rando commando

i’m eating yogurt covered raisins, watching episode #1 of Masterpiece Theater’s Little Dorritt and just 33 minutes into it have had complete attention deficit disorder of the non-prescription kind.  so i thought i’d take a hot few seconds to pull a couple rando thoughts off the conveyor belt of my brain and overshare with you:

i have half a running outfit on.

i bought a brand new bottle of olive oil but the screw cap won’t unscrew and, upon close inspection, the perforation of the safety seal never indented far enough so there’s no way it will come off.  I banged it on the floor.  i tried both lefty and righty twists and i thought about asking my neighbor, James, to have a go except I haven’t my sports bra on and I don’t feel like putting it on to go out there to ask him for help. so, i’ll have to bring it back to trader joe’s and i’m a bit annoyed about that.

every time the wind blows it sounds like a fly is in my apartment and i have no idea what’s making that noise except that it seems to be coming out of the vents of my AC (which is not plugged in which reminds me that I need to take it out of the window sill)  which reminds me that it takes two people to pull the AC it out because I have 2x4s jammed up inside the windows so that a burglar can’t readily push the unit into my apartment and have his way about my household.

i have a small apartment

everything he’d want won’t amount to much.

i’ve checked facebook twice in three minutes.  i accepted a friend request that i wish i had left in purgatory a bit longer (forever) and every time i get the gumption to unfriend i realize how pathetic the whole facebook thing really is.

my blinds are turned up so the people on the street can’t see into my apartment and watch my every move.  there are people out there who do that, you know.  I do it when I’m walking down marlborough.  it’s fun.  I once looked up into an apartment and there was an old man making dinner completely naked.  he had his blinds facing the wrong way so it wasn’t really my fault.  I also didn’t feel grossed out because the kitchen counter was blocking my view.  but i knew he was naked because when he turned the corner and went to the oven...

BUT now i realize that with my blinds turned up every floor on the opposite side of the street can look down and see right into my livingroom/bedroom/kitchen.  This makes me laugh and i like to think if I lived over there, watching me would be the highlight of my day.  once i get dancing there really is no stopping this machine.

i really like my apartment.  i never get tired of looking at it when i’m in it.  

i really like how i can go outside and run run run and then stretch at the fire hydrant that sits outside and also sit out on the wrought iron chairs in the garden.  there’s a sinkhole out there, though.  a few weeks ago when it was still warm and still light after 7pm, my friend kim and i were having some wine out there and the back legs of her chair sank so fast into that ground that she went right over backwards into the bushes!  she managed to keep her wine glass level all the while.  atta’ girl.

i need to take a shower.  I smell like running clothes which means i need to do laundry. 

i need to put the yogurt raisins back in the freezer, get my coffee mug ready for the morning and set my alarm. 

a 7am around the river is in order.  

now back to Little Dorritt....

x's + oh's,

kay

between the devil and the deep blue sea

i remember waking up in my bed one spring day, back when i lived at 291 beacon, and hearing van morrison's "stranded" floating up through the alley (turns out it was coming through my roommate's open window into mine).   and i remember thinking that that was the BEST wake-up on a saturday morning that I've ever had.

And I also remember thinking that that sax solo says everything my mind wants to say, but can't.  still true.

not the best embed, but i couldn't find it on my usual sites.  it's beautiful. enjoy.

xs+os,

kay

oh happy day!

at twelveohsixam this morning over three decades ago i made my entrance into this crazy world. 

ever since then, my life hasn't been the same.  and i love it.  thanks for sharing this world with me. and to all my friends, my family...i luff you.

"Love is too weak a word for what I feel - I luuurve you, you know, I loave you, I luff you, two F's..."

~ Alvy Singer (Annie Hall)

*********

i'm running roughshod all over life

pulling up floor boards making it right

folding up memories like origami cranes

sending huge THANK YOUS on the backs of paper planes!

(now pretend this is a plane) thanks for all the love my peeps! 

*********

Psalm 139:14

xs+ohs,

kay

Run to Remember - 8/6/11

this evening, a run was held to remember JT Tumilson, a Navy Seal who was one of the 38 men killed on Saturday, August 6th in the Chinook helicopter in the eastern mountains of Afghanistan.  At 8:30pm, Mike Rouse (a dear friend of mine), his wife Kimmie, and hundreds of others met at Mission Bay to run whatever distance they chose, in honor of JT and his service for our country.  Mike and Kim were close friends of JT's, having known him for some time. JT was a regular in the running and tri community out there and if anyone knows the Rouses, you know he was in good company:)


i met JT two years ago, at Shakespeare's Pub.  I think it was a Tuesday.  Rousey and a gang of maybe 10 people met there every week to reminisce, laugh, talk triathlon, running, you name it.    Rousey pulled Mary, Joe and I along and boy, did we have fun.  To say JT lit up the room would be an understatement.  His kindness, his laughter and his genuine desire to be present with everyone around him was enough to light up the whole of San Diego.  I mean that truly.  He was awesome.  


So tonight after work, I threw on my running shoes for a lap around the river.  In those 30 minutes, i thought about how briefly I knew this man, how much I grieve his passing.  How very brave and determined he was - a soldier who fought to keep our country free, who's greatest sacrifice came out of a great desire to serve his country.


And I am so very grateful to him.
My heart goes out to his family, his friends, his comrades and the families of the fallen.  All of the fallen, who have fought so courageously for my freedom.   


And to the friends - or perfect strangers - who showed up tonight in Mission Bay, San Diego to run in honor and respect for a great man that was lost on the battlefield.  May his life never be forgotten.


rest in peace JT.
kay

boulder, co (oh, i see you)

Have you ever just gone and done something without any expectations whatsoever?  Maybe it was a last minute add, or perhaps you stumbled upon it and thought, “well why not?” or maybe you purposefully planned it and put no pressure on it to be anything but whatever it comes out to be.  and sometimes when you do that - when you set no expectation it turns out to be The. Best. Time. Ever.

Well mine was the first option.  sort of.  i just returned from Boulder, CO for a few days with my twinner, Mary Mills.  I had the Best Time Ever.

a few weeks prior to wheels up, my dearest awesome friend, Claire and I were out for an early morning run around the Charles and she told me she was thinking of booking a flight out to see Moo (Mary).  WHAT.  YES. DO IT.  I couldn’t get the words out fast enough and suddenly, there I was, longing to be a part of it, too.   the seed was planted.   and with the help of another great friend, and some restructuring of work/life, i soon found myself annihilating trail mix in seat 30e, listening to bon iver sing halocene for the 8th time in a row and staring past sleeping businessman on my right at the wild atmosphere on the wing: we were soon out of the stormy northeast corridor, slicing through the bright hot blue winds of the west.  

here we go, rodeo.

oh man, there are no words for the greatness of the 4 days.  only four days?!  It seems so much longer, and yet i write this from my couch - the only visible clue that i’d gone anywhere is my red-checkered burton bag with clothes errupting out of it.  

a few snippets, shall we?  The hilarious moment when a certain person almost lit the house on fire.  No big deal.  The laughter that lasted for days once we were able assure her that no, we wouldn’t need to buy Joe a new stove and that yes, electric kettles heat water electrically - no need to place one on the burner.....

or getting last minute tix to see john butler trio at the fox theater, where we jumped around and danced and laughed and sang hard to songs we knew and harder still at the ones we didn’t.  or mary and I being told that we needed our own radio show by the lead singer of the opening act.  because we found him outside and proceeded to talk about life for awhile.  we almost, a l m o s t  sang him our answering machine messages.  we were THATCLOSE.

meeting up with people out there that i love. Joe Gambles, Mary’s beau and someone who I respect and care for and love that he loves my twinner , Jarrod and his quiet calmness, his kindness, and his ability to flippn run forever, Rinny, Darcie, Mary’s running friends, Heather and Ewen, the BBQ, the dare that I can’t wait to see come to fruition after Kona.  

or the runs.  the beautiful marshall mesa, the back side of teller farms, Cottonwood Trail loop with Mary and Jarrod....even the Res where i stupidly ran long in the heat of the day, then drank wine.  smart.  but even THAT was fun.

I won’t go into it all.  all the fun we had, I mean.  because maybe to you it looks downright boring, or maybe it makes your vacations look better or bad.  it’s not really the point, I suppose.  I suppose what you need to know here is that i didn’t expect to feel so filled up after only a few days.  that I came away with a greater sense of self, of that great web of support and friendships that you sort of know is there but when you fall into even the smallest end of it, you feel its strength.  I am grateful to know what it means to love and be loved.

I will end with this... this moment that may seem insignificant, but it pretty much sums up the long weekend for me:

It was the middle of the day.  Joe had come back from training, Mary and I back from a run, Jarrod back from his run.  We were all sprawled on the floor, the couch, talking about our adventures and soon we were fast asleep.  Just....fell asleep.  I remember waking up after about 20 minutes and not really knowing where I was.  I turned and on my right was Moo, Jarrod beside her, and Joe, arms up over behind his head, sound asleep.  I smiled and closed my eyes again.  i liked this moment forever.

and i didn't expect it.

x’s+oh’s,

kay

Noche Nada on repeat in my earbuds....enjoyyy!!

one sweet pic + one soft poem.

this picture and this poem.  there's an innocence in them, and while the two aren't tied, they make me smile.  they sum up what it means, this growing of Up...

little paulie,  oregon coastline.

heart is so new to this.

i want them back, says heart.

head is all heart has.

help, head. help heart.

-lydia davis

the dock days

in the summertime, 7:47pm is the best time of day.  the sun sits low in the sky and the whole world is awash in rich yellows.  sometimes, the sky seems so thick with the day’s residue heat, that even the particles of light fatten into lemony brilliance. it’s a soft sort of beauty and if i were to skim the sky with a knife, i would come away with a pad of sweet butter.

usually, about an hour before the Best Time of Day, I grab my bag and head out to the river.  i like to go to the dock after work.  the dock with the best view is fortuitously the dock closest to my apartment.  oftentimes it is filled with messenger gangs (i hope i coined the phrase, but they’re harmless really) - just bike couriers who are either finished for the day or have come to grab a quick break with their friends.  i know this because i hear them talking - large circles of black-clad 20-somethings whose bikedom is a wreath of beater fixed gears and sweet rims laying at awkward angles against the flexing wood.  i usually find the corner of the dock and splay out and stare up at a meandering sky, grateful for this sweet spot on the river.  i am reminded of how many times this dock has been a friend...

in the winter, my breath froze in the air as i whispered my hands warm for the run ahead.  i would pause and watch a crow make it’s circles in the sky, the buildings lashed together like frozen corpses my busy mind draining until it matched the gray sky that matched the frozen river.  so quiet and so cold.  this unforgiving season promised to us every year brings a beauty in it’s cold claws.

when it’s really nice out and i have no place to be, i’ll usually end my long runs on this dock, cooling down by it’s the edge. i twist and turn and tuck and lunge and reach and gasp and breathe the musky wood and marshy waters. the greatness of this post-run moment is usually amplified by whatever song is on my ipod and if it’s temper trap, jonsi, freelance whales, lykke li or the like, i feel as though i’m in a movie and this is the part where i am the coolest.

the granite steps that lead down the wooden planks is where i sat with a friend who’s heart was breaking. while strangers took their turns by the water’s edge reading, talking, dancing, stretching, we kept our bent knees facing west, sharing our hopes for each other’s lives, and bouying our hearts with truths that will endure.  with the sun setting we rose to find our way back, leaving the rich dusk to the geese and night owls.

these past few months have gone by quickly. the sky turns darker sooner, the wind picks up and on it you can feel a change coming.  these days play out unaffected by our daily lives, rolling from one dawn to the next, because it’s what Time does....and yet.  we are so much changing.  or so much staying the same - but isn’t that change, too?  

i’ve recently been to oregon for a family reunion, to maine to my beaches.  to maryland for my grandparent’s 60th anniversary, and soon to boulder, to visit my twin.  so much has happened and so much has changed.  we put things down on a calendar and we count the days.  but the days that carry us there are the ones where we become.  the dock days.  the every days.  the days where we shut off our brains, lie on on our backs and face the blazing sky.  maybe we hold the hand of a friend, maybe we let our hand be held.  breathing it all in, it all deeply in.  and then maybe we see we’re just a little further along than we thought.  the musty watered wood that stretches out beyond the tides takes us farther out then we could ever be on our own.  and sometimes that’s just enough.

xo,

kay