Fortnight's Forecast

I'm so tired right now that I slipped into a numbness that wasn't broken until Dan called and told me he was going to buy fish food. The numbness came on this morning, around 10, and when I got home after a VERY long day of classes I changed and had a brownie and turned out the lights at 9:30. Then Dan called, and then my sister called (she got a new job at the Stateline Tack inside a Petsmart, which is awesome because we own half the horse stuff Stateline sells, and she's getting a cat tomorrow), and then I was snapped from "numb" to just "exhausted."

Sunday night I finished up at work and got home by 2, got some food and wound down until 3, and then got up way too early Monday, even though I could have slept until noon. Plagued by my normal Monday night insomnia, I got little sleep last night too, so here I am run-down. My head feels like it's stuffed with all the thick city air, like the rain brought down all the smog and it got stuck in my cranium.

Writing is quickly piling up, and I'm getting a bit anxious. Next week I have an explainer due, an essay or op-ed to write, a game story to do, and a serious narrative pitch, and the week after I have a 1200-word feature due for sports writing. There's going to be a lot of reporting to do. The next two weeks will be uncool. But then my parents are coming to town, which will be great, and there will be a nice bike race to do as well. And then, two days after my parents leave, I go home for a week, where I can meet Julie's new cat and go with Dan down to College Station for a bike race he wants to do.

I need more books. And as soon as I can come up with some I want, I will buy them. While I forgot to ask my editor how much I'm getting paid, another agate told me he thinks it's 10 or 11 dollars an hour, so I should make double per month what my TA-ship pays. Not only can I buy books, but I can completely pay of my credit card and hopefully even squirrel away some money for the venture into the real world.

Tomorrow I'm going out for a ride. I haven't been out in more than a week, and even if it's raining I may go out. (Cross fingers for dry, though.) Right now, I'm going to eat a bowl of warm soup to hopefully make me drowsy and then crashing.

Papa Gino's Resembles Cardboard

Today was my first day as a Globe employee. I slept late, since it's a Saturday, of course, then ran a few errands and leisurely got ready for it all. It was a bit of a task getting there (an hour of walking to the T, waiting for the T, sitting on the T, walking from the T), but I shouldn't complain because once I get on the T I just sit and read a book. Plus, I'll be driving tomorrow night, since I get out when the paper gets done--sometime between 1 and 2 a.m.

I got a 5-minute explanation of what to do when you answer phones and that was about it. There were two other agates there, and at the busiest point of the night there were probably 5 of us. And because the slow-moving beauracracy (is there any other kind?) still hasn't processed my paperwork, I don't have an employee ID or anything and couldn't get into CCI, the software for all the editing and writing. So I spent my day answering phones, writing down scores and plays by football teams, and looking up random things for people.

Am I the only person who wouldn't really consider calling a newspaper to find out if a game was playing, who won a world championship women's basketball game, what was on ESPN tonight or how baseball playoffs work? I got questions about all those tonight. One guy wanted to know about the Florida-Tennessee rivalry and who won last year. Then he wanted to know about Clemson and Florida State. Another didn't really speak English but wanted me to read him every score from every women's FIBA game today. Here are a couple other phone conversations.

Me: Sports, this is Liz.
Guy: You said Lynn?
Me: Liz.
Guy: Alright. Hey, do you know what's on TV tonight?
Me: Um . . .
Guy: Some games. I'm looking for some games. How about ESPN? What's on ESPN:
Me, frantically getting to the ESPN website: I've got it coming up here on the computer, give me just a second. You know, the Sox are on Fox right now . . . uh, looks like Clemson and Florida State tonight.
Guy: How about ESPN 2?
Me: We've got Texas playing Rice.
Guy: Texas? And Rice? (He sounded disappointed)
Me: TCU is playing on OLN. They're playing Texas Tech.
Guy: Rice is nice. TCU? Texas Christian U?
Me: Yep. I went to TCU, so that's what I'd be watching.
Guy: You want to go to that game?
Me: I'd love to be at that game.
Guy: You want to fly down to that game with me? We can fly to the game. Let's go to the game.
Me: Sure, I'd love to, if you can get me there by kick off. Kick off was seven minutes ago.
Guy: Why don't you give me your number so we can fly to the game. (At this point I'm laughing, he's laughing, and I realize that he is, indeed, as I suspected with the "rice is nice" comment, drunk.)

Another gentleman called and asked for a score. I put him on hold, found the score (I think it was the Harvard game, although I don't remember), and picked back up to tell him. This is about the fifth time I'd had to look up and obscure score for someone. He says thanks, and then asks, "How's your sense of humor today?" I was almost expected something snarky from him after that, so I said, "Well, it depends what it's about." And then he told me the following--a recent survey asked people in the U.S. if they thought immigrants should learn English, and 47% said yes, they should, but 53% said 'no hablo ingles.' It was funny, partially because it was totally not what I expected--a guy calling and telling me a joke. I liked it.

The other agate clerks were nice, but I got the feeling they didn't have the time for me. One stringer named Brendan and I talked a bit, since he sat at a desk by me, and he talked about TCU and then left to cover a game. Another AC took that desk, and his name was Roie (Row-ee) and he sat by me for the rest of the evening, which was nice. We discussed a bit of everything, especially once things got quiet, after 7:30 or so.

And then I left when I was done.

After I filled out paperwork on Thursday, when I was walking out and talking to Dan, he pointed out that I forgot to ask how much I got paid. Whoops. But there was pizza tonight, and it was barely acceptable, but the cinnamon sticks were yummy, and since by that point it was all guys left, I could eat them without too much competition. And as long as I get some food and get to beg for a science or health brief or one teeny-tiny story, pay is secondary.

Tonight I was scratching my knee and thought about scars. I had an editor once who said mistakes in stories were like scars--they add character. I think he was trying to convince a copy editor that one of his own stories was fine. I have a scar on my left knee from my knee cap getting kicked and cracked by a horse, and a scar on my right knee from my tights when I fell in ballet. An inch-long red line on the heel of my left hand from my first cycling accident this summer. A little half-circle on a knuckle from slipping scissors when I was in elementary school, probably 3rd or 4th grade. It was in New Mexico. A pencil-top eraser of red on my right shoulder, from a not-happy end-of-the-semester worry in the spring, and a large thumbprint of light pink on my left shoulder, which I don't even want to get in to.

I like my scars, in some way, because they're me and have stories behind them; I guess I feel about them the way people feel about their tattoos. And I like knowing about other people's scars and tattoos. The markings, discreet or unmissable, of where we have been and what we have done. The whole business of it all probably came to mind because I was thinking today of how I'm happy with where I've been, what I've done, with pretty much everything right now. Like some scars, there are things I wouldn't want to explain, but . . . things are good. I'm happier here this semester. Perhaps it's because I can see the end coming. Perhaps it's because I'm still caught in the heady last bits of summer (and the weather is still nice!). Perhaps I've made some semblance of peace with Boston (until it rains again), because my classes are good, I have jobs, and I have a bike, and I know how things will work.

But right now I think I'm getting too philosophical, and I'm trying to watch the movie "My Life," a 1993 flick of Michael Keaton, a terminal cancer patient making video diaries for his unborn son, and Nicole Kidman, looking delicate and pretty and blonde and not annoying, like in Bewitched. Much like that awful movie with Brad Pitt and a skin disease, it's got a lot of pathos and funny clothing of the time, which look bad now because they were trendy then. Like Brad's flick, this has a cultural healer that's called upon to try to help a hopeless case. I have to go inventory other similarities now, and reassure myself that yes, I have chosen the path of light as journalism and pray I will never think of making a movie.

One Step Closer to Media Domination

My feet are killing me. I feel like I've been walking on nubs, or I only have nubs left, or my nubs are on fire, or something like that. I started with heels at 7am and got out of them at 4, when I finally got home. I didn't think I'd be in them as long, and I didn't expect as much walking, but I was wearing slacks and had to make a good impression.

I was dressed up to go to the Boston Globe and fill out paperwork. I'm officially an employee there, now, which is pretty cool and has the potential to be a lot cooler. My sports writing professor, Jack Falla (covered hockey for SI, he's a very well-dressed gentleman who I find very amusing), had mentioned on Tuesday that the Globe might need help on the sports desk, basically doing agate clerk work. So I e-mailed the sports editor and he practically jumped through the computer and dragged me in.

Three days a week, mostly nights, and I'm going to have to learn to drive since the T will be closed. (For example, Sunday night I stay til everything's put to bed, which could be 2 a.m.) The good news is their sports desk is pretty small these days, so I'll meet everyone, and when I told Bob I was a science journalism student, he actually suggested I go harass the science reporters and beg for a story or two.

I'm so in.

Dan knows it too. This is a job he actually did for like four years at the Star-Telegram, and with his connections he got himself a reporting job. One of his dreams is to write for the Globe, and he adores Boston, so I told him I'd work the networking. I admit, I wouldn't have a problem moving back up here again--for a bit--as long as we could live a little further outside the city. Out where there's cyclists and horses and fewer street cleaners 12 feet from the house.

Classes are ok, although things are quickly picking up. The web magazine has been going 9 times smoother than I expected, a hugely pleasant surprise. The copyflow system is good, and I was able to convince people to go for earlier deadlines. You've just got to go earlier with a publication. If you're just writing for the hell of it, milk it to the last moment, but not in a copyflow system.

My parents are coming to town! Or at least my mom definitely is. The weekend of October 1 and the bike race. They've never been to Boston, and I hope they're both able to come. My dad's work schedule is sort of hellish, but they didn't do anything for their anniversary this year and they need to see Boston while there's still a daughter there, so they can check off two things at once.

And then a few days after they leave, I go back home for a week. It'll be fall break at TCU, so Julie and Dan won't have class on Thursday or Friday, which means sleeping late and staying out late. I'm excited. My sister was going to come here over her fall break, but like me, she's been between paychecks, and she's of the mind that Boston will always be there to see--she's right, too.

Today I had no feet. Tonight it's raining. Tomorrow I'm going to buy cake from Shaw's to celebrate my new job and a great start to the semester. And then Saturday night, my first night at the Globe, I will contemplate my future as a reporter and how to take over the world of newspapers.

Respect My Authori-tay

Friday night was the Hyatt event, which ended with a $114 tab and me drinking some good whiskey sours and eating soup (naturally, everyone has soup at a bar, right?) and then not being able to sleep because of all the sugar in the drinks. Kate had gotten an invite on a ride out in Concord, and so we plotted to drink lots of water (check), leave early (check) and go out (half-check). I didn't go. I completely wimped out on the 9:15 Saturday morning ride of hills and falls. Evidently 3 of the 5 riders fell. Can you believe that? What are the odds? You can bet I would have made it four.

I admit I don't remember what I did yesterday, but I know I saw the movie Little Miss Sunshine last night, and I enjoyed it thoroughly. It was as funny as I expected and the plot was what I expected for the most part, but a nice little part surprised me. The peanut M&Ms for dinner there were also especially good.

There was a women's group ride advertised to start this afternoon at 1 at the Belmont Wheelworks, so I packed my bike up and my jacket to head over. I got there the same time another girl rolled up. Her name was Katelyn, from Vancouver, and she introduced me to the four other women who showed up. There was one catch--they were all on the Wheelworks racing team. I was the only non-team member who showed, so I was sort of worried, but then we started out.

It was 30 miles (putting me at 100 for the week, my goal), and I really have no idea where we were except out on little roads with lots of trees and around a lake, and it was about an hour and a half ride. I started off in the back, just to stay out of the way, but moved my way up through and talked to everyone. They were pretty nice, and I don't know how much they were holding back (we were all still conversing, so we were all working equally hard), but I stayed with them comfortably through everything. It was great. Additionally, I could beat most of them up hills and stay with the other ones. Most of my riding has either been with Dan or on my own, so I never know how I compare to others. Dan says I'm above average, but he's obligated to say that since he convinced me to get into this whole thing. So it was a pleasant ride, and boosted my confidence quite a bit. It was nice to ride and chat with a few new people, not too many to be intimidated, and to have the skills to keep up.

I told Dan all about it because he taught me everything. Plus, I like keeping him abreast of the good stuff since all he saw was me crashing and bonking over the summer. I can say I'm an authority of learning about cycling, but I'm getting better about knowing stuff.

Since it was chilly, I made soup for dinner. Naturally. I didn't make it like heat-up-a-can-of-Campbell's, but I did it from scratch, the way I used to regularly in the winter in Virginia. There's a pot to feed me for days, and I'm looking forward to it. As long as I don't mix with too many whiskey sours, it'll be good.

Just Like a Gunshot

I had class early this morning, which was very bizarre because I was getting off the T and walking home at 10:40 a.m. and was done for the day. I watched a bit of ER reruns, the old ones before they got too crazy, and then went to Target. I admit it was a totally frivolous trip, but I just got my financial aid and I deserve it after this summer. Besides, I don't think I'll do it again.

After that I came back, ate lunch on the back porch, basked in the sun and my new magazines. I resisted napping and went for a ride with Kate instead. We met at the MM trail in Arlington and were pumping up our tires before heading out, and while Kate was finishing her front tire I told her about how Dan rented a bike in the spring from Wheelworks. The men in the shop checked it over and inflated the tires and it was resting against the checkout counter by Dan as he filled out paperwork and paid. I was looking at Shot Blocs or Sport Beans or something, I'm sure, when there was suddenly this loud pop like an explosion or gunshot. Everyone flinched hard. The tube had exploded. I was telling Kate this story, and about a half second after I said "It was just like a gunshot" there was the noise again as Kate's tube exploded. Needless to say, we were shocked and had to make sure not to talk about anything else negative unless that happened as well. I'm thinking we have magical powers.

Tomorrow we have a meeting about our webzine. While I'm excited, I'm also nervous. I know I'll probably get short-tempered and frustrated because I have this vision of how things should run (I'm sure we all have a vision) and I will want things done my way. The last publication I did long-term work at was mine; I called the shots on everything, and I was the ultimate decider on how things should be handled and presented and I did a really good job--I have proof. But I'm going to need to remember that this webzine doesn't have the same aims and the others in the program don't have the same knowledge. I think things will be much better once the site is going and we're turning out stories and everything else, but getting to that point will be interesting. Our class spent about 20 e-mails trying to even decide on a time to meet tomorrow. It'll be interesting to see how long it takes to get stuff done tomorrow. I hope I'm pleasantly surprised.

On the seven-day forecast for the ten o'clock news they show the little clouds or suns and the high and low temperatures, but they also have a little Patriots helmet image on game days. And I thought Texans took their sports too seriously. Evidently, not like these people. I have to say, it's strangely endearing, like a kid's obsession with dinosaurs or mummies.

Classes With Class

Today was the first day of classes, which was sort of a bitch after a great Labour day of a grill-party at Molly's and a baseball game (Red Sox won) at Fenway. Additionally, I haven't gone riding since Thursday (Friday was a day off since Eric was in town, Saturday was thinking it was going to rain, Sunday it really did rain, yesterday was a fun day and today was 12 hours of classes with one-hour breaks on four hours of sleep). I got up early enough to shower and wear something other than sweatpants, but I dunno how long this will last.

But there have been very good things. For example, Kirk and I came up with a brilliant movie idea--a children's movie about moths and baseball. It sounds a bit like Angels in the Outfield, but believe me, it's much better. At least, it was better last night with grossly-overpriced beer in a cheap-ass plastic cup. Molly and Kirk also had some wonderful headlines for Steve Irwin's obit. (Am I the only person really pissed that he's getting the same kind of coverage as a dead head of state?)

Even classes were ok, and Kate and I successfully filled an hour with talk of cyclists and bikes and other important things, like swimming with Olympic gold medalists (which she has now done). As soon as she marries Zabriskie, she can die a happy woman, even if he does currently have a beard. (Aerodynamics and cyclists . . . they shave their legs but grow beards, as Kate pointed out. What good does that do?) I'm actually pretty confident about Ellen's class and the web class this semester, and I think the website will be killer. I'll put the link up here so everyone can see that yes, I still remember how to slap a good headline and deck on something. Horvit and her little copyediting-happy-heart would be proud.

Speaking of Horvit, her husband--an investigative journalist at the Star-Telegram--talked to Dan about the story I wrote for the Weekly. He thought it was pretty good, from what Dan said. Actually, I think Dan's had everyone at the Star-T read it and everyone generally approves, which makes me feel good. All of them also comment on the snarkiness of my sinfully-snarky editor. What can you do? The really scary thing of all this is that if Mark Horvit read my story, Dr. Horvit probably did too. It's a horrible thought. She taught me reporting and copyediting and I never felt even remotely up to her standards. I always felt like I was a vague but sad disappointment to her, and so the thought of her seeing another story of mine makes me quake. Even on the Brite stories, which must've had SOMETHING right, since it got me a scholarship and a national award for reporting, came back from her with a 78 on them or something and a dozen comments on what I did wrong.

Horvit never wrote a single comment about something that was good. I don't know if I've ever gotten one from Doug, either, even though he might say something nice. Maybe that's why I'm more partial to Ellen. Even if I know my story is really good, it's nice to hear others at least make a nod to that.

I got my Trek Travel catalog today. I still haven't opened it, I'm so excited. I also haven't opened my two Newsweeks that arrived simultaneously today as well. Want to know what I did read, though? The Princess Bride. Great movie, no denying, although I'm not one who walks around quoting it or anything like that. But the book mildly annoyed me. If you read it, you probably know what I'm talking about. There's all these little asides and parentheticals that probably either come off as incredibly charming and precocious or damn annoying after a bit. And when I was done, I realized hey, I write this in constant tangents and parentheticals and useless side notes . . .

But people don't pay $6.95 or whatever it is a paperback costs to read this.

(I didn't pay. I borrowed the book from my roommate.) And I just saw a commercial for the movie All the King's Men, and every time I see Jude Law I fume at his horrible, horrible face. He's not even remotely attractive because he always has this smarmy look, no matter what he's doing. If only everyone looked like Dave Zabriskie . . .

Crappy Judge of Character

My parents are in Tampa and were battening down the hatches for assorted hurricanes and tropical storms and whatever else, and the Times this morning was talking about the remnants of Ernesto in the mid-Atlantic region, so (I'm getting to my point, stay with me) this morning's gray and very windy sky didn't seem like great weather for, well, anything except Halloween. I slept till after noon, when Dan woke me up, and decided not to ride because I didn't want to be 18 miles from home when it started death-throes-of-a-hurricane raining. It's spring-style windy out there, too (oh, you all from the Southwest know exactly what I'm talking about), and I don't like dealing with that unless I'm at Benbrook.

I wimped out is what I'm basically saying. And I judged everything wrong because it didn't end up raining at all.

After watching the second half of Donnie Darko (thank goodness for good movies) I spent the afternoon reading and thinking and pondering and mulling over things on the back porch.

The weather affects me way too much.

There's this horrible (and I mean HORRIBLE) movie called Dirty Love that I think I mentioned before. Dan and I found it on some obscure movie channel over the summer, and I'm watching it again right now. It's a Jenna McCarthy flick (it's not porn, in case you were wondering) about a girl who's boyfriend cheats on her, so she's trying to get over him. Carmen Electra (prettier than McCarthy in my book) thinks she's black and it's got the skinny geeky kid from American Pie (hate that movie). (I use a lot of parentheticals, don't I?) It's so highly amusing in so many ways, probably because it won Razzies for worst movie, worst director, worst screenplay and worst actress of the year. Yay for obscure stuff. Another great obscure movie with a blonde--Splendor. I think I saw that a dozen times in the wee hours of the morning as a freshman.

I tried looking for the second and third books of the Regeneration series by Pat Barker today and it didn't work. It was a used bookstore, though, and it's not like I would have bought them right now, but what the heck. Browsing never hurts. Last night I was going through some Wilfred Owen and Sassoon poetry and got really ticked off at the state of politics today. More particularly, the state of war right now.

And so because it's a brooding day outside and I spent a good portion of the day brooding, I think other people should brood too.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.
(W. Owen, 1918)

I would rant outright, but I think everyone knows what I'm talking about right now. And while I don't completely think everything about Iraq is evil-intentioned or built on lies, I do think things are way out of control and speaking as someone who's part of the military way of life, all the soliders and airmen (including those of our allies) need to be sent home asap.

I'm done now. Blustery days make me wish it either WERE Halloween or I could be home enjoying it with my sister out at the barn for a wild ride on Topper. But it's only another month until I can probably go home and Halloween will be just a few weeks after that.

I Got A Pet Hedgehog

I really don't have a pet hedgehog, but I do have the song "Commerce, TX" by Ben Kweller now, thanks to my handy iTunes card. I saw BK a couple years ago at the Ridglea theater in Fort Worth when he opened for Dashboard Confessional, and I admit I liked him more than DC. Kweller rocks, and he's goofy and plays the piano. What more could you want? Additionally, that night he was wearing a sweater than looked like one I have. It was my dad's when he was in college, many moons ago, and so perhaps he also pilfered his parents' closet.

Guys, it's been sunny for two days here. TWO days. I debated even mentioning it because I was afraid the sun would sheepishly hide again and we'd be stuck with rain, but that's ok. I've already decided I'm taking tomorrow off, since Eric will be back in town. I like the sun. I can sit outside on the porch and read while I sun myself. I feel obligated to say that I am against skin cancer and against sunburns, but I am all in favor for warming yourself in the warmth until you feel nice and toasty. Basking with a book is greatness.

And that meant two days of riding out in Bedford and Concord, following those little maps I bought. They're keepers. I've only done one of the rides (just did it two days in a row), but it's enjoyable and takes about an hour. It's a nice change to be passing houses and tiny farms and riding stables instead of worrying about all the inline skaters and road crossings on the MM trail. I had NO idea inline skating was still so alive. Or maybe it's just a Massachusetts thing.

The only thing that sort of irritates me about the riding is that there are a ton of riders out there and they don't wave. Maybe this isn't a big thing. Maybe Texas is incredibly weird. But at least there, cyclists acknowledge each other--a half smile, a grimace if you're dying up a hill, a raising of the fingers off the bars in a wave. It's a signal that hey, yeah, I'm a cyclist too, I'm out here trying not to get killed by an SUV, isn't it cool that we can go out and damn, isn't that climb a bitch? There should be some camaraderie.

So I decided to start waving at everyone I passed. I saw some of the same people that I saw yesterday, and I figured I'd rather have a reputation as someone who's too friendly than someone who ignores everyone else. And half the people either waved back or smiled. Maybe you just have to initiate things here. Maybe they're all tri people--Dan said they evidently don't acknowledge each other the way cyclists do. Beats me. But I'm gonna wave.

And I found a website that will let you cycle (and wave, if it's not an obscene gesture there) in other countries. Ok, I didn't find it, Dan did, but it's quite the site to drool over. (www.trektravel.com) It's all about cycling, eating decadent foods and staying in plush surroundings. We're gonna rent a castle in Ireland, we decided. It will be fabulous. And it will be quite well-juiced on Guiness, I'm sure.

There's a jumping stable on the route that you pass, and yesterday there was a girl schooling her horse out in the arena. It made me really miss Topper. But the bike will suffice until I can get back home.

That and the awesome song "Legs" by Darondo. It's some '70s funk/R&B song that makes me want to dance. Amazing what you can find on the internet.

Brad Pitt's Skin Disease

It rained today. Again. So I drove to the bike store and bought Sport Beans and some little maps of routes to take from the end of the MM trail. They're even laminated, which is awesome, because my health insurance card is just a flimsy bit of thick paper and I carry it with me in my back pocket and I got it soaked (with sweat, I know, the grossness). I had to dry it out with a hair dryer and laminate it with clear packing tape so I can take it out with me again. It's for just in case that one Masshole driver tries to kill me, then the paramedics can find my health insurance card and driver's license and whisk me away to whatever colour body cast I choose.

I also went to Target, the Happiest Place on Earth, where I wasted more time than I want to admit. After an hour and a half, I walked away with a 3-subject notebook for classes, cotton balls, the CD "Death By Sexy" by the Eagles of Death Metal and a $15 iTunes gift card. The reason I was there so long is because I was torn by guilt . . . buy a CD and iTunes things when I'm broke? Am I going to need that money to go out for drinks or something before school? What if I pop two tubes and need to buy another one, since I only have one spare?

But Eagles of Death Metal are so much fun, and there's a ton of random songs I want, so I figured a gift card would keep me from plugging in my credit card number and accidently racking up $103 in Kanye West songs or something. Additionally,now I have "Peace, Love, Death and Metal" and "Death by Sexy" and can shake my junk for a consecutive two hours plus. They're so much fun. Thank goodness for good music.

Last night I had a serious attack of the Bed Bug Boogies, which was me thinking I had the buggers in my sheets and freaking out and ending up sleeping on top of the bedsheets and boiling my bedding today. See, evidently the northeast has bed bugs and they're not just part of a cutesey saying that freaks out little kids. For those of you who don't have the backstory, my mattress was given to me by Creepy Craig, the Rhode Island boyfriend of former roommate Amber. Craig had this in storage and gave it to me when he helped Amber move in because I was sleeping on an air mattress. (Evidently Megan still tells people about the air mattress because it's pretty darn funny.) I was unsure about the hygienic state of the mattress and worried about bugs so I wrapped it up good in two waterproof mattress covers, one on top and one on bottom. And I've never seen a trace of bugs, and I guess you end up with tiny bites if you have them, but I don't have them. I didn't have them last night, either. I was just itchy and paranoid because I found a beetle on my pillow a few days ago that had crept in an open window.

I work myself into these weird states over the stupidest things, I swear. Like my freakout about getting a job on Friday, and then last night and the invisible bugs.

Sunday night I watched a movie called "The Dark Side of the Sun," which was made in '88 or something and was shown on some local channel. It was horrible. Really, really bad. But it had Brad Pitt, and I was just curious enough to see him that young. I think the only movie I've ever seen all the way through that he's in was "Fight Club." But this movie was about this kid with some horrible disease who has to wear a full leather mask all the time and gloves and no skin can be showing or he could die IN THREE DAYS if exposed to the sun. His family moved to Yugoslavia so he could be healed by some medicine man, and this American actress visits his town for a festival and he becomes enamoured with her and forsakes his S&M leather gear for a few days with her.

You can tell how horrible it is, can't you? The opening line of the movie, I kid you not, was Brad Pitt saying (while he's on his motorcycle in his leather), "I don't want to die. I want to live!" And then at the end he dies anyhow, and it isn't until 40 minutes into the movie that we get to see him. He's kinda pasty with red rimmed eyes but has an elaborately blow-dried long feathery haircut which made my day. It was greatness. And in the last scene he goes in to kiss his mother and he's all scaly and tumorous or something and then drives away on his motorcycle into the sunset, presumably to crawl off and die in the Yugoslavian mountains.

I dunno if Yugoslavia has mountains.

But it should, for the sake of this horrific movie. I thought it might be related to the disease xeroderma pigmentosum, a legitimate genetic disorder where people's skin cannot repair itself from skin damage, so they must stay out of the sun and light otherwise the rays will break down their skin and cause skin cancer and lead to death. This is one of my "pet" diseases. I have a couple random ones that I'm fascinated by and research all the time because they're so odd and it's miraculous the way the body works when it's well and how people must adapt their lifestyles when it doesn't. There was a pair of novels about a man with XP written a few years ago that were pretty good, and I thought the movie would be as well. No such luck. People with XP don't die in three days. But it was still amusing.

A good book or movie or piece of art about a disease cannot be underrated. That's probably my fantasy science writing job . . . writing books where a disease is brought to light in a convincing, accurate and humane way. Like "The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime" for autism or "Flowers for Algernon" for mental retardation and "A Beautiful Mind" for schizophrenia. (Those are all pet diseases as well. I'm big on neurological things.) I'll write my newspaper articles or magazine articles, but rest assured I'd be working on something like this in the mean time.

And hopefully nothing I do will be turned into a movie with a pasty Brad Pitt.

There's a guy on TV with a baby raccoon. Does anybody else remember the book "Rascal"? My dad had a coworker who had a raccoon he'd found abandoned when a tree got chopped down or something. Its name was Crash and it used to sit on this guy's head when he was puttering around in the garage or whatever. It was in San Antonio, and he lived a little ways out of the city with some really pretty land and at the time his daughter was in a wheelchair with pins and rods sticking out of her legs because doctors had surgically broken her legs and rotated them because she was severely pigeon-toed. Even then, when I was in 7th grade, I remember the medical stuff. I was fascinated by the pieces of metal poking out of little puker-holes in the sides of her thighs and calves.

I think our pet dinosaur is done growing. He's almost the size of the bowl now and hasn't done much in a few days. Now on TV there's West Germans and Czechs playing bicycle soccer. They use the wheels to kick the ball and they have amazing track stands and mad skillz with a z, Czech style. But Lance still rules--obviously, because he powers all of ESPN. (http://www.sportscenteraltar.com/multimedia/video.asp)

More Than A Bike

So I'm going to talk about something other than my ride today, but first I have to explain about my ride and how generally "eh" it was so you know why I'm going to talk about incredibly superfluous things.

Yesterday it rained--again. And pretty much all day, cos goodness knows I'm not going out and doing a ride anytime before 2 or 3 in the afternoon. If it rains in the afternoon, that means it rains all day. I sat on the porch and read and ate hotdogs and surfed thanks to my handy laptop. So when it started off clear today, I was excited to get out.

But I had an errand to run first (a completely different topic that makes me angry, so I won't explain) and when I got back I'd almost lost my momentum for a ride. I was angry and got back and half my bike clothes are (this is gross, sorry guys) damp because it's been so humid here. My gloves haven't dried since I got back, and my jersey is always slightly damp too. And you can't really throw that stuff in the dryer, either, so it's a nuisance.

My damp clothes and I head out Mass Ave to the MM trail and casually wind our way down. I didn't really have any "go" today. There's excuses--like I know I ate wrong and didn't drink enough before going out--but whatever. I did sprints on the way out, mostly so that I felt justified in ambling about at 13 mph. It let me cruise in my triple and occasionally spurt out real work (28mph) and then slow back down and say I was being productive. It was greatness. On the way back I did the first two miles out of the saddle "working on my form"--just another excuse to go slow. I was working on technique, people, technique and form. It's important stuff.

And my bum will probably still hurt tomorrow from all that out-of-the-saddle BS.

On to other things . . . I have a secret weakness for fashion and style and clothing and accessories and shoes and purses and all that nonsense. It's more a fascination than anything I want to take too seriously for my own life. It takes too much time and effort most of the time to put this stuff into action. But on the internet . . .

Oh, the internet, my friends, is the best place ever to indulge yourself. These are my two favorite websites/blogs of fashion. Let's start nice and then get naughty.

The first is a site (http://thesartorialist.blogspot.com/) by a guy who largely just takes photos of people he passes on the street who have interesting/cool styles. Not necessarily a fashion site, but more of wow, look how these people carry and present themselves. I love it. He has lots of photos of old men in snazzy bowties, and few things are as stylin' as those guys. And then he gives a quick little note or two on why the style is so cool. He's nice, and is never snarky or says anything mean. Furthermore, he pays atention to men and their style (or desperate lack thereof). Guys can use more tips. Sometimes he has interviews with fashion people, but I skip that. This is a site just for the photos of real people. Gotta appreciate that.

The second site (http://gofugyourself.typepad.com/) is the most mean, bitchy, condescending and nastily-funny site by two women who rip into celebrities and their bad outfits. It's such a guilty pleasure. Everyone who's ever been bad is on there--Lindsay Lohan, the HIlton sisters (as well as the sisters Duff), Britney writes "letters" to her fans here . . . this one you gotta read the text that goes with the photos. Despite the fact that I use "lol" in instant messages, I rarely laugh out loud while online, but this site will make me snort like a truffle-searching pig. I am in the middle of reading every single thing on the website because I am dismayed at the thought of missing something. Like they say, Fugly is the new pretty.

Tomorrow I'm going to the Belmont Wheelworks to buy Shot Blocs and Sport Beans. I would buy normal Jelly Belly beans, but there's only 4 flavors I like and then I have to find teeny tiny baggies to separate them so they're riding-friendly. I'm also going to look for a nice bright coloured jersey, preferably with reflective stripes because I dunno if drivers can see me. My mom said I should get one of those orange mesh vests. Yeah, RIGHT. A vest. Next I'm gonna put a basket on the handlebars, too.

Kate sent me the website of the Fat Cyclist and he had an article on how to be a bike snob. As just evidenced, I'm well on my way.

Kyra Sedgwick (or however you spell it) of the show The Closer gets on my nerves. A lot. And I don't even watch her show. I'm just a hapless victim of the commercials.

I'm gonna go fug myself by reading about the bad Emmy outfits.

I'm Sounding Like Dan . . .

I realized that all of these posts are about cycling, and I apologize, it's just that there's really and genuinely not a whole lot going on in my life. I watch movies and read and surf online and go riding.

Today I went out, rode to the end of the Minuteman trail and was trying to decide where to go when I saw a guy in a I (heart) TX jersey. He was with another guy, and I rolled up and asked if he was actually from Texas. He assured me he was, and I told him I was too and had been here a week with my bike and where should I go from here (the end of the trail)? He told me where he was going, and said there was one pretty long hill, and told me I was welcome to follow along.

So I did, and we're cruising and it's pretty and green and the weather is 68 and the cars are pretty respectful.

When we got to the hill, I recognized it before I even got on it. I don't know exactly how long it was, but it sucked a lot. It's probably the only long hill in all of eastern Massachusetts. The guys were (naturally) in front of me, and ended up about 10 seconds ahead, but I made it up and was proud of myself. Then I followed them back to the Minuteman trail and finished my ride. About 26 miles total, and I unexpectedly got my hills done today too.

Yay for Texans. Their names were Paul and Lance and they were from Tyler. I dunno how long they'd been here or what for, but they were friendly enough to let me tag along. That's always appreciated.

I still feel like a kid when I'm on a bike and ride with guys. I feel like I'm 10 again and they're all older than me, mysterious middle-schoolers who are bigger and talk about things I don't understand.

By sitting out on the porch after dinner I finished A Rumor of War, a book I stole from Dan, and realized I need to read more about Vietnam. I don't know nearly enough. All I read this summer was World War I literature, which is probably my historical favorite, but I hadn't thought of the parallels between WWI and Vietnam until just now. The way they were such huge turning points for soldiers and civilians, the righteousness and ultimate disillusionment that followed.

My backside hurts from that damn hill.

I Don't Need No Recovery Day

So Kate e-mailed me on Wednesday (she reads this . . . how do people find the nonsense I put up here?) and said she had a riding route. You can imagine my glee--a trail that's mostly away from traffic and is nice and wide and shady. The best news? It's only about two miles from my house, in Arlington. (Lexington? Concord? I don't really know all the places it runs through.)

Tuesday I'd been out on the roads without any real mishaps, but I drove to meet Kate just in case. The last thing I wanted was to have to call her and tell her I'd face-planted myself into the back of a Nissan or something and would be late. So we got there (she has a Giant OCR too) and then headed out on the Minute Man trail. It's 9 miles out, 9 miles back, and we did it twice. It ends at an intersection with a train car and a Giant bike shop, but we didn't have time to explore. It was pretty much dark by the time we got back.

Kate has to actually do work yesterday, so I rode out to the trail (along Mass. Ave all the way and I'm still alive), rode out, explored a bit, got scared by traffic and came back. A total of 27 miles. I felt pretty good because I only got passed by guys who were good.

I've done three days in a row and a total of about 80 miles. Sweet action.

It started thunderstorming last night as I was going to bed and it's still kinda raining now. Additionally, it's 63 degrees right now. That's only 4 degrees from the 50s. That's a bit bizarre.

I started out with the intention of riding three days, taking a day off, riding three days, day off . . . the same way Topper and I train. But I slept late (as per usual with no work), ate breakfast, dinked around, ate lunch, am dinking some more, and with no ride to look foward to, I'm in a semi-funk. Riding is the only thing keeping me from going loopy from boredom and brain damage from watching too much TV.

Perhaps I'll go out today after all. I'll let a little air out of my tires so they're a bit grippy and then maybe work on hills or something away from traffic. It could be my first day to test my new jacket, too. (Yay for buying winter clothing at a summer sale in Texas. It doesn't get much cheaper.)

Yesterday I saw a KFC commercial and those drumsticks looked so damn good. Right now I'm watching a commercial for some hair product and the girl is about the worst actor ever. And now the Fanta commercial is on. There's a KFC around the corner. I passed it yesterday when I rode home.

Same Play, Scene Two

I'm back in Boston. Dan and I got here last Wednesday night after three days in the car, nicely broken up by lunch with an old professor-friend of his now in Arkansas and then dinner with Kerry, Dan's sister, in DC. It was pretty fun. I love the fact that we can do a drive like that and everything is relaxed and ok. I got all pissy one morning, but it was due to a lack of sleep and stress over my cover story for the Fort Worth Weekly. The final draft was still inwork while we were on the road, which sucked, but what can you do? When there's a story, you gotta do it. And I love that Dan does the same thing and understands.

Dan and I tooled around town for a few days--or rather, in the evenings. I let Dan sleep late while I worked on edits until dinner time, then we'd go out and get dinner and walk around. Friday evening was especially nice. We wandered in and out of bike shops and down to Harvard Square and watched the street performers and then caught dinner and wandered back. The weather was beautiful and we'd bought a gift for Loren's birthday and we had nowhere to go, nothing to do. Once we got back to the house I realized I'd left my keys inside, so we were locked out for a few hours, but we just went down to Mike's to have beer and watch the game.

Saturday afternoon Dan left, just barely making his flight because the T was slow and he got the full security treatment at the airport. Megan leaves tomorrow to go back to Texas for three weeks before her classes start, so I'm pretty much here alone with my bike. Now that my story is done, it's almost like there's nothing to do. I should be happy, but I'm in a slight funk. It's just that people from school still aren't back and there's only so many miles you can do until the stress of the traffic starts getting to you.

But at least now I know I can cycle and not get killed. Sunday I drove down to the river to give the Charles trails a try. What a mistake. It was horrible. Not a single person out there knew what they were doing, and it was just bad. The trails were of crappy condition, and were narrow and all the walkers and clueless people in the city were on them. I spent more time going 2 mph and dodging people than doing anything else. Memorial Drive was blocked off for a bit, and so with the whole street I could get up to 23, 24, but then the barricaded part of the street ended and that was it.

Today I had better luck out on the streets. It was downright scary in some parts, but I was out for an hour and was doing pretty well. The only time things got dodgy is when I had to merge into the left lane to turn into my neighborhood. But I was doing a steady 20 for most of it and the hills weren't a problem. I'm much better, which makes me happy. Next time I ride with Dan I don't want him to have to slow up for me too much.

While he and I were in the ATA bike shop I decided my next bike goal is to do a century ride. By next December. That will give me almost a year to train in a better climate after school. But I want to do the full 100 miles and I want to do it well--no lightening speed or anything, but to keep at least a pretty steady pace and not crap out. Dan was really encouraging and said I could do it without any problems (or anything but the normal problems), and I think I can too--I can do 30 and 40 well now, so I'm excited. My goal is also to do one NOT in the summer heat. That would suck.

Boston, take two.

Woe Is Me Money

Most of the things I've stressed out about this summer have been related to A) my checkbook and B) my credit card. I'm not a fan of this whole thing. Not that I've ever just spent money all over the place, but having to pass up on something I want at a grocery store is ridiculous. They're just peaches, for goodness' sake. Or having to bum food off my sister because she has a paying job (had, I guess, since she quit). It's ridiculous. I'm going to max out my credit card probably before school even starts, and my parents have been giving me money.

I broke my phone yesterday. More specifically, Topper broke my phone. I was talking on it and he swung his big head around and cracked it right out of my hand in two pieces. It made me very sad, because that's one more thing I have to pay for, and on the other hand I was glad to be rid of the damn thing because I hate flip phones. My two wonderful ringtones are also gone, though. Bummer. Dan got a new phone and I got his old one, which is study and NOT a flip phone, so at least that's good.

My car has required stuff too, which is money from my parents which makes me feel guilty. The battery died, then had to get the trunk fixed before heading back up to wet Boston, and then it's gotta get a full check-up before leaving to cross the country again. Moving is expensive. Hotels and gas and food. And the tolls. I spend like $20 on tolls. And I decided to take my car up to school, so I have to ship up a lot of the stuff I brought back in order to fit my bike in the car.

I picked a fight yesterday with Dan over $8. It's pitiful. I hate it. And I can't figure out my financial aid bullshit. I'm going to have to call the school tomorrow.

This isn't meant to sound like a big gripefest. Things have been good. The weather has been below 100 now, and I can ride Topper. He loves it, and so do I. My sister is also in a new apartment that's very cool, and I could probably move in there when I come back if I need to. It would save money--that's for sure, and goodness knows I'll have to do that. Dan and I will be heading north soon and then I can find a second job. I will be the only intern (count: ONLY) with a cover story from this summer. That will be badass. Dan gets some obscure soap opera channel, so I can watch Beverly Hills 90210. I was never allowed to watch it the first time around, so this is very funny and amusing in a weird way.

I will be glad to get my loans, get some money, pay off my credit card and bike (that's almost as much as another maxed-out credit card) and start saving again. This whole spending thing isn't my style.

Take Two

I actually tried updating this about a week ago, and I got everything out and written and then accidently closed the window and everything I'd worked on disappeared. I couldn't get it to come back and didn't feel like re-typing it all, and it's just now I'm getting around to it. That's because right now it's Wednesday night, Dan's working cops, and I'm with my sister and some of her friends watching Edward Scissorhands. I remember being about 6 and trying to spell "scissors" at school in Orford and failing a couple dozen times. Good thing my education has taught me something.

I guess I should start a few weeks ago, back when Dan got a scholarship from the Texas Rangers and got great free tickets and parking and a giant plastic check presented to him down on the field. John and his friend Dan (who's also dating someone named Liz) came with and the three of us watched Dan on the widescreen from the bar as he got his check. He looked uncomfortable, but he got to keep the check and then come up and have drinks with us. (He also got a coupon for 15% off at the Diamond Club, where we drank.) The best thing is he got to keep the giant plastic check. I love it.

We didn't stay for the entire game because Dan and I had a time trial in Royse City the next morning that we had to race in. We left way to freaking early because it was about an hour drive and we had to get there for warm-up and sign waivers and everything and we had some of the first start times. We got there and found that the course was over hills . . . what a bitch. Plus, everyone else at this was on a TT bike with disc wheels and aero bars and drove luxury SUVs. People with way too much money. I rode part of the course as a warm-up, and they started us off in 30 second intervals. I was the 6th person to go, and was feeling pretty good until all the guys on slick bikes started passing me. The disc wheels made them sound like a car with a flat was coming up behind me at 40 mph. It was startling. It really pissed me off when a hugely fat man on a TT bike blew past me. How is it that guy could lug all his weight up a hill so fast?

But I finished and my average speed was 17mph, which is pretty damn good for hills. Furthermore, I did not finish last, so that was good. It was my first race, and I liked it, and I hope to do more. Especially now, two weeks later, because I've learned how to climb better. Dan's a good trainer.

After the race we went back to Fort Worth because Topper was getting blistered. It's about as basic and medieval as it sounds. As previously discussed (I feel like a professor), he completely tore a tendon in his back leg, up in his pelvic area. With blistering, they stick a 12-inch needle right straight down into his hip and inject a mixture to irritate the area. The irritation will hopefully promote the growth of scar tissue to connect the end of his tendons again. That way I can ride him again, even if he can't jump. The mixture is iodine with almond oil--the oil binds with the iodine and keeps it from being absorbed too quickly and shocking the body too much. Next week we'll find out if it worked, if it's making scar tissue grow. It if doesn't work, I can never ride him again, never take him out . . . and that would make me sad. I love him as a big cuddle companion, but I know he'd be happier if he could work. It would give him mental stimulation, keep him fit (he's the fittest horse of his age I've seen in a long time, and I'm proud of that), give him something to look forward to, some variety. I reallyreally hope it works.

This past weekend was all waiting for my parents to get here. The Kelly family reunion (my dad's dad's mother) is in San Antonio and my parents were coming to partake and this Monday and Tuesday were spent down there with them for my sister's birthday. She turned 20. That makes me feel hella old. But my parents were fun. The same old stuff. The grandparents were ok too. My mom's dad, who lives in New Braunfels, looks exactly the same as he did when I was really little--he's 82ish now. My dad's parents are good too--my grandmother is just the cutest, sweetest little thing, and my grandfather was showing his stubborn side. He was just barging around. It was borderline annoying. But my sister and I had a good time together, at least. It's great to know it's always the two of us.

I have three weeks left in my internship. I have a month left in Texas. The Tour is almost over and it looks like Floyd Landis may not win and the prolouge to the Tour next year is in London. Dan and I are going to try everything we can to go. How awesome would that be? No language barrier, like in France. But that's a year off, and here and now I've rambled on long enough. At this rate, I may not post again until I get back to Boston. But I'll try. I like being able to think out loud.

Riding in a Parade

I just got finished eating about a pound of cherries, a dessert after some leftover vegetarian enchiladas. Everyone knows I'm a huge fan of some beef and chicken, but these enchiladas are pretty damn amazing, I gotta say. Dan found the recipe in some vegan magazine, and we decided being vegan is overrated and folded in so much cheese it was insane but so good. Just for the record, I'm also watching Beverly Hills 90210. I was never allowed to watch it the first time around, and this summer I discovered it on some super cable channel. It amuses me quite a bit.

While I'm admitting things, I'll admit I am disgusting and desperately in need of a shower. Slept late today and then headed out for a 30 mile ride, which was really fun. It's the Fourth, and in Como (the GHETTO of Fort Worth . . . you don't ride through there after dark) there was a parade. Dan and I will ride through there to get to a wider road out to Benbrook, but today we rode through the parade. I felt like I was intruding. There were big pimped out cars with hydraulics and spinners and amazing sound systems and guys on horses and cops crawling around. They were throwing candy from cars, and the kids would get it, and that was the worst part--making sure we didn't have a kid dash in front of us. But we made it through and out to the lake.

Benbrook Lake is a nice place to go riding, I decided. Last time I was there it was my first 45-mile ride, and I was tired and hot and kinda miserable. Today I felt good, and all the rolling hills weren't as bad. I almost hit a wild turkey that was standing in the road around this sharp turn, but I was going slow enough that it could fly into a tree. That just cracked me up. Wild turkeys. They're so goofy.

There were clouds rolling in and thunder as we headed back from the lake, and although we didn't get rained on, we were riding on wet roads back. Since I was following very close behind Dan (usually 2 or 3 feet just behind his tire), I got a great spray of water. It felt good. The only thing is now that I'm dry, I realize how much grit was in that water. Kinda gross. But it was a good ride. Almost llike being out riding Topper when the weather is wild. The only thing is that with Topper, you always felt like you had a co-conspirator in some adventure. On a bike, you're on your own.

Saturday is the July time trial, since I missed the June one with my elbow. I'm pretty confident I can do well, especially after today. And then Saturday afternoon the vet comes out to blister Topper's leg. It's the last chance for his ligament to heal and for him to ever be ridden again. I was so completely sure he'd be ok when he got checked out at his 8-month mark--the vet had said that after 6 months, Nature could heal it--and then it was a hard blow to find out nothing had changed. Please let this treatment work . . . please let his leg get better. I will never, ever get rid of Topper, so if he becomes a giant pet, that's fine--he always was. But I know he likes being worked, I know he likes jumping and I know he likes going out for adventures as much as I do. I'm hopeful.

And I'm also still in need of a shower. I should take care of that.

Like Badgers and Bicycles

The summer is in full swing, and I probably would have completely forgotten to update this unless Eric had asked me to do something with it. I keep having to remind myself that this summer is just temporary and I really do have to go back to school for another semester. Times like this are just effortless, which I appreciate, and there's never any real stress and there's never any feeling of "fuck, I'm tired of the same freaking schoolwork" and there's definitely no month and a half of rain. Screw that. This is long hot days being good at what I do at work (and having fun at it, no less), aiming for the 50 mile bike ride (I did 45 last Sunday morning), lazing with Topper out in the grass and Texas thunderstorms.

Dan and I bought me a beautiful road bike about a month ago. Carbon fiber frame, low spoke count wheels, great components, beautiful black and gray . . . it's a guy's bike, but it's a compact racing frame, and in this small size it fits perfectly. The first night out (it was the end of my first day of my internship) we ended up getting caught in the dark and I ended up crashing over a cable, which was raunchy amounts of not-fun. My left arm ended up caught under me, which means it got torn up on the bad asphalt and I sprained my elbow pretty badly. I was able to get back on and ride partway home, where Stephen obligingly came to pick me up, and so he and I followed Dan (still on his bike) back to Fort Worth. I got a beautiful collection of bruises down my left side and a trip to the ER (just to double-check there was no fracture anywhere). That all got me a sling (which I didn't wear) and a vicodin prescription (I only used a couple because it's always good to keep some handy).

My elbow is ok now, though, and I can straighten my arm all the way again. Last Sunday's 45 mile ride was brutal-ish. It was ok except the air in Tarrant County is so freaking bad. Your lungs just start hurting. But with a good jersey and shorts you don't get too hot, so that's good. I'm working on my cycling tan. I want one like Dan's. It looks like someone put painter's tape around his thighs and then slathered his lower legs in a deep tan. The line is so sharp it just cracks me up. I like my bike, and I love the scenery and the heat and the accomplished feeling when I'm done. It all makes up for the occasional gnat in your eye and rare douchebag drivers and the braincells I bake.

I'm excited because I may get a paycheck in the next few weeks. My first story gets published next week. The Weekly only publishes one metro and one feature every week, so getting into the list can take some time. The metros are about 1200 words, and the features are about 3500 or so. I've got a feature I'm working on, slowly but surely, but it's gonna be a beast of a story, looking at corporate vs privately owned farms in Texas and the environmental impacts as well as the financial and social aspects. My metro was nice because it was my old Fort Worth beat--religion. Nothing scandelous this time, but it was good to get back into the groove. There's another story I'm working on with another guy from the Weekly, and it's about the water district using taxpayer money for the most stupid things, like buying $500 lunches. Misuse of public funds is bad. All the receipts and whatnot came from a FOIA request, and the communication guy at the water district now used to be a communications guy I worked with at the Skiff. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Communication people make me nervous, like PR people.

These are really long paragraphs. I just realized that. It's not a very good example of decent journalism. But I'm watching Napoleon Dynamite and I just ate a huge bowl of strawberries and I need a shower, so I'll leave it at that. My life isn't hugely exciting right now, but I'm thoroughly happy. I have to check how much money I have in order to buy shampoo, but it's nice outside and I'm home. I can't ask for much more.

This Is My Sigh of Deep Content

In exactly one week I will be DONE with this school year! One week. Seven days. I don't really care how many hours, because I'm just so glad to be near done.

I've only been to one class this week, really, because of some problems with US Airways and American Airlines. I would never have thought two airlines would have problems in the same night, but I don't think I missed much and it just puts me that much closer to the end of everything.

My Easter break turned long, which was alright, because there was a lot that happened. Finding out Charles died was a huge blow to Dan and his brother; that's not a cool call to get on Easter. Nor was it easy to face when we went to see his family. It was much worse for everyone else there, but it was odd for me because I was an outsider intruding on the grief of others. How do news reporters deal with that? It was hard enough when I was reporting on the stuff at the divinity school, and that was reputations shredded and religions twisted and people molested, but no one died. And just to make a hassle, Topper hurt himself on Easter as well, and while it's not horrible, it wasn't good.

Aside from all that, there were falconers to hang out with, hawks to watch as they eat birds, teenagers to laugh at and internship interviews. I got one at the Fort Worth Weekly for the summer, and as much as I thought I wanted the Star-T, I think this is better for me. Dan deserves to be at the Star-T, and he'll give them better stuff for them than I would have been able to. He's good for them, and they know it, so they'll give him the opportunities to do awesome stuff. Like this weekend, how he's off hobnobbing with bigwig cyclists at the Tour of Georgia for them.

But the Weekly is much more open to long pieces about sort of random topics, which is good for me. Science and health and environment and stuff like that is all well and good, but it's hard to do in a way that anyone gives a flying fuck in shorter stories. The Weekly will give me the leeway to be quirky and weird and do all the stuff I really like, like hang out with goofy people. I'm all about that. And then I get to write about it.

This summer will kick ass. I can feel it coming. Topper will be there for me, regardless of how much I can work him or not, and he'll appreciate the company and attention. Julie will be there, which is good because my last true girlfriend has moved to Georgia (boo for Emily moving). Dan will be around doing the same type of work but different enough from mine to keep things interesting; I'm always thankful I'm dating another journalist.

Things did, in fact, work out. That makes me so happy. Even though I worried and stressed out occasionally and thought of worst-case scenarios, things worked out perfectly.

It wasn't me that got everything to work out so well. There's a lot of things to be thankful for.

Madness

March Madness is up and going. I was watching the BC game while I was at the gym the other day, and even right now I'm watching the Kentucky/UConn game. (There's nothing else on TV.) I'm going to take a few moments to gloat, because I get the feeling I don't have long, but I've consistently been in the top three places of an online bracket group. My bracket has rocked the socks off everyone else in the group. That makes me happy because it's proof that I'm not quite as hopeless as people like to think.

I have to watch TV at the gym now because I decided I need to take up running. I love running for the first minute, and then I hate it, so I need something to distract me while I get better at it. Then, when it's warmer (does that ever come to Boston?) and when I'm a little more used to it, I can go outside and revel in it all.

Thank goodness the semester finally got more invigorating. Or maybe it's just me feeling better, since there's hints that spring could be on the way. It's pretty consistently sunny, and it's even supposed to be in the mid-40s for this week. That makes me happy, but at the same time I'm wistful.

This time last year things were starting to look up. I was getting over being sick and things were being smoothed out with Dan. We'd skip class to go get breakfast at Taco Cabana. I went tanning. Hours were lazy at the barn, since I still couldn't ride. My ugly sweaters weren't essential anymore, because it was warm. Even my classes were good (except music theater . . . psshht, hehe).

Dan left here Wednesday. We'd gone to bars and walked the Freedom Trail and gone to a Bruins game and he'd gone cycling. We'd rented movies and ate a lot of pizza from the best pizza place ever. It made me optimistic, having him here. It's bright and sunny outside and despite the cold, it's not as dark as it used to be. Days are getting longer, and I saw little spears of flowers coming up in gardens today. I'm going to see a movie early this evening, and today so far has been lazy.

We're going to repeat happy thoughts and, for once this semester, actually believe in them:
I will get an internship.
I will be just fine in my classes, even Doug's magazine writing class.
I will see spring in Boston.
I will move back to Texas for the summer.
I will find out that Topper's leg is just fine, but because he'll take another 3 or 4 months to rehab . . .
I will buy a road bike.
I will be an ok runner, even if never great.
I will be thankful for the sun.
I will be so excited to wear T-shirts and skirts and flipflops all the time again.

Whew.

Fortnight

Spring break is in another 2 weeks. That's ridiculously early. I just got back from a weekend at home on Monday, and I'll be leaving again not next Friday but the Friday after that. Two weeks. Hot damn.

As per usual, it was great being home. I love every single minute I'm in Texas. It's always good--if I'm hanging with Julie and Michael, with the guys and Emily, at a bar or party, seeing the horses out at the barn or just being on the couch with Dan. (I'm so glad he has a full-sized one now. It was cramped on that loveseat.)

It's still hard to get into this semester. There's a lot of work to do before spring break, and I'm having a hard time getting myself into it. This is going to be a 3-day weekend, and I'm gonna be doing a lot of writing. The weather here has been drop-dead gorgeous. There was a blizzard over the weekend, while I was conveniently in Texas, but since then it's been sunny and 50. You can't ask for anything more. If it's cold and rainy this weekend, it's ok. Then I won't feel as bad about being locked up inside doing work.

Which is ok, I guess, because it's not like I did anything too strenuous at home.

This is random, but I really, really, really don't like that there's an entire industry built around air fresheners. Not just things that neutralize the air, but all sorts of things to make it smell different. Since when did no-smell become bad? Fuck you, Glade Wick; fuck you, Febreze Noticeables; fuck you, Lysol Neutra Air. And double fuck you to whatever one has the stupid "CDs" that play different "scent stories."