think about the rest of life--school, relationships, careers, etc. I'm not an advocate of suffering, precisely. But if life is pain anyway, it may as well be worth something, right?

So-Cal Blogger Convention

So because Mandy and Erin are still on the road on their way back home, it looks like I get to blog about today's adventure first! They came out to the desert this morning for brunch (my mom made cinnamon rolls for me, and I had to apologize to the girls that they would never be able to look at ordinary cinnamon rolls the same way ever again), and spent the whole afternoon. We did the hill loop after we ate, as it was beautifully clear and warm--though a bit breezy. Actually, it was so windy we were nearly blown away, but, as Mandy pointed out, it totally made the adventure.

It seems strange to write that it was my first time meeting them in person, although that's actually the case. The fact, though, is that they instantly felt like old friends, and not just because we've been reading each other's blogs for so long. They are both amazingly kind, funny, and intelligent girls (and, my goodness! GORGEOUS!), and they even laughed at my nerdy jokes. We did a lot of laughing (and, for that matter, nerd-ing).

If my blog is good for anything (and I do occasionally wonder), it's for meeting people like these. Awesome.

More hiking

As my dad and I were returning from our run this morning, we saw a swirling vortex of about 20 hawks hovering above the tallest peak in the hills behind their house, the one he and my mom have dubbed "Big Sunday." It was quite the convention, and since we were already sweaty and the day was beautiful (it hit 73 today!), we decided to hike up and check it out. I called Heidi, and she was able to come with us, too.

By the time we got within sight of Big Sunday (at the base, the smaller hills hide the summit from view), the birds were gone, but the views were terrific anyway. It was such a nice day that we just kept going, and hiked the entire loop, which I hadn't done since last Christmas. It was great.

This panorama (click to see the whole thing) includes San Gorgonio, which I haven't climbed but would like to someday:

Between the run and the hike, I was outside for about three hours, and even ended up getting lightly toasted! It will be nice to have a little color to take back to Minneapolis with me, to remind me of these halcyon days (though I'm still here until the 21st and intend to take full advantage of that!).

Another Wednesday sunset

I take these pictures of the endlessly fascinating (to me, anyway!) San Jacinto while standing, usually in socks but occasionally barefoot, on the cement patio table on my parents' porch. Today, although it was a bit hazy, was the first time we'd been able to see the entire mountain in about three days, and it was glorious in the snow that had been falling while the clouds lingered around the summit.

You'd think that after four winters here, even though I head back to the Midwest between each, I would be used to the desert. But I still just can't get over it.

Back to school

Back-to-school shopping is distinctly less inspiring when you're spending your own money, and know your book bill will likely be in the hundreds. Still, this long weekend's purchases do make me feel a bit more enthused for tomorrow's return to campus.

Notebooks and pens: $7.18

Banana Republic denim skirt: $17.99 (originally $68.00)
Banana Republic cotton tank top: $4.99 (originally $18.00)

Banana Republic Premium Denim "skinny jeans": $19.99 (originally $128.00)

Airwalk Mary Janes: $19.99

American Eagle Mary Janes: $8.99 (50% off after I bought the pair above)

Starting my second year of classes in the state that hosts this fair: Priceless

The State Fair pictures were taken with the Spycam, which I unfortunately set to the low-res option--and then characteristically dropped several hours into the fair, resulting in the loss of all pictures up to that point. Those included pictures of us eating Australian battered potatoes, Scotch egg on a stick, strawberry rhubarb malted milkshake, deep-fried cheese curds, and honeybee ice cream,* as well as pictures of the amazing seed art, the rather disturbing Miracle of Birth Center, and Pretty Ricky, the state's largest boar. The photos here do include the pork chop on a stick, corndog on a stick, pickle on a stick, and (middle row, far left) the Vikings fan who amicably and drunkenly insisted, for at least five very loud minutes, that Ed looked just like Kevin Trudeau, of whom none of us had ever heard.

Although we were both here last summer, neither Ed (a Chicagoan) nor I had ever visited the fair, and we were fortunate to have Sara, a native who grew up on a dairy farm, as a tour guide. Mostly, she pointed us to her favorite fair foods and kept telling us that there was more to see. We never did get to all of it.

* Fear not: no bees were included.

"Now face north..."

Miles run: 15
Bottles of Gatorade stashed strategically along the trail: 3
Temperature: 46-52 F (but felt warmer; I was in shorts, though chilly at times)
Cloud cover: 5%
New songs uploaded to the Marathonator: 71*
Time: 2:48
Overall mile pace (unadjusted): 11.2

Getting to run outside in an Ohio spring: priceless

*Albums heard during the run: Klaralynn's 80s Dance Mix; Men Without Hats Collection; and Get the Power: Rocking, Wrestling, and Rapping

Pretty much the best cucumber sandwich ever

Ingredients:

BrownBerry Natural Health Nut bagel, split

Philadelphia Neufchatel cheese (I really don't care that it has less fat; it's easier to spread than cream cheese)

Sliced English cucumber (long and narrow, with less seeds)

McCormick Vegetable Supreme seasoning

Seasoning tops the cucumber tops the cheese tops the bagel.

Fiber: ~6 grams
Calories: ~300
Getting to eat lunch after four hours in the ARC dungeon: priceless