oh, boy...



"one day i'll go off 
to high school and
make you second-guess
everything you've ever
said or done!"



"courage is fear holding on a minute longer."  ~ george s. patton

***********

i dropped the boy off at freshman orientation this morning.

he played it all cool and jaded and above the fray ~ but he checked and rechecked the visor mirror, and fiddled with his hair the entire ride over.

maybe he wasn't anxious and a little scared. maybe that was just me, projecting.

once upon a time this wary, weary boy was sunny and gregarious, all smiles, all the time. he changed ~ which is to say he grew up ~ as people often do. but because i so vividly remember the earlier version, i often have a hard time reconciling v.1 with v.now.

i miss that boy.

he still peeks out, every so often, like today. as he closed the car door and walked away, i sat and watched him go. as much as i think he may have been intimidated by the uncertain and the unknown, he still waded right into the thick of it. then he was through an open door, and gone.

just before he got out of the car, i didn't say, "i love you."

but i thought it.

me dislikey

i shouldn't do this.

it falls into the same category as drunk-dialing and angry-emailing and, oh-i-don't-know, searching for mitt romney's soul.

i shouldn't post while sleep deprived. nothing good can come of it.

therefore i will do it anyway, because my judgment is impaired.

***********

have you seen this? it popped up on my facebook page recently (originally posted by someone called "being conservative," which is a terrible name...what were his parents thinking?).

wow. you're dumb.

at that time the image had over 600,000 "likes" associated with it. i have to assume it has even more now, since several days have passed and there have been no reports of "conservatives" abandoning the internet en masse.

certainly they have reason not to "like" the internet. its existence makes it so easy to share stories about interesting people in strange places (or strange people in interesting places), like todd akin from missouri and frank szabo up in new hampshire and judge tom head from the great state of texas.

go ahead, read their stories. those are some wacky conservative guys "being conservative"!

but we stray from the all-important and heretofore unannounced points of order. which are really just casual observations anyone might make, about anything, anywhere. these points, however, are about the photo above and its terribly clever caption.

 

point of order #1: this bit of rhetoric is not the conservative viewpoint. the conservative viewpoint would be, "i pay for a social safety net as a hedge against being thrown out of work or disabled or some other random act of unkindness. the universe is full of unpredictability, so this preparation makes good, conservative sense. but you want me to take a drug test to use the safety net i helped pay for? no. or, put another way: you'll get my urine sample when you pry it from my cold, wet fingers."

 

see? "being conservative" is complicated!

point of order #2: who forced you to take the urine test referenced above? hint: no one. you willingly submitted your pee for the privilege of supporting someone else's lavish lifestyle and early retirement. yay! if you're upset about this insult to your integrity and personal liberty, please redirect your anger at corporate employers that treat you as suspect and potentially criminal as a condition of employment.

no one said "being conservative" was easy!

point of order #3: a massive drug testing program is unconservative in that it doesn't make economic sense. given the number of long-term unemployed in this country, testing them all presupposes a huge new government bureaucracy spending countless billions of dollars to save a pittance paid to people who are down so low that they can't help but fritter away their pitiful weekly "welfare check" on illegal drugs.

have you seen photos of meth addicts? do they look like they're out on a golf course somewhere drinking champagne and laughing in a harvard accent? hint: no, they look like they're ready to donate their bodies to the nearest cadaver lab.

no one said "being conservative" is actually conservative!

spiteful sidebar: if you're going to propose spending new billions on the unemployed, why not slap electronic bracelets on them so we can monitor their every move?  that, of course, presupposes billions more spending on welfare/urinalysis enforcement squads (think halliburton and blackwater/xe/academi. tagline: try to buy drugs now, poverty-stricken scum!).

liberal alert: or we could spend that money on mental health services and job training and actually putting people back to work.

useful factoid: in florida, where they've actually implemented a drug-test-for-welfare program, they discovered that just 2.6% of welfare recipients tested positive for illegal drugs. compared to 8.1% of the general population. go figure.

to sum up, corporations buy our elections and our politicians to rig the future in their favor, while we squabble like hens over barnyard scraps. we're informed we can't afford teachers or firefighters or cops, but authoritarian government and corporate welfare are okie-dokie.

"being conservative." hmm...i don't think that means what you think it means.

embrace change

my daughter has braces.

they're pink and yellow, and apparently they look like something worn by katy perry in some music video.

maybe so. i don't know.

to me they look like a future where time passes at an exponentially accelerating rate, and i'm helpless to do anything but watch as it races past.

this feeling doesn't suit me, so i'll not dwell on it beyond these few words.

just a couple years ago, it seems, this child was born to much fanfare, within the limited scope of our little family. hers was not a routine birth, in that when she was born she wasn't breathing. i remember, in the aftermath, the doctor saying something about a reaction to the pain meds mrs. spaceneedl was given during labor.

but in the moment, all i recall is the girl being snatched away by the nurse, multiple people hovering over her, a bag-valve mask, and someone saying loudly, "breathe, baby, breathe."

the missus and i both began crying at that point.

i remember a needle and an injection and then the girl was crying, too. i remember this like it was yesterday, even though it was almost a dozen years ago.

the time in between has passed in the blink of an eye. in the interim, this child has been fearless and ferocious and full of joie de vivre. hardly a day goes by that i don't quietly shake my head in amazement and avert my eyes  so as not to give away how easily i might be folded and spindled to her every whim.

she goes off to middle school in a couple weeks. i remember how i scoffed at the orientation meeting when the boy started middle school. "this is going to be a tough transition for you parents," they said. "you won't recognize your child, or his behavior, sometimes. but you'll get through it."

yes, it was tough. it still is, even as the boy gears up to start high school. i don't look forward to a similar transition with the girl.

in the meantime, she has braces. eventually the incisor that sticks out at a familiar, endearing little angle will fall into alignment and look like someone's idea of perfection.

me...i liked it the way it was.

shouting at butterfiles



butterflies hate to be yelled at.

after not very much contemplation, it's easy to leap to the conclusion that many things don't make sense.

upon further review, it becomes clear that nothing makes sense.

so, why fight it?

***********

92 isn't really hot.

but in seattle it is record-breaking hot. and people here can't handle it.

"it's so hot!"
"can you believe how hot it is?"
"when did we move to hell?"

it's summer, people. it's supposed to be hot. instead, we've had one day above 90. and one day above 80. this week? back into the low 70s.

the rest of the country, famously, is broiling. or burning. or poaching. half the counties in the u.s. have been declared disaster areas.

interesting, unsurprising factoid: july 2012 was the hottest month ever recorded in the contiguous u.s. please don't think this is due to global warming, because lots of people insist there's no such thing as global warming, and we have to respect their beliefs. rather than try to do something about global warming.

92 isn't really hot. (still, i'm not going running in it.)

***********

in wisconsin, a guy walked into a house of worship and killed 6 people. he didn't use a knife or a pool cue or a garden hose. he used a gun. which made it easy for him to fire a lot of shots, killing and wounding many people in a very short time.

pat robertson blamed athiests.

the nra sent out fundraising letters in colorado three days after 70 people were shot in aurora, co ("the obama administration wants to confiscate your guns."). makes you wonder how soon the nice folks at the nra will try to cash in on the deaths in wisconsin.

please don't talk about gun control now. there's no good time to talk about gun control, but especially after lots of people get shot.

***********

eat at chick-fil-a. or don't eat at chick-fil-a.

i mean, avoiding fast food in general is a good idea if you want to be healthy and live a long time.

come to think of it, opponents of marriage equality should eat a lot of chick-fil-a. every day.

***********

this is a photo of mars, which happened while anti-sciencey people were denying climate change...

i bet this isn't even mars. it looks like utah.

***********

since may of this year i've participated in at least one running event a month. actual, official events, i mean, with sponsors and t-shirts and lots of other runners. turns out this sort of thing is kind of fun. so i've signed up for four more races between now and october 13.

• a 10-mile trail run through a rainforest (no rain no rain no rain no rain)
• a labor day half-marathon that starts and finishes at the redhook brewery
• "run the bluff," a 12k event held right in our neighborhood
• the gunstock trails half-marathon on oahu...pineapples yes, guns no

this will put me at 8 events in 2012. why? i have no idea. and really, if nothing makes sense, why look for explanations? it is kind of fun, though.

***********

uncertainty is an unhappy, uncomfortable feeling. but given a world where every second is an exercise in improbability, it's the only logically defensible state of mind. people filled with self-righteous certainty are silly, illogical people.

this morning on the freeway i passed a youngish man who was stumbling along against traffic in the breakdown lane. maybe his car was disabled, but it was nowhere in sight. and he was heading the wrong way to get to a gas station. cars were passing him fast and close.

one doesn't expect to see a pedestrian going the wrong way on a freeway at 7:30 in the morning. so i called 911. i have no idea if help reached him before something bad happened.

***********

late update: turns out the wisconsin shooter attended the same high school in colorado that i went to. i find this news disturbing.

nothing makes sense. and that's no fun at all.

************

here's a picture of cute animals...

dogs and fawns don't usually play together.



one small step



"he who falls behind will be left behind."

done.

the running event i watched in 2010 thinking, "i can do that."

i can. i did.

redirect: in august, 2009 i had an acl reconstruction on my right knee. in july of 2010 i was still rehabbing, still struggling to get back to where i was pre-injury. it was pitiful and sad, unless you compare it to things that are actually pitiful and sad. in which case it was just silly and self-indulgent.

as we sat on the curb waiting for seattle's seafair torchlight parade to begin, a parade of runners went by, part of the annual 5k/8k event. and as unfit as i felt physically, mentally i wanted to compete.

not eventually. immediately. right that second. i mean, there were old people and overweight people and children running, right there in front of me. "if they can do that, i can do that," i thought, sullenly. "why am i not doing that?"

the moment passed. and a year went by. in that time, i returned to playing basketball, got into basketball shape, then realized i didn't really like playing basketball any more. about then, i stopped playing basketball and started running.

fast forward a year and hundreds of miles and half-a-dozen races. oh, look, it's time for the 2012 seafair torchlight 5k/8k. "let's do this thing," i didn't really say to myself. but i did sign up for the 8k, because it was there.

a half mile into it, my stomach started hurting something awful. it kept hurting the next three miles, and i was pretty sure my time was going to be just as awful. i started feeling better the last mile and a half, stomach-wise, but by that time i was spent. i crossed the finish line, stopped my watch, and didn't bother to look at it. after walking and drinking nuun and eating some blueberries i finally looked and saw "36:30." at that moment i experienced a small but finite interval of yay.

my target time was 40 minutes~~and if everything went perfectly, i thought i might manage 35 minutes. things didn't go perfectly, or anywhere close to it, so 36:30 felt like a gift.

doesn't matter. what does matter is that i ran with the people i once watched. and i was faster than several of them. not that i'm competitive or anything.
**********

NO                1929
NAME            Michael Miller
AGE              51
SEX               M
DIVISION        M 50-54
OVERALL      187/3744
DIVPL            13/96
SEXP             155/1872
CHIP              36:30
PACE             7:21

posers, guns and money



"we drive while texting and smoking and
drinking and applying eye liner. we're
the people who should be packing heat?"

the national rifle association says it's a civil rights organization.

it says it defends america's second amendment right to keep and bear arms.

the national rifle association is full of big, fat liars.

what they really defend is the unfettered ability of weapons manufacturers to make piles of money flooding america with arms and ammunition. the nra will not rest until it has put a gun in the cold, dead hand of every american killed in a frenzy of constitutionally protected gunfire.

it's what the founders would've wanted, after all.

funny thing about that second amendment. it doesn't say every american has a right to an arsenal. no, what it says is this:

A well regulated militia being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed.

back in the day, see, when the framers were farmers and farmers were fighters, there existed the real possibility that the british or the native americans or, oh-i-don't-know, the jamaican bobsled team, might try to squash the nascent nation and its annoying declarations about "freedom" and "self-governance" and "no taxation without representation." there was big money at stake, and no lot of ignorant colonists were going to disrupt the flow of cash back to the royal treasury!

so, given the times and the context and the disorganized state of the states, it made perfect sense that the populace should be armed and ready to fire wildly, make a lot of noise, and generally run around in confusion. kind of like today's hunters.

in order to form a more perfect union, then, it was agreed that your garden variety colonist would be encouraged, indeed expected, to keep a musket and balls and powder. in the event of an actual emergency, they would be instructed where to assemble, which direction to face, and at which red coat to shoot.

two hundred and fifty years later, times have changed. yes, really! america is the proud owner of the most powerful military in the history of history. we have enough guns and explosives to render the world uninhabitable many times over. we spend more on high-tech weapons of mass destruction than the next 20 nations combined (and most of those countries are u.s. allies). because this is true, there is zero case to be made~~none~~for a civilian militia as described in the constitution. and if there were, it would be called...wait for it...the national guard!

which brings us back to the second amendment...

A well regulated militia being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed.

a well regulated militia, being necessary to the security of a free state, etcetera, etcetera. a well regulated militia. even if you could make the case, with a straight face, that every american is responsible enough to be trusted with an ak-47 with armor-piercing ordnance in a high-volume magazine (you can't make that case, but let's just say you could), you would also be required to argue, second amendment-wise, that these armed disparates constitute a well regulated militia.

you can't make that case, either. i mean, let's face it, most of us can't figure out a television with two remotes. we can't, generally, safely handle uncooked poultry. and we can't, collectively, keep from shooting ourselves and each other with guns (over 30,000 u.s. gun deaths per year, in case you wonder).

anyone who tells you different is selling something. in this case, it's the nra, and they're selling america death while hiding behind the flag. wiping away crocodile tears with one hand after every fresh massacre, madly punching keys at the atm with the other.

our elected officials, meanwhile, piously send prayers to the victims and their loved ones, while simultaneously promising the gun lobby nothing will be done to curtail the flood of arms or the river of blood.

there's big money at stake, after all, and no lot of ignorant constituents will disrupt the flow of cash back to the corporate treasury.

**************

did that sound bitter? it felt bitter coming out of my fingertips. i'm tired of the killings, which are entirely predictable and increasingly too close to home. i grew up about ten minutes away from where the shootings took place in aurora, co. which means not far from the site of the shootings at columbine. we live not far from the cafe racer, where five people recently were killed, and right up the hill from where two teens were shot last week.

i'm tired of the louis gohmerts and russell pierces and "american family associations" of the world telling people that the wanton killings in the land can be blamed on too few guns and too little jesus. too few guns and too little jesus. right. because jesus clearly would be preaching the gospel of the .357 magnum. note to louis and russell and family folks: fuck you. no, seriously. your faux christianity and mewling obeisance to the gun lords makes you no better than the psychos pulling the triggers.

**************

there's no end to this post. no neat, tidy wrap-up. because the latest tragedy will result in no meaningful action whatsoever. because our legislators are inert, we will all go back to our collective televisions and wait for the next inevitable atrocity. after which we will have this conversation all over again. and so on and so on.

we americans are well regulated, that much is certain. but not in the way we imagine. not at all.

upside down, right side up, and somewhere in between

i had a good weekend.

no, i had a bad weekend.

no, come to think of it, i had a great weekend.

backstory. the weekend was full of mostly not-blog-worthy activities. i ran. we walked the dogs. we loaded up at the farmer's market. but, you know, we always do those things.

we watched the mariners shut out the rangers. seven-zip. that hardly ever happens. we attended a ridiculously good concert, lyle lovett at chateau ste. michelle. that was noteworthy.

oh, and for awhile i thought a friend was dying.

then i found out he's not.

the dying part was devastating. i mean, obviously. i cried like a child. i mentally composed a blog post that made me cry more. i was crushed.

later that evening it turned out that i had completely jumped to conclusions on the basis of very incomplete information. and viola! he's not dying. yay!

that's where things get odd. there was no "yay!" moment. once the good news was conveyed, i quickly folded it into my world view, and went busily on. without missing a beat. the turnabout was almost comical.

only after many hours did it hit me what had happened.

the ordeal was a product of my imagination, but still, as far as i knew it was completely real. my reaction reflected just how important this person is to me. what's unreal is how quickly i recovered when the bad news turned into good news. he's not dying? okay, cool, hey what's for dinner?

in less than 24 hours, i experienced a stunning, even miraculous turnaround. in a few blinks of an eye, untimely death turned back into life. whiplash-like i went from full-on grieving to...business as usual.

where was my equal-but-opposite emotional reaction? nowhere to be found.

somewhere between death and life i was cheated out of a jolt of joy. or a rush of relief. even a bolus of endorphins would have been acceptable. but i got {crickets}.

i suppose i know why. once i got the homerun, i took my eye off the ball. i didn't take time to acknowledge and celebrate something actually worth celebrating. the most important event of the last hundred weekends was brushed past in favor of what? trifles.

this is, however, a teachable moment~~and i am willing student. the lesson for me is this: there will be plenty of times life will turn us upside down and shake us. if we're going to give the times of grief their due, we better give equal time to the yay moments as well.

while we have the chance.

"You know, we just don't recognize the most significant moments of our lives while they're happening. Back then I thought, well, there'll be other days. I didn't realize that that was the only day." ~~archie graham, field of dreams

this one goes to 13.1

the 2012 seattle rock n roll half marathon is in the books.

so is the 2012 seattle rock n roll full marathon, but i didn't run that race, so we'll speak of it no further.

at least three very good things happened during the race i did run:
1. i finished
2. i finished in less than 2 hours
3. it didn't rain

you might think, "those are some very good things, all right, but were there any that weren't about you?" yes! there were other good things, things that had nothing whatsoever to do with me...

for example, i ran with three people, a friend and two of her friends. they all finished, and one of them established a new PR for the half. it didn't rain on any of them, either.

also, none of us fell down or had a myocardial infarction or ran off the course in a state of delirium. (ed. note: that set was kind of about me, but only tangentially.)

i don't know if bad things happened to any of the other 22,000 runners. that's a lot of runners, though, so just by sheer volume you'd have to think that somebody might've thrown up or fallen into a storm drain or been chased by a rabid bat. something.

the people from the rock n roll race series did a good job here in seattle (this is in contrast with the job they reportedly did on their las vegas event, which like many a trip to las vegas, did not end well. this post is not about las vegas. why do i keep typing "las vegas"?)

the people from the rock n roll race series did a good job here in seattle. there were bands playing on every mile of the course, there were lots of nice volunteers handing out water and gatorade, it didn't rain, and i saw not even one rabid bat. which is just as well, because people and rabid animals don't mix well under many circumstances, and a distance race is one where they don't. i can't think of any where they do, at the moment.

i'm stalling here, can you tell?

it's because i didn't do as well as i wanted to and expecting to, and i don't really want to get to that part of this post. but i'm pretty sure i can't expect you to keep reading about bad things that didn't happen and the fortuitous lack of rain in seattle.

i didn't make my goal time.

there, that wasn't so bad. but there's more.

not only didn't i make my goal time, i didn't beat my time at the half marathon i ran six weeks ago. in fact, i ran seattle a full 60 seconds slower.

these facts have left me feeling a little disappointed. a little cranky, even.

how stupid am i?

the fact is, out of 22,000 runners, i finished 1,164th. i'm no mathematician, but i think that's pretty good. if ever math and statistics could make me happy, this should be one of those times!

there's more...

pace over the first 5k: 8:36
5k-10k: 8:26
10k-10m: 8:14
10m-13.1m: 8:04
look at that! the second half of the race was significantly faster than the first half. this is a good indication that i did something right training-wise and conditioning-wise.

so, i really shouldn't be all disappointed and demoralized…

still, a full minute slower!

***********
okay, it's now three days later, and i'm not as disappointed. i've reconciled the fact that my finish was the result of what experienced runners call "bad race management." if i had started at a better pace, there would be only joy and satisfaction, instead of lingering regret.
 
i ran. i finished. i will run again.
 
these are good things.
 
the end.

***********

(still...sixty seconds!)

cher and cher alike

you know who's had an improbable, implausible life?

cher.

(don't pretend you saw this post coming.)

imagine pitching a screenplay of her life...you'd get laughed out of every gin joint in every town around the world.

"so, here's what i'm thinking...it's a rags-to-riches story about a girl who comes out of nowhere to date warren beatty, marry sonny bono, and record hit songs across six decades. she stars in a hugely successful variety show on tv, wins emmys and grammys and oscars...incredible, right? but there's some bad stuff, too. she gets divorced from sonny, marries and divorces gregg allman, then speed-dates a bunch of other people, from gene simmons to tom cruise. later, sonny dies in a tragic skiing accident, after being elected to congress as a republican. there's probably no relationship between those two things, though...i'm still working on that part."

"there's also a part where her child transgenders from an adorable little girl into an overweight guy (not that there's anything wrong with that)."

"eventually she becomes an american icon, instantly recognizeable by her first name, worth hundreds of millions of dollars, minus a few hundred grand for tattoos and cosmetic surgery...all this from a girl with a big heart, a big voice, and a big nose from nowheresville. well mr. demille...what do you think?"

"it's completely implausible, kid. no one would ever believe such a cockamamie bunch of baloney. get out of here!"

****************

anyway, the girl and i were watching "burlesque" this week, and it occurred to me that of all the fictional female characters in all the movies ever made, most don't compare to cher's real life. that, and at 65 she can still belt out a song.

****************

"If I'd had as much plastic surgery as they say, you know, like I've got ass implants and calf implants and cheek implants. I've had the same cheeks my entire life. No butt lifts. No ribs removed. Having said that, if I want to put my tits on my back, it's nobody's business but my own."

~~cherilyn sarkisian

a boy named sue

come and play with us danny.
forever and ever and ever.

apparently you can sue someone for scaring you.

it says here that 10 passengers are suing jetblue airlines because a jetblue pilot went, uh, slightly off-course during a flight.

which is to say he wandered through the cabin babbling incoherently about things other than flying over the grand canyon, cruising altitude, and keeping seatbelts fastened.

this frightened the passengers (and probably the rest of the crew), and understandably so. because, while it's disconcerting to see a homeless person on the street babbling incoherently, it's also kind of expected. when the captain of your flight does it, it's disturbing. in a scary way.

but do we really have a legal right not to be scared?

if we do, i'm hiring a lawyer, stat.

guy on the freeway drifting into my lane at 70 mph while talking on your cell phone? you're totally sued.

pajama-wearing teenager spending all day on the computer, drinking soda and eating popcorn? sorry son, you're sued.

pit bulls. guns. chain saws. you can't handle the truth.

severed achilles tendons. torn knee ligaments. idiopathic thoracic pressure? lawyer up.

the word 'avulsion.'

screenwriter, director and cast of "the shining"? sued. (especially those twins with the huge foreheads. sheesh.)

overpaying for mediocre wine.

aneurysms, stroke, cancer. fuck you, and please enjoy this nice legal document.

you know, come to think of it, one needn't actually be frightened to sue for emotional distress. on that basis, i could sue the seattle mariners for being so awful for so long.

months of cold, dark, wet pacific northwest weather? we'll see you in court.

onions? i've hated you for a long time. decades. you bastards owe me.

if this jetblue thing turns out to be legit, the possibilities are endless.

but i'm afraid it won't.

i should sue.

desaturation point

the dirty water washes down

poisoning the common ground

taking sins of farm and town

and bearing them away

the captains of industry

and their tools on the hill
they're killing everything divine
what will I tell this child of mine?

~don henley

***********************

it's done.

i just cleared out my twitter account.

i couldn't take any more politics and propaganda and dogma-porn. so i unfollowed 25 sources of news and opinion tweets.

i know: woo hoo.

but every so often you have to climb up out of the cesspool and shower off. with disinfectant soap.

soon i'll be as unqualified to comment on political issues as 99% of americans. i will be a low-information voter.

next: unsubscribing from the email lists.

that will take longer.
***********************

disclaimer: historically this won't last. eventually, inevitably i start jonesing for another hit of ginned-up hysteria and faux drama. and i jump back in.

bring me the head of bambi garcia

it was a cake, but it was more.
with the addition of the hunter, and his prey,
it was a reflection of all that was good in birthdays,
and cakes, and killing badly outgunned prey.

"Fish," he said, "you are a friend of the old man and he kills you. It is love, this killing. I cannot knot. If you cannot knot, you cannot truly kill your love."

The young man thought that if only the old man were here, but he is not. He remembered the last words of the old man: "Cuidado los quitos!"

~hemingway's nephew

******************

he liked things to make sense.

but in those days, fewer things seemed to make sense, and more seemed to resemble a hemingway parody contest.

this was troublesome at a time when good sense was increasingly insensate, or insensitive, or in absentia, and the examples were marching, legion.

for one, there was the ongoing and inexplicable and chaotic combination of guns and children. could there have been any doubt that children + guns was among the worst ideas since, say, lindsay lohan + tequila?

there could not. but that was just one opinion, of course. other people, with differing opinions, believed kids + guns = a party.

"They have birthday parties with go-karts and trampolines -- with proper education before going into a gun range, why not a birthday party?" said Texas gun range owner David Prince.

early indoctrination teaches children to treat guns with respect, they said. it teaches them to be careful with firearms. they (and by 'they' he meant "idiotas de muerta") probably would not use the word 'indoctrination,' because it sounded subversive and socialistic. at a time when those words had lost all meaning.

regardless, a review revealed 30,000 gun deaths in his country each year~~over 17,000 by suicide. about 1,000 accidental fatalities. leaving 12,000 intentionally inflicted gun deaths in the land of the free and the home of the grievously wounded. every year. or, a thousand per month, he thought through a booze-soaked forest of half-thought calculations.

oh, yes, they were very careful with their guns.

but why speak of unpleasantries when once there was talk of parties?

Some parents are already expressing concern over the new party spot. "It makes me very nervous," Dawn McMullan told ABC News' Dallas affiliate WFAA. "I think eight-year-olds, developmentally, can't tell the difference between play and reality sometimes."

let's be straightforward here, he said, where we are among friends and can speak straightforwardly and forthrightly~~there are many, many adults who cannot tell the difference between play and reality. some of them carry guns, and some of them teach children that guns are good and american and manifest destiny.

we can say this here, to one another, he said, because we are bold, and not afraid to speak of such things.

no matter how maddening and tragic they may be.

no matter how little sense they make.

********************

He noticed them first by the sound. You always notice them first by the sound. When you hear the sound, the sound that they make, your insides go all moist and soft.

"Hijos of mothers!" he swore.

They came in a feeding frenzy, lusting for blood, biting, sticking, sucking, defecating. He fought them with the only weapons he had. Arms flailed in wild slashing cuts, hands slapped and splattered red tissue, feet stamped great gouges in the good black swamp mud.

They were too much for him. He was a mass of welts and corrupted flesh. He felt defeated. They had taken his blood but he was not destroyed.

paycation

remember: they don't want to hear about it.

in extremely small doses, maybe, using very short words. beyond that, most people have no interest in your new obsession with {*whatever*}.

mine happens to be running, and every time i talk about it, i try to be hyper-attuned to the listener's tolerance level. typically it doesn't take long for their eyes to glaze over and for the lacquer to start cracking on their polite expression.

and i admit, i've become inordinately fascinated lately with shoes and tech gear and long training runs. i am aware that unless i'm talking to another runner, i may as well be talking about these things in silverback gorilla. the sounds are kind of interesting, in an unintelligible way, but pretty soon people get bored and wander to the next exhibit. muttering, "wow, he seemed almost human, didn't he?"

****************

with that in mind...let's type some more about running!

i'm looking to participate in an organized running event somewhere other than seattle. not just a getaway, a runaway. literally. and there's no shortage of options. running events have apparently become big business. they're everywhere, year-round. you're familiar with eco-tourism? this is, oh-i-don't-know, amble-tourism. from urban roads to backcountry trails, anywhere people can move in the same direction, sort of quickly, and with purpose only they understand.

i want to try it out. the only questions are, what can i afford and how much time will it take?

i mean, i'd like to go immediately to hawaii and run the first tropical trail event i can find. i looked into it...there's an array of such things, on every island, practically every weekend. entry fees are completely reasonable. woo hoo!

it all looks great, until you check into airfare. have you checked into airfare to hawaii lately? it's uncheap. hotels, ditto. if you can imagine such a thing.

no problem. it's a big world, and there are plenty of interesting options out there. for example, there's the rotary unity run, a 10-mile fundraiser for the soldotna, AK rotary club. you fly into anchorage, then rent a car (or hop a bush plane) 147 miles to the kenai peninsula. the trip alone would be reward enough, but then you get to run through some of the most scenic countryside anywhere.

yes, i'm actually thinking the running is part of the reward.

have you looked into airfare to anchorage lately? it's expensive! to fly to alaska! who in their right mind wants to fly to alaska?

in july there's a half-marathon in juneau, on douglas island, in the backyard of glacier bay national park. with views of mendenhall glacier and the gastineau channel. it costs $20 to enter. but with airfare and, say, four nights accommodations, suddenly it's around a million dollars. or thereabouts.

there's a 10-k trail run in whistler, bc, in august. i love whistler. and there's no airfare required! and the summer room rates at whistler/blackcomb are cheap! let's check out the course. hmm, looks pretty cool to me...and it features just 645 meters of elevation gain over the route. that's not much, right? i mean, how tough could that be over a mere 6.6 miles? wait...645 meters is over 2100 feet. so the route is basically vertical?

**********************

not to worry, i'll find something. but the fact that i'm even considering traveling and spending money to run is fantastical. even a few months ago the idea would've been preposterous. but, here we are. i'm actually enthusiastic about the idea of going to alaska. to run.

but...i know you prolly don't want to hear about it. and i appreciate the polite look you've been wearing on my behalf. you may want to touch up the lacquer around the eyes, though...

i know...wanna talk about politics?

i never meta analysis i didn't like

"Stay on pace & don't try to keep up with the youngsters." ~ derek s.

that's good advice, generally.

it's particularly good when you're running your first half marathon.

it's advice i had no trouble taking this past weekend, mostly because i felt like i had no choice. i mean, i had never run a half marathon before, distance-wise, let alone race-wise. the farthest i'd gone previously was a 10.5-mile training run the weekend before...so, i didn't know what to expect, how 13.1 miles would feel, or if i'd even be able to finish.

i thought i could...but (this will shock you, i know): there's often a significant difference between thinking about something and actually doing it.

the good news: the weather was perfect. not a cloud in the sky, start-time temperature about 55 degrees. this is seattle, after all...the chance of cold, dreary and wet any given day is about 90%.

also, mrs. spaceneedl got out of bed at 5:45 a.m. to drive to kirkland with me. on mother's day! crazy. and incredibly endearing.

the bad news? there was no bad news.

lining up in the starting corral (why do they call it a corral? are we animals? moo.), i relegated myself to the section marked, "8-12 minutes/mile expected time." there were a lot of very fit-looking people congregating around me, so however fast or slow i ended up running, i felt like i was in pretty good company. but my goal was to stay closer to the 8 than the 12, and...hey, we're moving!

mile 1: the start was slow. and crowded. there were runners ahead of me as far as i could see...which wasn't far, because there was a hill and a right turn not too far ahead. passing people was not really an option, because the was nowhere to pass to. the upside: not many people were passing me. ha!

mile 2: more hills, heading up. i thought this was going to be kind of a flat course. this is not flat. at all. where's the flatness? or some downness to go along with all the upness? the good news: the pack was thinning, stringing out, as people slowed on the hills. conveniently, i did a lot of hill training over the past few months. the bad news: still no bad news.

mile 3: i don't remember much about mile 3, other than it seemed a lot like miles 1 and 2. with slightly less upness, maybe, and a little more downness.

mile 4: took a first look at my watch. whoa. about five minutes behind my target pace. not entirely good news. but in the big scheme of things, not really bad, either. the better news: the pack stretching out significantly. plus, some flatness.

mile 5: took another look at my watch. still behind, but making up time. an even distribution of upness and downness. interesting self-diagnostic: i'm actually better on the uphills than the downhills. i pass a lot more people on the up. and the down...hurts. wtf?

mile 6: i have no memory of mile 6. or mile 7, for that matter. i know i ran them, because i never left the course. aside from that? i got nothin'.

mile 8: i remember the mile 8 marker. i remember thinking, "eight miles already? huh. that went by quick." and then, "holy sh*t, there's still five miles to go..."

mile 9: i remember very little about mile 9.

mile 10: it was here i began to worry, a little. as mentioned earlier, my longest run previously was 10.5 miles. we would soon be entering tiger country. (note: no actual tigers in kirkland, as far as i know. then again, maybe they're eating the people who would report on such things. it's possible.)

mile 11: i remember mile 11. the highlight was a steep hill complete with a doubling-back hairpin turn. this was followed by a long, gradual ascent on a stretch of severely crowned road. which meant one foot was constantly, uncomfortably landing lower than the other. or higher than the other, as the case may be. either way, it sucked. additionally, the cones were set up to herd people into a narrow band on the side of the road, where the slope was even more pronounced. most people ignored the cones, getting as close to the middle flatness as possible. yeah, mile 11. not my favorite mile. except when compared to...

mile 12: remember the extreme uphill of mile 11? it was followed immediately and not coincidently by a comparable downhill stretch in mile 12. as unpleasant as mile 11 may have been, mile 12 was more so. my quads are feeling mile 12 today, every time i walk down the stairs. ow ow ow.

mile 13.1: as noted in mile 5, i had considerable time to make up if i was going to hew to derek's advice. and so, the last eight point one miles were an exercise in time management (not to mention an exercise in exercise). the good news: i was feeling surprisingly strong. my pace was quickening, my form felt sound, and there were some youngsters just ahead of me to keep up with. or (raising an eyebrow) ...to pass.

another look at my watch told me i had a good chance of making my target time, if i didn't fall down or otherwise handicap myself. some kind of strong emotion subroutine was running in the background of my brain, but i ignored it. "stay on pace and don't pay attention to subroutines," i didn't really say to myself.

i passed a couple of young women who had been ahead of me for the last two miles or so, leaving one thirty-ish guy to catch.

he seemed stubbornly disinclined to be caught, staying about ten yards in front of me. suddenly, a vision of derek s. appeared. "you don't need to pass this youngster," his voice echoed in my brain. "stick to your plan." 

"i don't need to pass this youngster," i agreed, hypnotically. "i just need to stick to my plan."

plans are good. passing the thirty-something youngster with about a hundred yards to go was better. finishing a minute and a half ahead of my goal? better still.

i left the course, looking for the missus in the crowd. there she was, walking toward me, saying something about not getting the photo when i crossed the finish line. i was oblivious, mostly, because i was busy hugging her and crying.

"what's wrong?" she asked.
"i don't know," i snorfled.
pause...
"are you okay?"
"yes...i feel great."

the good news: the crying thing lasted just a few moments. and then i smiled.

a lot.

the bad news: there was no bad news.

****************

results:
# 794
Michael Miller
division: M 50-59
overall finish: 157/946
division place: 8/43
time: 1:48:30
pace: 8:18

the end of the weekend

calm down. i'm not saying they're doing away with weekends. i'm just saying this one is nearly over. and i'm getting irritable. does this happen to everybody? i could certainly understand and empathize, if that were the case. as long as your little end-of-weekend fit of pique doesn't get anywhere near me. because, you know, fuck you. (see? that's what i'm talking about.) the fact is, i've had a great weekend. the mariners won both days, and we attended saturday's win. felix hernandez threw 8 innings of one-hit ball, and it didn't rain. moreover, kate and i ran 5.5 miles through discovery park, which never fails to rejuvenate. plus i did a bunch of chores that had to be done. still on saturday. then, today happened. and it was even better than saturday. crazy, right? the mariners won again, and i did more chores. i mowed, shopped for groceries, did laundry, and ran 10.5 miles. all in one day! it should be noted that i've never before run 10.5 miles all at once. but i did it today. that alone would have made today exceptional. but as noted above, that was but one part of the larger story! crazy. plus, the weather was tolerable. not great, especially saturday, but not awful, either. it was chilly, particularly at the game. multiple layers and more than one beer were unable to fend off the cold. but at least the mariners won. did i mention that? today was warmer, though still not what i'd call "warm." warm, see, involves more degrees farenheit than 62. still, it was tolerable, and fairly ideal for running ten and a half miles. all at once. now, after an amazing dinner prepared by mrs. spaceneedl, i'm eating a chocolate chip cookie and drinking some decent red wine. and the denver nuggets are beating the hated los angeles lakers. all in all, a truly fabulous weekend day. which will inevitably end with a thoroughly unwelcome and annoying monday morning. which is why i'm irritable. i mean, obviously.

vital signs

i washed my hands afterward half a dozen times.

it still didn't seem like enough.

i dislike cadaver lab.

don't get me wrong...i understand the value of the research. i respect the people who contribute their earthly remains to the cause of science. and i appreciate the opportunity to participate in the work.

i just wish i didn't have to be there for it.

most of the time, i'm fine. as long as i keep my eyes on the instruments and the monitors and the activities of the physicians. but that's not possible 100% of the time. and if i get even a little distracted from those things, i notice the person on the table in front of us. and for just a few moments, my imagination kicks on.

i conjure up a life for him. a smiling, bright-eyed wife. a son he taught to throw a baseball. a daughter he taught to ride a bicycle. a mother who held him when he was a boy.

sometimes a vivid imagination is less an asset than it is a curse.

the unwelcome images flash past me in half a second. their effect on my heart lasts longer. none of it is reconcilable with what's happening on the table. or with the cardboard box, lined with black plastic, on the gurney nearby.

near as i can tell, no one else is similarly distracted. the physicians chatter away with a detached, clinical demeanor. the engineers are professional, moving with purpose from one task to the next. i circle the table, taking pictures, tracking the conversations. i hover over the subject, within inches, as the work goes on.

my iphone contains dozens of images i would like to simply delete. instead, i will have to download and archive them for others to review. much as i'd rather, i can't imagine assigning such a task to somebody else.

the lab lasted two-plus hours that went by in the blink of an eye. toward the end, i was offered, and accepted, one of the devices, and used successfully it on the subject.

by "successfully," i mean "my eyes never left the monitor."

**********

this morning the missus and i walked the dogs down to the village, like we do every weekend. we went to the bakery, as we usually do, ordered coffee and a piece of quiche and a walnut raisin roll.

after a while, a frail, elderly man with a cane hobbled through the door and eased himself onto the bench a couple tables away. he looked over at me looking at him, and gave me a little smile. i smiled a little and nodded back.

but i will tell you, what i really wanted to do at that moment was get up and run out the door.

contortions, convolutions and miscalculations: fun with gymnastics

reason for absence: view-monia.

live-blogging the washington state gymnastics finals, 2012

we're here at glacier peak high school, home of the grizzlies...and the best cafeteria view i've ever seen.

seriously, these kids have a 30-foot high wall-of-windows view, across a wide verdant valley, of the north cascades mountains. it's ridiculous. if i were teaching here, i'd hold every class in the cafeteria. if i were a student...well, i'd be arrested for impersonating a student. but if i were a student, i'd be late for every class, staring out at this ridiculous view.

we're not in the cafeteria, however, we're in the gym. it's hot in here. unlike every other metro seattle gymnastics meet ever, where you can't wear enough layers to stay warm through three hours of sitting, shifting, sitting some more...suddenly it's uncomfortably warm.

i'm not complaining.

the falcons from seattle pacific university, decked out in their usual purple and lighter purple and silver sparkles, are ready for this meet. they're peaking at the right time, competition-wise, in that they're here and there's a meet going on.

after march-in, in which the gymnasts, um, march into the gym, the host and announcer usually says, "and now everyone please rise for the national anthem." i was literally shifting into a nonsitting position in anticipation of the ritual, when the guy said, "okay, we did the national anthem earlier today, so we're going to get right to the events. gymnasts, let's move out."

i feel strangely unsatisfied and anxious now. apparently i'm a creature of habit.

the first event for the falcons is the vault. in this instance, the vault is a quick run down a blue bowling alley lane, launching off a springboard into a handstand, followed by a flop onto a four-foot-high cushion. it looks like it would be a great place for a nap, if it weren't for the constant stream of gymnasts flying around and raising a ruckus.

avery is good at this flopping. this year she's put up a string of 9+ scores in this event, setting a high standard for springboard flopping. the score is based on the average of two running flopping attempts. our girl ran fast, flopped expertly, and came away with a 9.025.

"great flopping, AG!" her mom and i didn't really yell. it's best not to distract her with that kind of unnecessary embarrassment.

in between events, there's a lot of waiting. this is particularly true at gyms that have no heat in winter and no AC on freakishly warm spring days.

we're sitting, we're sitting, we're waiting. we're sweating...and not with nervousness. must. not. doze...

holy moly, it's time for the bars. i must've dozed. avery's up! get the video rolling! focus! she's launching!

this seems like an opportune time to note that "bars" is a bit of a misnomer here. yes, technically they're competing on the uneven parallel bar apparatus, but at no time do they actually touch the upper bar. it's all-low-bar all the time for the level 4 gymnasts. which is just as well. avery is neither confident nor proficient in this event. every meet, there's some disastrous error/miscalculation/equipment failure that keeps her off the medal stand.

she over-rotates, she under-rotates, she forgets to stick the landing. this despite my excellent, season-long imitation of olympic announcers who thrill tv audiences with, "she sticks the landing!" whenever a gymnast does, in fact, stick the landing.

back to the bars. she's doing pretty well. she's neither under- nor over-rotating. she's yet to hang upside down when she should be right-side-up. all that's left is the landing...

she didn't stick the landing. she did, in fact, fall on her butt. there's gonna be a deduction for that, i'm pretty sure. and the scoreboard says...8.575. that's gonna keep her off the medal stand. barring huge, breakthrough scores on beam and floor.

where there are more events, there is hope.

nothing's happening now. the falcons have moved over to the vicinity of the beam, so we can only assume their next event is beam-related. it just wouldn't make sense to have them warm up on beam if their next event was floor. so, the team moved moved from a seated position under the washington state championships banner to the doors near the beam. then they moved to the wall next to the beam, and resumed sitting. nothing's happening.

we sit. we shift. we note, once again, that it's warm in here.

now seems like a good time to get up and leave the gym. hit the restroom. take some iphone photos of the ridiculous cafeteria view. stand by...

...and we're back. turns out, i missed the event. the falcons had, in fact, warmed up while i wasn't looking. no, i wasn't dozing. so almost immediately after i left, the team raced through their beam routines. i caught the very last one, and it wasn't avery. according to the missus, she wobbled like a weeble but did not fall off. this was not good enough for a breakthrough score. she received an 8.75.

perhaps there's a 10.0 on floor in our future. that might get her on the stand. probably not. we wait. no, i'm not leaving the gym.

********

it was a solid floor routine, but not a ten. the girl's final score on the final event of the year was a respectable 8.75.

and on the final tumbling pass, with the compulsory back handspring...

she stuck the landing.

the kate escape

you know who likes running?

my dog.

kate loves getting out of the house and away from her pack-mates. they're barky little dogs, and kate isn't much into the barking. she's smart and affable and disinclined to scurry around yapping every time a raindrop hits the house.

so, a couple times a week we gear up and head over to discovery park, a semi-sane place where people and dogs and other wildlife can go be bucolic for awhile. to forget, temporarily, that we live just a jog from downtown and jammed-up traffic and foolish urban errands.

i say, "kate, go for a run?" and she heads toward the door, waiting for her leash. she does a little dance and bursts out the door ahead of me, like a racehorse at the gate. and so we go.

i keep her on the leash most of the time, but if there aren't too many people about (i.e., when the weather sucks), i let her off to run. i wasn't sure what to expect the first time i did that, semi-worried she'd disappear into the woods after a squirrel. nope. she stays right with me, within a few feet ahead or behind. i find that very endearing.

in the park, we transition from road to paved trail to dirt trail, winding our way through woods, over hills, always in sight of water to the west. on a clear day, the olympic mountains glow crystal white across the sound, breathtaking. and so we go.

the vet says kate is built for five to seven miles of running, tops, so we keep our little journeys to 4.5 - 5.5 miles. i'm now "training" for a half-marathon in june, so on "long run" days of eight, nine, a dozen miles, i'll have to leave her home.

running alone, i wear headphones and listen to music. with kate, the headphones stay home and we talk to each other. yes, i do most of the talking, but she communicates very well...

"i need to slow down a bit."
"i'm thirsty."
"i'm going to roll in this grass now."
"i have to pee."

(note: those are the things i say to her. generally, she just says, "whatever, dude.")

kate was a rescue. she was abused early in life, and when we got her at six months old, she was like some feral creature that didn't even know she was a dog. it was the little dogs who taught her how to be part of the pack (for which i'll always be grateful...even if they are yappy little dogs).

that was two and a half years ago. people who met kate back then can't believe how much she's changed. the dog who cowered and cringed and feared every unfamiliar sound has transformed into a confident, attention-seeking biscuit-hound. "she's a completely different dog," they say, perhaps thinking such a thing was impossible.

she still doesn't like loud noises, but then again, neither do i. which is another reason the park and its quietude and expansive breathability are so appealing. also...i'm grateful for the company. much better than the headphones.

kate likes running.

and so we go.

on the dark side

organized religion is adorable.

it's so full of enlightening enlightenment that its subscribers don't know whether to joyfully celebrate or go on a five-state killing spree.

so, obviously, sometimes they do both. just to make sure their spiritual behinds are covered.

other times they merely meander about, spreading the gospel-as-they-see-it. the results are usually hilarious. or sad. or alarming.

the yoga thing, for example. denominations from baptist to muslim to oh-i-don't-know, seventh-day krishnas have condemned the practice as wicked. or heretical. or just too darn much fun and too good for you to be anything but evil.

as a sometimes-practioner of and benefitter from yoga, i can confirm that it is, indeed, mystical. magical. other-worldly. it has powers beyond the understanding of most humans, and several species of kelp. it can restoreth health and sootheth the soul in ways you didn't even know you needed. the best part is, it happens from the inside out, rather than the opposite, which confuses and frightens some people.

and that is why the perniciously pious would like to shoo people away from the practice--they don't understand it and cannot control it.

or, it could be because the typical yoga class is populated by scads of scandalously clad yogis, a transgression over which righteous folks tend to feign horror. and, to be honest, healthy, scandalously clad people practicing yoga are a distraction...unless you're doing it right. in which case, you know, om.

**********

it's interesting how many people, instead of celebrating life, prefer to celebrate death. then again, what do i know? maybe that's how they celebrate life...by re-enacting horrific-tragic-death-things. it helps them feel like they're more alive than dead people.

titanic cruise, anyone?

see, you go out in a big boat, recreating all the fun of the titanic's maiden voyage (okay, its only voyage, for those of you keeping score).

like this:

The organizers are trying to capture the onboard experience — minus the disaster — including the food and a live band playing music from that era, in a tribute to Titanic's musicians who reportedly played their instruments until the ship sank.

While on board, passengers also will dine on meals based around dishes served in April 1912, with a formal dinner on April 13 made up entirely of dishes served aboard the Titanic.

note the very careful "minus the disaster" clause. this is probably to avoid lawsuits from passengers who bought their ticket expecting a terrifying collision with an iceberg, followed by a fatal plunge to the bottom of the ocean. wouldn't want to mislead those folks.

also, note that the voyage is carefully orchestrated to mirror the rest of the titanic onboard experience. the costumes, the food, the band, the music...and yet, inexplicably, some people are questioning the, um, propriety of the venture.

which is crazy, obviously. even if tickets cost up to $9,500 and the whole thing sounds like a mel brooks movie.

"I don't think the cruise is morbid. It's like saying Gallipoli is morbid or commemorating the (Crimean) war," said Carmel Bradburn, 55, who is from Australia. "Remembering those who died is not morbid."

which is true. remembering them isn't morbid. at all. a creepy recreation of the voyage of the damned? that's morbid. ghoulish, even. ("guess what, mabel? i've booked us a fabulous cruise on the love-death boat!")

sidebar: auschwitz. the killing fields. pearl harbor. you know what these places have in common? lots of people died there. that, and they're all big tourist destinations. really. look it up.

the difference would seem to be that those places aren't choreographing unintentionally funny re-enactments of the atrocities. (though it appears that the cambodian government is going all-in with a khmer rouge theme park nearby. divine!)

then again, in a world where anything goes if there's money to be made, maybe these people are missing the boat (see what i did there?). maybe what's missing from these solemn, respectful memorials is the chance to experience the sensation of being trapped below deck in a burning ship, or role-playing scenes from sophie's choice.

what? no? too much free-wheeling capitalism? tell that to the folks at the holy land theme park in beautiful orlando, where you can watch a blood-splattered jesus being crucified and resurrected six days a week! but never on sunday. obviously. that would be an outrage.

**********

breathe.

that's a big part of what you learn in yoga. just...breathe. in. out. focus on being present and balanced. embody a state of wellbeing. move fluidly, languidly, with just enough purpose to feel the heat of your qi.

that i can write this without a hint of irony or self-consciousness is testimony to the blasphemously euphoric effect yoga can have on one's soul. it's that, or my sad susceptibility to the insidious seduction of sin. (a lot of esses there...soundsss like a ssssnake...)

either way...namaste.

oh, yay : day

"it's colonoscopy day!"

that's what the tweet said, but the exclamation point was disingenuous. i wasn't excited about it. at all.

still, it had to be done, and there was no need to set a bad example. or to make it seem worse than it was.

okay, drinking a quick gallon of gastrointestinal drano was unpleasant. and yes, the results were slightly alarming ("i don't remember eating that!").

doesn't matter. part of the process.

you know what else is part of the process? "conscious sedation." that's where the patient is whacked out on versed to the point that they allow a tube and a light and a camera to go where such things are not generally welcome.

most patients, i was informed, sleep through the whole thing. others remain chatty during the procedure~~though they don't remember the conversation (or the procedure) later.

apparently i was chatty. the nurse says it went something like this:

me (reading monitor): my blood pressure is 110 over 74...that's pretty good, right?
they: yes, it is.

me (still reading monitor): my heart rate is 45 beats per minute. that's pretty low, right?
they: yes, it is.

me (recalling a random point on the patient information sheet): so, i really can't have wine with dinner tonight?
they: push a little more versed on mr. miller, please...

i remember none of these things. i don't think they really happened.

but you know, as confirmed earlier, a bp of 110 over 74 and a resting heart rate of 45 bpm are pretty darn good. more importantly, the exam revealed just one small polyp~~benign.

so, to commemorate what we've forgotten, ameliorate that which we'd rather forget, and celebrate the blessing of good health...

tonight's bland, easy-to-digest dinner will be accompanied by one (1) very good glass of wine.