Tuesday, April 29, 2008


I am looking at efficiencies still. Yesterday I reduced my blogroll from 100 to 62. My goal is to have it below 50 by day's end. It's not easy and it doesn't really make me feel good. Except that it does a little. Because regularly I have 683 gazillion unread posts glaring at me. And so while I enjoy stopping in from time to time to see what's new, I can not maintain connections with so many people.

So, last night I read a lot. I caught up and I made choices about who was adding what to my online time. It was a good process and I remembered why I blog-rolled a lot of people to begin with. And I remembered why I started this blog and how uplifting and inspiring the running and tri connections that I made were. And then I was overcome with a sense of failure because I stopped. And they didn't. And when I "knew" them they were learning to run 5ks, like me, but now they are running half marathons, marathons, and Olympic distance triathlons. And they ROCK. And I can say I knew them when. But my goals have changed and while I am again working on becoming fit, I do not feel compelled to compete or write about it.

While I kept some of those feeds, I got rid of some, too. And that feels right.

And speaking of write. I know some talented folks who offer inspiration and example and I want to know them better.

While there are many, I'll offer just one example: Kate knocked me over with her love letter to her niece. And I completely relate to her less than appropriate sense of humor. I love the way she recounts conversations and I appreciate her writing skills and style. A lot. And so she stays and I look forward to spending time with her. Because if I reduce and tighten my blog-roll I can actually participate in the community.


Monday, April 28, 2008


I am inefficient. I spend too much time turning from task to task to task and at the end of the day I've done nothing extremely well. Every day. Online and off. Work and recreation.

The less structured summer is coming and when I woke up this morning I was listening to my son sing along to Crocodile Rock on his new iPod Shuffle that he bought with his own money after depositing an equal amount of money into his savings account and the problem with that is that he shouldn't be old enough to do it.

But he is.

And so I am looking at my scheduling and my growing time markers that live with me and I am afraid. So, I am focusing my energies on simplification. Reduce. Reduce my beloved blogroll. Reduce objects. Reduce wasted time and energy. Reduce incessant email surveillance. Reduce piles and stored objects.

And instead of focusing on expanding, I need to focus on tightening. Tightening my community circles. Tightening my obligations. Tightening my faith. Tightening my abdominal muscles. Tightening my time.

It's spring. Time to wake up.

Sunday, April 20, 2008


We're in a house that's not ours to clean.
The 3 are asleep.
The wine is fine.
The view of the ocean is clear.
No one is sick.
The tvs are off, and now so is this machine.

Saturday, April 12, 2008


I am trying to get my groove on- or back- or whatever.

I, like the 3 small ones in my house, am sick again. It's viral pharyngitis. A sore throat. Which describes perfectly the fire that has been burning in my throat for the past 5 days. Who names these things? If it were me this would be double diagnosis of viral throatonfiritis with a little can'tstayawakus. The kids are just wrapping up some spring colds, and they each have a lingering cough. No Big.

On another medical front I have been preoccupied by the idea of living without a uvula. A possible treatment for sleep apnea involves a
uvulopalatopharyngoplasty. Now this sounds like a great way to spend a day, no?

The real question is, can I lead a long and fulfilling life without my uvula?

Thursday, April 03, 2008


My father died 10 years, 11 months and 17 days ago. I remember it and sometimes feel it as though it were a month or 2 or 3 ago.

In the past few months I have been thinking about writing in a different way. And in the past few weeks I have been thinking more about writing my stories. My mother wrote her autobiography for a college course when I was 13 and she was 50. I just finished re-typing it and having it bound and copied in her honor for her and my siblings.

So, here where I used to talk about my fitness efforts (which I still think about), I am now recalling stories from the distant and recent past. Maybe it's a step towards an autobiography of sorts. Maybe its a series of writing exercises.

Thanks for your thoughts and condolences on what I wrote yesterday. They soothe in the same way they might if this was a more recent loss. Fact is, my father's death is neither recent nor distant. It's constant and permanent. So, thank you.

Wednesday, April 02, 2008

Just After

I called my sister in the middle of the night, on a wire stretching from one coast to the other. I stood in the dim hospital hallway leaning against the ICU nurses station, not looking back into the room I'd just left.

I told her that he died. I don't recall telling her that when we got the phone call at home we crammed in a car, flying over bumps and though lights, never seeing another vehicle. I don't recall telling her that we pulled up to the emergency room entrance, abandoned the car, doors ajar, and chased each other at full speed up two or maybe three flights of stairs.

I did tell her that he was still alive when we got there. I did tell her that we stood, touching a part of him- foot, shoulder, arm, hand, head. And that we prayed the Our Father for our father until he was done breathing.

I don't know what she asked, but I offered her what I thought I'd need if she were there and I was not.