Gulp

I just read that the Equinox Marathon is one of America's toughest marathons.

I see.

Well, this should be interesting.

The Simple Task That Was My Charge

This weekend, I was the officiant in the wedding of two of our friends.

They prepared the ceremony script for me, so it was quite simple.

Public speaking, really.

Except, I failed to notice that all the guests were standing after the bride's father gave her away.

And they kept standing.

And I kept failing to notice throughout the rest of the ceremony.

So the reception involved me answering questions about whether I *intended* everyone to stand throughout the entire ceremony.

Ummm... No.

I did not.

Many apologies were made by me.  I was embarrassed.  And sad.  But happy about everything else in the wedding, which was absolutely perfect:

A magazine spread ready bride and groom in a perfect venue.  Taiko drummers.  A san-san-kudo ceremony.  100 guest-lighted lanterns sailing off into the night sky.  Dancing.  Eating and drinking.  A maid of honor who *sang* her toast.  They even added a very thoughtful birthday cupcake presentation for me coupled with all of the guests singing happy birthday.

At the end of the night, one of the close family friends said to me, "Something goes wrong at every wedding.  You did them a favor by making it something so minor, so early."

What a wonderful thing to say!  Thanks!

I shall strive to offer similar words of comfort to another at some point when it is apparent that they are struggling with disappointment at their own failure.

California Dream Runs

My cousin was married at the self-proclaimed "World's Most Beautiful Zoo" this weekend.



After the wedding ceremony, all of the guests were invited to feed the giraffes! (check out that tongue!!!)



So, yeah, you can add "licked by a giraffe" to the experiences I've shared with my siblings, first cousins, and niece. Cool!

In addition to the pleasure of feeding a giraffe, the travel commitment meant that the day of the wedding, I was able to run a loop from our hotel, through a canyon, under fog and mist, up a cliff, and out to a shoreline park trail, past crashing waves on one of the most gorgeous beaches in the world, and finally, a recovery jog/walk up one of the more posh and fascinating shopping scenes I've ever seen (State St).

California is a gloriously beautiful state and to enjoy it on a run in perfect weather is one of the greatest pleasures I have known.

The morning after the wedding was equally awesome (after the wedding, E & I bid the 20-somethings goodbye from the last shuttle bus as they headed out to dance 'til dawn and we prided ourselves on our late wedding partying - I mean, we took the last bus and because I packed flip-flops, I left my heels at the venue, that has to count for some sort of mid-30's coolness, right?). I woke after what felt like sleeping in, and I headed out to the deserted paved path along the beach (nothing like a party town to make you feel like you wake early). I did speed intervals in the overcast cool temperatures, grateful for the sound of the crashing waves and a reprieve from the direct sun I get at home. I finished, happy with the fast tempo, and treated myself to my favorite post-run ritual of bare feet in the cold ocean, where I try to relax and metaphorically let the receding waves take everything I should release.

Last night, thanks to business obligations in Los Angeles, we had a fabulous date night in Santa Monica including sunset dinner at The Lobster and a wonderful room with awesome views at Ocean and Vine:



Today, I had the privilege of a short run along the paved beach path in Santa Monica and Venice where I pushed the pace and enjoyed the shared commitment to fitness.

You know, like this:


(In other news, while I opted out of the tightrope, this AM, I confirmed that I can still *barely* do a pull-up. This was a relief to me after a failed attempt on the shuttle bus post-rehearsal dinner, perhaps after too many drinks and while the bus was driving...)

Tomorrow, I'm planning to run to the Hollywood sign.

All in all, this picturesque SoCal interlude has treated me to some fabulous runs and I can't help but feel extra grateful to live in such a beautiful state with a commitment to its environment and making the beauty available to all of its citizens.

Purging

Over the years I've gotten pretty good at getting rid of and avoiding the acquisition of what I call "stuff."

I don't enjoy shopping, so I rarely acquire new material possessions.  E & I have essentially the same furniture that we've had since we met, in 2000.  I mean, we live in Silicon Valley and both work in technology-related careers, yet this is what passes for an entertainment center in our house:



(Why yes, that is a 38" CRT and an HDTV antenna to send signals to the free converter box from the gubment to convert those over-the-air HD signals to NTSC).

I make a pile to go to GoodWill so regularly that the pile has its own dedicated corner in the house despite my general hatred for clutter.

I enjoy the act of purging "stuff."  I never feel guilty or wasteful for getting rid of something that still has use.  In fact, I feel freer, happier.   The later thoughts of "didn't I used to have a...." never cause me to regret my decisions.  They just make me smile.

Yes, yes, I did used to have that thing.  But I don't have it now.  How wonderful.  Space!

But Ideas?  Goals?  Books? Pictures or videos of memories? For me, these things are not "stuff."

I collect them.  I hold on to them long past their useful life.  I grow unreasonably attached to them.

So I have boxes and boxes of photos.  And shelves and shelves of books.  And lists all over the house full of things that are unlikely to ever be achieved.  We even have a VCR and videotapes of memories from childhood (see above) that have survived my otherwise strict regular purging policy.

I also have an unreasonable attachment to the idea of *finishing* books.

Prior to today, I've only given up and agreed not to finish one book: Ulysses back in my early 20s.  Because of its stature in the literary world, and the fact that I just could not get myself to enjoy it, I finally admitted that I just wasn't "getting it" and thus it would be a waste of time to finish it.  Too many characters and complexities for me, thanks.  Perhaps one day I will return to it, but I doubt it.  There are more books in the world than I could read in my lifetime, so it seems unlikely that I'll go back to one I didn't like rather than try a new one (to me) that might.

But other than Ulysses, historically, if I start a book, I finish it.  And, I usually only read one pleasure book at a time (I'm mid-way through several educational books at the moment, on law, Chinese characters, etc. but I don't consider them part of my reading for fun habit -- I won't curl up on the couch with them or cuddle up with them in bed).

So, imagine my surprise when I admitted yesterday that despite absolutely adoring Anathem and REAMDE, I just couldn't bring myself to read another page of Quicksilver.  I slowed my typically page-ripping pace as soon as I started this one.  I'd been reading along at approximately 1,000 pages a month this year, and then, from May until now, I've been struggling to get through a handful of pages in any sitting. 

Yesterday, after yet another fitful few pages, I realized I was only on page 361 of 962!  And I'd bought or borrowed the whole Baroque Cycle Trilogy!

So, I had a chat with myself and admitted that I needed to make some more space in my thoughts, just like I need to constantly make more space in my physical life.

Not only am I not going to finish this book, I'm not going to finish the whole trilogy! Instead, I am going to go through my books, make a pile of books to sell to the used bookstore, and include the two books in the trilogy I bought. (I'll return the third one I borrowed back to metamatt.)

Oh, and while I'm at it, I'm going to admit that I'm also really struggling with River Horse.  It was a lovely gift from Arvay, and it's a treat.  But it's *so* *slow* that I actually agreed to cheat on it and start Quicksilver.  And look where that got me!

So, I'm going to follow several of the comments on GoodReads and relegate it to bathroom reading -- it's reassuring to learn that some folks took 4 years to get through this one.  I like it enough to finish it over the course of 4 years.  

And with that, I'm at 6,103 pages for the year and ready and excited to start a *new* pleasure book.

Inching towards a very hilly 26.2

This week, I finally pushed my mileage above 30 miles per week for the first time in 2012.

For my long run, I headed out to join H for a repeat of the hilly Sand Hill/Alpine loop with some additional out and back hills tacked on for good measure.

8 minutes faster than last time, overall, from beginning to end, including all stops and walking.  (Essentially, I kept roughly the same average pace as last time, but was actually faster in the running portions due to adding a bit more walking, plus I eliminated one of the stops/rests I took last time to buy beverages and cool off).

The first 4 miles (with some of the steepest hills) were noticeably easier than last time.  Also, I was able to hang with H (who's in *much* better shape than me) 'til 11 miles instead of 8, so I counted that as an improvement as well.

There's about 1300 ft of ascent and 1300 ft of descent on this loop.  So it's decent hill training and I'll definitely return to it a few more times for the benefits it offers.  But, when I look at the Equinox Marathon Profile, it becomes very apparent to me that I need to find some bigger hills if I don't want to die of quad pain on the day of the race...

Wish me luck...

P.S. yes, I realize my last blog post ranted about work-out regimes as an annoying default topic of conversation for women in my social cohort, and then I promptly posted about my running life.  

For clarity, I am more than happy to talk about working out for its own sake as a small subset of a general social conversation.  I really enjoy learning about what different people do to treat their bodies to some physical stress and strain in exchange for all of the myriad benefits.

I just really get uncomfortable when what I thought was a fact-based conversation around someone's work-out regime evolves into a weird competition, or judgment-laden topic, or, my least favorite, an entry into the Bermuda triangle conversation storm around cellulite, fat, size, and body image issues.  

Why is it that many women (and some men) can't live and let live when it comes to topics of nutrition, working out, etc?  I just don't understand why the reality that what works for one person may not work for everyone else is so hard to comprehend and accept.

Rant

Celebrities (usually with lots of judgment).

Cleanses (the more details of the dietary sacrifices made and physiological effects, the better).

Diet details (again, the more details the better).

Work-out programs (say it with me now, the more details the better).

Feeling fat, out of shape, or otherwise bad about and ridiculously concerned about one's appearance (aka body-dysmorphia).

Suffice it to say, I am severely disappointed with what are considered the default acceptable topics of conversation among women in my social cohort with whom I don't share some other obvious common conversation topics (children, as I've mentioned, leaves me feeling a little left out, however, they are actually much more entertaining and fascinating to me than the standard default female discussion topics.)

I mean, really.  Was I at a party this weekend where the dudes branched off to go troubleshoot a broken two-stroke engine and the women talked about diets and feeling fat for part of the separated time?

Yes.  Yes, I was.

Happy Independence Day!  (In fairness, the rest of the women-only conversation was scintillating and wonderful.)

But, I am sad about the state of women in America.  Why do we default to discussions that assume the value attached to female attractiveness and the maintenance thereof is all-important?

And I am especially sad because I am often hated by women who don't know me, simply because when they meet me, I speak with confidence and brush off the standard topics (like a guy, I've been told, more than once), which apparently makes me (one of my least favorite words) a "bitch."

Ladies.  We can do better, and we'd all be happier.  Seriously.

Come to the party ready to talk about what you love and feel like it's worth talking about.  I'm fairly certain that even if you love celebrities, cleanses, diets, and/or your work out, you also love something else in your life that's cool and just as interesting as a failing two-stroke engine.

And, if my prior rants about kids scared you off?  Please.  I would so much rather talk about your kids than celebrities, or cleanses, or diets, or body-dysmorphia.  Let's talk about them.  Please.

I guess this rant is a request to expand the acceptable default conversation topics for women who don't know each other.  We are smart.  We are interesting.  We can talk about all sorts of things.  Let's do that!

Bittersweet

June 30th.  A rough time for a transactional attorney.

This AM, after a long work day yesterday to cap off an even longer work week (and too much wine last night to celebrate the end of the quarter), I woke, went for a run while listening to mandarin lessons, and then hopped in the car for a 3 hour drive to a family wedding-related event.

With traffic, it was 3.5 hours.

But, thanks to E's offer to be the driver, the delay didn't bother me, I took advantage of the time.  I marked up a contract, I composed emails, I finalized time sheets for the month.  Eventually, with 45 minutes to spare before arriving at my cousin's bridal shower, I looked up, with the "must do" work finally done, shut my computer, looked out at the laborers in the fields of the California central valley and almost started to cry.

It's June 30th.  The end of the quarter.  Tomorrow, things will be easier.  Lighter.  Less stressful. This is true every end of the fiscal quarter for me.  But, I do not manage the stress as well as I could or should.  And, in the grand scheme of things, my life is *not* stressful.  The laborers could not have made this more clear.

Which just made me want to cry more.

I needed a stress release, but I also needed to hold it together, at least 'til after the bridal shower.

So I did.  And now I'm here, sitting on a balcony, replying to the 20 emails that came in during the bridal shower and watching the sun set over the pacific ocean at a lovely beachside hotel.

When I was a kid, I dreamed of being the person who could splurge on the balcony view over the ocean room.  I never guessed I'd be there one day because I was too busy to book a room until all that was left were the expensive ones.  And I definitely never thought I'd be here because I needed to work and I wanted to visit my aging gran, but because AM visits are much better for her, I needed to stay the night after the bridal shower unless I wanted to get on the road at 5 AM and do a pre-bridal shower visit (which, if I'm honest was not happening with me alone, much less with E as a driver and companion).

So yeah, I finally hit one of the goals I set in my innocence as a kid, I can actually afford and justify staying in the hotel room with the balcony and a view at the beach near my dad's hometown.

I thought that was success, a long, long time ago.

But it's not remotely why or how I imagined.

I'm not complaining.  It's awesome.  It's just completely different than I thought.

In short, it's bittersweet.

Garmin: It's a Love-Hate Thing

Oh, I love data.

But man, do I hate being a slave to data.  I want it on my terms. 

So, oh, yeah, when my Forerunner 405 gave up the batterial ghost, those were tough times.

But now, I've sucked it up.  I finally splurged on a Garmin Forerunner 610 and it's been 48 hours of effort and reading and searching and uploading updates and calling the tech support folks who are trying to coach me by text but finally give in (Garmin tech support, by the way, is much, much better, than my last adventure with them a few years ago, when there was essentially none.  They now have phone support, and they are nice!)

After 48 hours of fighting to make it work, the Garmin is totally up to date with what happened this AM, but it won't sync, and won't acknowledge the routes we've done this evening, in other words, it won't own up to the work I've done...

So, I feel betrayed.  I'm really not a fan of the reliability of Garmin products.  My first 205 lasted 2+ years.  My second one the same.  My 405 lasted just a little over a year and in protest I ran without a GPS watch for several months.  But, finally, as I mentioned, I'm getting back into running more seriously. So I need my data!

I spent much of today on-line with their awesome (much improved) help desk.  I've re-installed every driver, I've re-associated every device, I've tried alternate browsers and I've re-installed every piece of software, and I've re-booted at least 5 times.

At the end of the day, after much struggling I'm sure it'll end up just fine.  All of my data in Garmin Connect and my watch working as expected.

In the meantime, I have weekend plans and holiday plans for the 4th!

Also, I spent my last 36 hours migrating Exchange 2007 - 2010 (which was much more labor intensive than the Garmin, but less frustrating as I don't have to deal with it on a daily basis).  So at BBQ, a subset of us discussed how it is possible that the electronic age has not brought net benefits to us... interesting polite BBQ talk in the middle of Silicon Valley, no?

But, really, the important part is...my email is finally migrated (fingers crossed) and my Garmin still has all the data, it's just a matter of extracting it.

Viva (Data)!

Getting Back in the Swing of Things

Sunday, I headed out for a hilly loop of 13 miles with H.

It's been a long time since I tried to do a true long run, much less one with serious hills.

It was a beautiful day and I finished.  I also bid H farewell around mile 8 when it became glaringly apparent that I was just much too slow for her.

Year to date, I'm at about 515 miles.

Last year, I did 1659 miles, total.  So,yeah, I've been slacking.

But, I've got 2 marathons in the pipeline (Equinox and CIM), so this weekend's ass-kicking was exactly what the doctor ordered. I took a few walk breaks, and I erred on the side of slow and steady, but at the end of the day, I'm back in distance runner mode.

Apologies (to my 13 loyal readers as well as randoms) in advance for the likely increased frequency of boring running posts.

Niece Week 2012 -- Success

She's 10, going on being a teenager.  It's scary to realize how fast she's grown up.  And yet it's easy to understand, visually, as she's grown 3 inches since her last visit and now she wears my shoe size (which she enjoyed to no end).

I'm also so proud of her and just love her so much.

The fun part is how she internalizes everything we strive to share with her.

She proudly informed me at the rocket launch at Moffett Field on Saturday that she had to be patient with some of the kids because, this was her *5th* time setting off rockets and many of the other kids had never done it before.  Ahhh.... a rocket expert, how could we not love her? 

Only a few hours before the end of her visit, she reminded me that I'd promised to pay her for watching/playing with a friend's child one of the evenings of her visit.  I explained that we'd have to negotiate her pay and it was such fun to watch her little brain grow with the idea that when someone is paying you, it is a 2-way discussion.  I made her pick hourly rates, do the multiplication, and then assess whether it was a fair price for me and for her.  She did well, and we arrived on a totally reasonable $15 for 2.5 hours. (It didn't hurt that Uncle Rocket was coaching her on the side, "She does this for a living... start high!")

But it was the subtle internalizations that were the best.  I overheard her telling my mom (who came to pick her up) "I went to Auntie's Mandarin lessons.  I learned to say, "Dui" (correct), "Xiexie" (thanks), and "haochi" (good food).

Early in her visit, I decided that while doing Mad Libs before bed (our standard pre-bedtime activity),  I would only use words I also knew in Mandarin and I'd tell them to her and let her repeat.  She was a quick study and quickly learned to differentiate the tones.

In fact, she made me bust out laughing when she said, "Level 3 sounds like you are puking... Haaaaaaooooouuuu" (complete with gestures).  

This is hilarious because: a) she thinks of the tones as levels, like on a video game; and b) she's right, 3rd tone does sort of sound like gastrointestinal distress.

There are a million other adorable things she said as well as a couple less adorable attitude pre-quels for the teenager she is likely to become.

But, overall, I'm so happy she was able to come stay with us and I'm so thankful she has parents who are willing to let her come.

Also, for the record, I got *much* less work done than normal last week (turns out, Mad-Libs, teethbrushing, boundary setting, supervising clothes-laying-out and lunch-packing, and general kid time mean I can't work even close to my normal hours).  In other words, I'm in awe of lawyers with full-time children.

Why Women Still Can't Have It All

This Article is brilliant.

Yes, the majority of her analysis and discussion centers around women, careers, and balancing a family and how to raise children.

And yes, I've mentioned in the past that opting out of the child-rearing often leaves me feeling left out.

But, I've personally observed many of the realities Ms. Slaughter discusses in this article and I'm so pleased that she has brought them to the forefront of the conversation.

Much of my decision not to have children revolves around the reality that I just don't want to make the very real sacrifices that mothers have to make.  To pretend these sacrifices don't exist is to fail to support the mothers (and fathers) making them.

No one can have it all.  Our time is limited and our life is defined by the choices we make about what to do with our limited time.

Mid-Year Mandarin Check In

Amongst other things, one of my New Year's Resolutions for 2012 was to study Mandarin.

From the start this has been the most enjoyable of all of the goals I set for myself this year.  By March, I could laugh at simple jokes spoken in a language I'd never understood before, which has to be one of the greatest joys a human can experience.

I'm sad I didn't do this earlier.  I was intimidated by the fact that Mandarin is a tonal language (which is true, and definitely one of the more difficult things about it), but I had no idea how many other wonderful things there were about the language that would more than make up for the difficulty of the tones.

First, the lack of conjugation is a serious gift to learners of Mandarin.  Learn a new verb? Bam.  You are done.  You can confidently use it with with every subject in existence and, if you hear it, you know what it means.  AWESOME!

Second, the San Francisco Bay area has so much Mandarin -- I had no idea.  I have learned that every single ABC ("American Born Chinese") friend I have speaks more Mandarin than they'd ever let on.  It's only when confronted with my terrible Mandarin that they correct me and hint as to just how much they know and  understand while refusing to acknowledge a command of Mandarin.

Living in the Bay Area, I now know that I have the opportunity to listen and comprehend Mandarin every day.  I stop and listen to Mandarin speakers on the radio, on public broadcast TV, and, more often, in the street and local stores, every day.

Third, and a completely new linguistic bonus of fun for me, Hanzi are like a constant crossword puzzle at every turn of my life in Northern California.  I can't walk down the street or drive down any major thoroughfare without encountering characters.  Every day I stop (when walking) stare, and try to derive some meaning from the few radicals and characters I know plus the context of where the sign is.  Every day I think I discover one or more new "secrets" of this awesome code.

As someone who self-identifies as an auditory language learner, I had no idea I'd find learning the characters to be such a source of happiness.  I can't help but wonder if this is how fun it was for me to learn to read as a child.  Pure joy at recognition of written meaning is such a foreign concept to me at this point in my life.  What a gift to reclaim it through Mandarin study!

So, suffice it to say, this goal is going well.  Better than I expected.  The almost mid-year check-in is as follows:

- I've completed 34 newbie lessons on Chinesepod.com including listening to the Show, the Audio Review, and Reviewing the written materials for each one.  For a subset I can recognize all of the characters, but for the most part, with Chinesepod, I've focused on the auditory aspect.

-I can recognize and speak at least 100+ Mandarin words by sound alone and I can follow basic conversations about food, work, weekends, etc.  Every week, I have a Mandarin night with my teacher and a good bi-lingual friend.  Occasionally, we invite other bi-lingual speakers.  The ability to interact on simple topics in Mandarin has been one of my strongest sources of pleasure in this endeavor.

-I can recognize and write 57 Hanzi characters (as of tonight), plus I can guess at the meanings of others based on radicals.  I think I'd like to shoot for at least 200 by the year end.  Ambitious, I know.  But I think it's doable.

-Last week, I successfully hosted a party of bi-lingual Mandarin-English speakers and understood most of what was said in Mandarin, including jokes.

In short, this going better than I expected.  Every restaurant I go to, I hear Mandarin -- that's just the demographic of my life.  I hear it at In-N-Out, I hear it at Fiesta Del Mar, I hear it at the ramen joint.  It's just a question of whether I understand it.  Menus for Chinese restaurants, of course, are an additional welcome addition to the exposure.  And, I recently learned the bonus of Japanese menus as well... turns out, the Kanji and Hanzi are close enough that I can read them and understand a bit, too.

Mandarin 2012 -- going well! 

Summer Rituals

It's that time of year again: We got our first sunburns a few weekends back.  We planted the summer garden.  We emptied the shed of the summer furniture. And we've already had a few BBQs.

But we *really* know it's summer (despite the fact that it's raining today), because this weekend, we finished the one summer ritual that never fails to materialize:



We know we can finally welcome in summer when E, the great wasp warrior, sprays liquid death upon the nest that they build *every year* right at our front door.





Also, yes, we finally admitted that we *have* to get a new roof.  (We are hopeful it will proceed on a slightly faster schedule than the bathroom remodel.) 

White Trash is a Hipster Compliment?

This weekend, I found myself in line at the uber-hip Ritual while wearing black skinny jeans, a black tank top with sequinned words across my chest, a black North Face fleece tied around my waist and black men's Ben Sherman Shoes with orange stripes.  No makeup.  Greasy hair pulled back in a bun.  Sunglasses.

The short version of my attire's explanation? Pajamas with the indecent bits replaced with whatever was on top of the laundry pile.  It was pre-shower.  9:30 AM.  In the Mission.  The streets were empty except for a few folks obviously making their way home after unexpectedly sleeping elsewhere.  The line for Tartine was the shortest I've ever seen.  Given the lack of likelihood of public interaction with anyone other than the folks who'd seen me in my immediate post wake-up state, I put even less thought than I ordinarily do into my appearance.  (Is it possible to have a negative amount of thought?)

While waiting in line for coffee, V and I amused ourselves watching the elaborate dance of the barrista.  Imagine Tom Cruise in Cocktail, throwing cups, dancing, and spinning the espresso holder after each deliberate twist of the packer.  Oh, but extremely pale, with long blond hair, super skinny, and a trimmed beard.  So, if you take the actions of Cocktail Tom Cruise performed in a hipster coffee bar by a 70s rocker going for the Jesus look, then you've got a pretty good idea of the show.

Dancing barrista's sidekick was one of the lumberjack hipsters.  You know the type:  Plaid shirt.  Skinny jeans on some beefy legs.  Big unkempt beard.  Converse.

While we stood a few patrons back, I watched Lumberjack pull Cocktail Jesus aside.  He mouthed something and then motioned with his head in our direction.

As they started to look our way, I realized that my brain had read his lips, it had just taken a while to get to my head.

"White Trash"

I didn't really know what to do with this one.  I glanced around the cafe and realized that I was, in fact, the only person in the entire shop in a tank top, and most definitely the only one in sequins.

Also, I'm a little on the voluptuous side for me right now (Thanks to my Dad's family's genes, when I gain weight I get big boobs that are out of proportion to the rest of my body.  Thanks to my Mom's genes, I am very short, so a small numberical weight gain results in quite a bit of change.  Also, thanks to my Mom's genes, weight gain that doesn't go to my boobs goes to my bubble butt.  There are worse things in life.)

So, the sequins were actually splashed across my big chest.  If you know much about the Mission hipsters, you know that a) very few of the women have much in the way of cleavage, and b) the ones that do try not to accentuate it.  By glancing around, I realized I was one of the curviest people in the room, and my outfit screamed that I was obviously not uncomfortable about it.  In fact, if I'm honest, compared to the way everyone else was dressed, it probably looked like I wanted to draw attention to my tits and ass.

Finally, part of the partial transition from PJs to street clothes was that I'd deigned to put on a bra.  My brastraps, however, were not the right configuration for a tank top, so they were showing as well.  And cream.

Before I could decide if I wanted to compose a reaction to the name-calling, I watched Cocktail Jesus look back from my direction and lean back to Lumberjack with his hand over his heart.  "Looooove It."  They grinned at each other, obviously thrilled with their own coolness and that of the people they serve their fucking awesome coffee.  Blissful in their irony, they went back to the performance of their ritual of coffee making.

And that, my friends, is how I learned that at least on Memorial Day Weekend 2012, "White Trash" was actually a hipster compliment.

Holiday Weekend

Every once in a while I recognize that I have been doing too much.

Today was one of those days.

I set my "out of office" at 2 PM letting folks know that I wouldn't be back 'til Tuesday.  I only worked 50% of the hours of the day I ordinarily work (This is despite an early waking hour, a workout that was done by 8 and desperately wishing I could have taken the entire day off -- can you say, "burnt-out inefficiency?").

I finally committed to actually taking the Monday holiday.  I'll get to spend it running in SF, reading, and with friends, E, and my mom, her husband, and brother at the Giants' Game.

I'm so excited.

It's been a long time since I decided I wouldn't work at all during a weekend.  This is, my friends, one of the dangers of a) being your own boss; b) being married to someone who is their own boss; c) being 1/2 of a couple who is ridiculously driven; and d) not allowing children to force you to do things you should probably do anyways.

But this weekend, it's time.

Relaxation is here.  At home.  In our house.  Some gardening.  Some cooking.  Some running. But nothing too taxing.

I've got one more contract to get out (one of the recipients of the out of office actually got a real-time response -- it's better just to get it done, so I must focus...).

But I already wrote off 2 hours this afternoon to go visit a friend I hadn't seen in a long time, and even though I'm technically back at work at my desk, I've already started cooking an elaborate dinner, planning the weekend menu, and just generally checking out of work stuff and into pleasure stuff.

It feels foreign.  But good.

And necessary.

In fact, I think I need to do this more often...

On Motivation

Ben Casnocha's latest book review about chasing daylight hit me pretty hard.

Ever since I freaked out my poor babysitter with a crying fit in the shower over the realization that one day I was going to die (age 6 -- yeah, I was a fun kid), I've always kept the idea of my own death in the back of my thoughts.

It's a great motivator. Each day is a gift. Our time is limited. How we spend it is permanent.

But, I hadn't really given much thought to just *how* limited my time is until I read one of the comments to Ben's post. The commenter encouraged people to calculate their "Number" (aka, how many days you have left, give or take). If I assume I live to 75, I have somewhere in the ballpark of 14,000 days left.

Now that's some *serious* motivation.

On Writing

The fun of talk is to explore, but much of it and all that is irresponsible should not be written. Once written you have to stand by it. You may have said it to see whether you believed it or not.

-Hemingway (The Paris Review, 1958).

I wonder where "talk" and "write" would be divided for Hemingway in a world of email, texting, Twitter, Facebook, and blogging.

Travel Inventory

The first 5.5 months of this year are nowhere near last year, in terms of total plane flights (a temporary move to the Seattle area while maintaining a law practice in the bay area = lots of airline miles).

But, even so, E and I have been discussing how we much we are looking forward to the rest of the year, where there isn't too much travel left on the horizon.

Sure, last year, our trip to Europe was one of the best vacations we've ever taken, even when you include the working tail in London.

But, upon arrival home, we agreed that missing summer in California for travel elsewhere is not ideal.  So, we were already committed to staying home as much as possible this Summer.

Why, then, are we so excited about how many weekends we have scheduled for staying home? Oh...the calendar makes it clear.  

So far, this year, while ostensibly living in the bay area and leading a non-nomadic existence, I've done overnight or longer trips to Carmel, Palm Springs, Washington DC, my hometown area, San Francisco, Cambodia, San Diego, Oakland, San Luis Obispo/Pismo Beach/5 Cities, Savannah, Spokane, and Newport Beach.

E's been with me for most of those and has added 3 or so business trips to his list to make up for the missed ones.

Essentially, that's 12 trips for each of us in 19 weeks, not including day trips (for example, I spent today in SF, onsite at a copyright conference at the St. Francis and E regularly flies to western major metropolitan areas before 6 AM to return home before midnight).

So, of course we're very pleased to see big blocks of uninterrupted time at home for the rest of the year.  In fact, if we stick to the current plan, we've only got 3 overnight SF trips (super easy), 3 trips associated with weddings (fun!), 3 trips to visit family for the holidays/birthdays (extra fun, and double duty), and only 3-4 other trips for the whole year (which are all associated with races and friends/family combined).

That's just 11 trips in 32 weeks, or the lowest travel frequency we've had for the last 2 years.  No doubt, at least one or more work trips will sneak in there, but even so, it's on track to be a great California homebody summer and second half of 2012! 

Being Direct

There's a quote I heard years ago that I really like:

Why is it that all the people who pride themselves on "Keeping it Real" think real means being an asshole?

I like it for many reasons.

First, because I am very direct.  And, unfortunately, I often err on the side of overt directness and don't deliver messages in a manner that is just as clear but more gentle and compassionate when I could.  There is nothing gained by this error, plenty is lost, and it is an area of my life where I strive to improve.

Second, because whenever I'm on the receiving end of a too direct message that stings, I try to think of this quote, and when I do, I smile.  It brings levity and perspective.  It has, on occasion, stopped me from responding with my own (not welcome or helpful) "real" response.

And Third, I like it because it reminds me that my faults are funny.  People's faults, in general, should be viewed through a prism of hilarity.

Most of us are not evil.

But damn, most of us, on occasion, are ridiculous to the point of extreme.

To generally laugh at this reality, instead of responding with immediate anger or harm, seems to me to be one of the greatest things we can do.

So thanks, random quote person.  I really like this one.

A Silicon Valley Culture Snippet

Last night, E and I were eating dinner at our local favorite Mexican food joint when a man walked in with a pin-striped button up shirt (very common) hanging over what appeared to be boxer shorts (very uncommon).

He stood in line and joked with other patrons, several of whom were in biking gear or spandex (also, very common).  E evaluated the situation and decided, "He must have lost a bet." 

Eventually, he was seated at the patio to eat by himself, walking through the restaurant in what to me, appeared to be a half-dressed state.

After we finished, my curiosity (plus the margaritas) got the best of me, and I convinced E to let me go talk with him.

I had seen enough pointing and joking and discussion while he was waiting, that I knew he'd be a good sport.

"Hi.  I'm just curious, how come you are in a dress shirt but not dress pants?"

He laughed and said, "I'm not from around here."  (Umm... yes, we could tell.)

"I wanted to go for a run and so I parked my car in the lot, went for my run, and then changed into my dress shirt to avoid eating in my sweaty shirt."

He paused.  "I guess these running shorts do sort of look like boxer shorts, though."

"Huh."  I said. "Where are you from?"

"Colorado."

"Interesting.  Well, thanks for chatting.  Have a nice dinner."

I'm fascinated to learn that in Colorado, it's apparently much more acceptable to walk around in only the top half of the Sand Hill Uniform (pin-striped blue shirt, khaki pants) than it is to wear a full work-out uniform if it's sweaty.  To me, he looked half-naked, and a little creepy 'til it was obvious that he was embarrassed.  My perception of the inappropriateness of his attire is even more interesting because I had these thoughts while he was standing next to a guy in full cycling spandex.   

Apparently the social rules are different here than what this Colorado dude expected.  In my experience, walking into a restaurant in your workout clothes, even in a sweaty post work-out state, as long as you were willing to sit on the patio so as to avoid being stinky near other folks, wouldn't be considered odd at all.  Whereas being more clothed, but in a way that most folks in the restaurant seemed to perceive as half-dressed, made this guy stand out horribly.