And Now I Have a Stinky Cold

The DD has had a runny nose for days, but I thought I had escaped it. No such luck. I thought the sneezing and nose-blowing was just my allergies, but now it's clear she has gifted me her germs. Maybe that explains the sucky run. It's an honourable theory. But how will I run tomorrow???

A Sucky Run

I just came back from the fitness centre: I ran 1.64 miles in 22 minutes at 10:1. Unless I was actually in a coma and standing still for about 3 minutes, I don't see how that is possible. I will freely admit I felt like a lumbering walrus today, especially since my allergies are quite bad, but I'm starting to wonder if I need to invest in a new pedometer. Maybe I've dropped this one a few too many times? It's given me some highly strange readings lately (like .06 of a mile after a 15 minute walk). Anyway, I hope it's the pedometer, because I am damned annoyed with myself for such a pathetic time. I thought I was running "slow and steady", not "slow and standing still".

Walked Today

I just came back from an 18-min. walk. The pedometer wasn't working properly, so I can only estimate it at about 1 mile and a quarter. I went for a walk on Tuesday night, but it was so cold that I gave up after about 10 minutes. I'm planning to just walk a couple of more times this week and hope to run again on Sunday.

Current Music: Will Smith's "I Wish I Made That/Swagga" (Lost and Found)

Oscar Nominations

Yes, the Oscars are a crock, and it's really all about the dresses, but I've watched them every year as long as I can remember, and I'm not going to stop now, no matter how depressing it is.

Once, I actually went to movies. Then I had a kid. My husband and I have noted over the years that the movies we've actually seen has dwindled over the last eight years to zilch -- until they opened up the animated category. And then -- yee haw -- we were in the know again! :smirk:

So this year I took a look at the list and, sure enough, I've seen a whopping 3 films: Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest, Happy Feet, and The Good German. Two out of three are "family" films. And because I live in a cinematic hinterland, I had to go to somewhat illicit lengths to see Soderbergh's black & white '40s homage, The Good German (which has been sorely underrated by the reviewers).

Still At It

Despite achy legs, I managed 4.36 miles (in 25 minutes) on a recumbent stationary bike.

We finished watching the ninth episode of Rome tonight. I practically shout, "No!" when each episode ends, so caught up in it am I. It's fascinating, gripping stuff.

Back on My Feet Again

I am jubilant, having finally gone for a run for the first time (I am ashamed to say) since 12 December. I got myself into a slump where I was afraid I would be a total loser and run badly when I got back to it. I don't know why I play these negative psychological games with myself, except to say that my fear of failure can paralyse me. But I finally got off my ever-widening-post-Christmas duff (not the figgy kind) and went to the fitness centre this morning. I ran 2.19 miles. I think it was around 23 minutes, doing 10:1, but I had to pause in the middle to try to figure out the Ipod I was given for Christmas and lost track of how many minutes I wasted there. Still, not bad, and I really enjoyed it, even if my legs are jelly!

Migraine Day

Spent yesterday felled by the worst migraine I've had in ages. As usual it began with my waking up with a headache that just wouldn't go away, despite taking several Advil. It still hadn't gone away, but I foolishly decided to ignore it; instead, I went to a bookstore to buy a birthday present for my friend B. In the store, however, I started to feel mildly nauseous and my face began to go numb. I had a few minutes when I thought I wouldn't be able to drive home, but I managed it OK. Went to bed at 4:15 and slept for three hours after taking more Advil and a Gravol. Got up, feeling much better, made some toast, watched two hours of the first season of Rome, went back to bed, and slept from 11:30 to 8:45. I should know better. When I get a migraine, it's my body's way of saying, "Stop now, no, I mean right now, and go to bed." I just wish I knew why I got the migraine.

Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time series/LakeBoat

Just finished New Spring, the "prequel" to The Wheel of Time series by Robert Jordan. I was concerned that, after ten hefty books in the series, the last of which I read over two years ago, I wouldn't be able to remember enough of the plot or characters for it to make any sense. Just to make matters worse, in many ways, I've been reading Terry Goodkind fantasy series as well, which is an utter knock-off of Jordan's. So I was expecting to be horribly confused.

When I originally started reading the two series, I started off with Goodkind's only to be directed to Jordan by my father-in-law (thanks, Jim!). At first, I was entranced by Goodkind's humour and lighter tone. By contrast, Jordan's seemed heavy and almost pompous. Now, upteen years later, their roles have apparently reversed. Jordan is having fun, and Goodkind has turned into a pompous neo-Republican windbag who intersperses his once-enjoyable books with right-wing tirades. Who knew Richard would turn into such a bore (which is far worse than being a Republican, to my mind)?

I'm starting the eleventh Wheel of Time book, Knife of Dreams, this morning. Reading the prequel has at least begun to reseparate in my mind the Aes Sedai vs the Sisters of the Light and all the other similarities between the books. I notice, however, that Jordan's paperbacks don't give any plot summary on their back cover. At around 800 pages each, they can't!

Last night we sat down to watch the film of David Mamet's play LakeBoat, directed by Joe Mantegna (2000). (I had picked it up because I'm a Denis Leary fan, and he has a role in it. ) It was low on plot, but the dialogue was interesting. Set on a Great Lakes freighter, not much happens. The viewer just watches as the passive main character, based on Mamet's younger self, encounters various "lifers" on the boat and listens to their anecdotes. There were some nice performances, particularly from Robert Forster, George Wendt, and a William H. Macy lookalike, Jack Wallace, but I was too aware that I was watching a filmed play. Mantegna had done nothing besides film it on location to remove the staginess of the text. I'm not trying to suggest I wasted 98 minutes, but, despite Mantegna's obvious gifts as an actor, I think in the hands of a more adept director it might have been more interesting.

Current music: Bonnie Raitt's "Cool Clear Water" (Longing in Their Hearts)
Current reading: Robert Jordan's Knife of Dreams (2005)

Blondie Redux

Blonde again. After a week of seeing a stranger in the mirror, I went to another hairdresser and got her to put in blonde and copper highlights to return my hair to its former golden tone.

Off to buy the DD a new dance leotard because her old one migrated elsewhere over Christmas holidays. Ballet class is tonight, so I have to get off my duff and head up to the dance store now.

No Rest for the Wicked

As my husband left for work this morning at his usual hour, I thought about the time he got home last night. Doing the math, I realised he works 10 hour days, frequently without lunch. My own job is more cyclic, with peaks at the end of each semester that start climbing about six weeks in. I work at home as much as at the office, so it's harder to calculate how many hours exactly, plus it's variable. But what I do know is that we're tired, very tired.

A New Church ... Oy

Today we decided to try out Sunday at the local cathedral. In the past year, there has been an influx there of various friends of ours and it had been recommended to us by them as a place where we might feel spiritually comfortable. So off we trekked in the kind of temperatures that usually result in a congregation of only the elderly and infirm. The former bishop took the service and everything was entirely satisfactory, although I found the liturgical tunes, being different, a bit wonky and hard to follow.

After service, however, the church school coordinator rushed up to tell us that our offspring is of an age at which the children are encouraged to become servers, in order to "feel a sense of ownership in the service". Fine, good. I will mention that to the sprog. Oh, think I, this isn't optional, is it? And they want one parent down in the church school with their children during Sunday school. I start to feel my heart sink. Great, now I can sit by myself in church or spend it in Sunday school. Neither was what I planned on. I go to church so I can attend the service, oddly enough.

So, I return from church with my back up slightly already, already alert for signs of being "sucked in". I am unwilling to get roped into something I don't want to participate in, and if anyone tries to dragoon me into teaching Sunday school I will disappear more quickly than any of them might have believed humanly possible. We were constantly being pestered to participate in everything at our last church, and, after experiencing "church burn-out" the last time, we are determined to take things at our pace this time. At our last parish, we knew personally what it felt like to be stared at by vampires who lust after "new blood". Our work lives and home lives are busy enough. We want to go to church, but not if it ends up being yet another obligation in our busy lives. My obligation is to that which I feel obliged to do at this stage in my life, not what others think it should be. I know what I am capable of right now. In ten years it will be different; indeed, in ten months it might be different. But right now, just going to church is enough without being asked to prop the institution up as well.

Balmy Saskatchewan

Woo hoo! Only -27 here this morning! With an expected high of -24! Out with the barbecue and the coolers! Not.

What's "Freaking Cold" in Fahrenheit?

Randy Newman said it best: "Only a man half-blind on whiskey would make this place his home." Yes, he was singing about Saskatchewan. (I'm not kidding - listen to his rock opera of Faust.) Clifford Sifton has a lot to answer for. I hope, when they were encouraging everyone to come out here, they were honest about the weather conditions. ("Note to Doukhobors: wear coats.")

Pioneer scene:
Lennart and Maj are building their soddi. It is -32C, -46 with windchill.

Lennart: Ve must move faster, Maj. Oddervise ve vill be cold. Hand me dat sod.
Maj (grumbling): Vy didn't I marry Bergren ven he asked me?
Lennart: Because he liked your sister better. Keep building.
Maj: Have you seen little Nils?
Lennart: Ja, he is playing in da snowbank. I told him to pick up his fingers if dey fall off. No point vasting perfectly goot fingers.
Maj: Ve are not having finger stew again! Already little Signe vill never learn to knit. Build faster so ve can go inside.
Lennart: Dis vill be da most beautiful soddi in Saskatchewan. In spring I put gingerbread trim on it.
Maj: Yu have gingerbread? Yu didn't tell me!
Lennart: Before ve sleep tonight in our beautiful soddi, ve say a prayer to bless Herr Sifton for giving us dis land.
Maj: I don't know, Lennart. I tink ve write a letter and mention there's no [insert Swedish curse word here] firewood. Anyvere.
Lennart: See? Now you know vy Bergren married your sister! She is not so negative. I see vide open spaces. Yu see "no trees". Alvays da complaining.
Maj: Alvays da cold. [pause] Yu know, Lennart, yu are a lucky man ve had Nils and Signe before ve left home.

Weekly Weigh-in (post Smokie's)

Weekly weigh in: 161.

I knew it would be bad after a week of no exercise (haven't worked up the courage yet, and the elves were preventing me) and a repast at the home of mega-protein and carbs last night.

Smokin' Okie's

Tonight we had dinner at a new BBQ joint in town called Smokin' Okie's. The DH is seriously into the whole BBQ/smoking thing, or "channelling his inner bubba", as he refers to it. The restaurant had a huge red smoker built in Mesquite, Texas, and the smell of smoked pork and all things yummy had our mouths watering. I had pork ribs, and the DH had back ribs, with smoked (baked) potatoes and corn or cole slaw (though other side dishes were available too). The DH makes outstanding smoked ribs, but these ones were definitely competition: tender and moist, and delicious... I could see him continually glancing over to the giant smoker with the gaze of an addict: "I wonder how much I could smoke in there... I wonder if he'd let me look inside...I wonder how much that would cost, and would it fit on the deck...?" After a while I had to snap him out of it and remind him he already has a sizeable smoker brought north to Saskatchewan from North Carolina just for him (courtesy of me). I think Nicole Kidman has just been replaced.

On another note, I finished Kostova's The Historian last night -- what a tremendous book. I would love it if she wrote another featuring the Order of the Crescent and its members' determination to exterminate all vampires, but I have a feeling Kostova isn't a sequel sort of writer. I was quite gripped by the action-packed ending.

Current reading: Robert Jordan's New Spring (2004)

The Inadvertent Brunette

I am now a brunette as of 11:00 this morning. It wasn't quite what I had planned. I told the interim hairdresser (my regular one just had a baby last week) that my hairdresser usually used a bit of caramel in with the blonde. I watched some brown goo go on my head. The hairdresser said, "Don't worry. It will be blonde." I've seen purple goo go on my head and it still turned out blonde, so I thought: OK, you're the expert. Apparently, her idea of caramel is more of a reddish-brown. It doesn't look dreadful, but I am having a little trouble adjusting to my new self. Interestingly, however, it's almost an exact duplication of my daughter's hair colour. I can be a blonde again in late February, I guess.

January will have to be my month for testing out my inner brunette. So far, my inner brunette is grouchy and worried she looks older than the "look-there's-the-rest-of-my-life-way-down-at-the-bottom-of-this-hill" 45 she will be next month.

Evil Elves

Can't. Blog. Today. (ouch)
Little elves are doing macrame with my fallopian tubes. If those little bastards make another planter hanger, I will be seriously pissed off.

New Year, New Blog Style

I like a little change now and then, so I decided to spice up the blog with a new look.

I've been meaning to write a little something about Kostova's The Historian, but despite being half way through I was feeling uncertain about where it was going. I want to wait until I'm done to comment on it, since it is complex and has several threads to pull together. Finally, over 400 pages in (400 very entertaining pages, I must add) I can see where things are headed, but you have to get to the section involving Bartolomeo Rossi's epistolary accounts of his explorations in Romania before the pieces of the puzzle start coming together (for me, at least -- admittedly, I may be a little slow on the uptake...). The book is beautifully written, too, so it's a pleasure to read.

Classes start at the university tomorrow. I am optimistic that this will be a better term. C's illness and death put such a pall over everything last year, that I am hopeful that I can move on and begin to give more back to my work. I'm doing several new poems and a new novella in my classes. That should keep me busy.

I have to pick up my running again this week, which has languished in a sugar-induced Christmas slump. Weekly weigh-in entries have been deliberately and conspicuously absent, yes? Hey, I have PMS bloat, post-Christmas bulge, and I'm crabby about it. Give me a break. No one wants to weigh themselves when they're retaining more water than the Hoover Dam.

Charlotte's Web

After restocking the kitchen for the first time in weeks, I took the DD to see Charlotte's Web. That pig was so cute! We've read the book and seen the animated film, so our expectations were high, and it was indeed a lovely little film. I particularly liked the charming graphics in the opening and closing credits and Dakota Fanning is a wonderful child actress. It's probably just PMS gone haywire but I actually shed a tear when Charlotte the spider expired...

Current music: Emmylou Harris and Roy Orbison's duet, "That Lovin' You Feelin' Again" (from Duets)

ILoveYouILoveYouILoveYouPurrPurrPurrr

Not much sleep last night. The fat cat sat not merely on my pillow but on my head all night long. He glommed onto me like he would never let me go. I think he would have crawled into my skin if he could have. I am a suck and didn't punt him off the bed, though, so I have no one to blame but myself. He just loves me to death, and that kind of thing is hard to resist. So this morning I have bags under my eyes (always an attractive fashion accessory) and the word "kitty suck" tattooed on my forehead...

Happy New Year

Just got back this evening from Ontario -- one of the best trips to visit my parents I've ever had. A little tearful leaving, as usual, but it's nice too to get back to one's own little bed. Rang in the New Year drinking champagne and watching one of my favourite movies, Flight of the Phoenix (the new version). I'm exhausted, but unable to sleep, having consumed way too much caffeine on the journey home, but I'm having a lovely time listening to my fat cat purring ecstatically on my pillow. He's terribly glad the mama cat is home...Yawn. Must try to sleep now...

Current reading: Elizabeth Kostova's The Historian (2005)