In the Forests of the Night

Three months pass quickly! I would like to say that it goes by more quickly now than it did when I was ten, but that wouldn't be entirely true. My dad is an accountant, so I've always been innately aware of the short spanse of time that is three months. I remember thinking, "Didn't he just DO quarterlies? Why is he doing it again?" Clearly, this was before I could tolerate the joy of relentless repetition the way I do now. Now, the routine is comfortable. It's when routine is suddenly disrupted that I fall apart.

Today, I accidentally hit "blogger" when I logged onto my google account. It's been EXACTLY three months since my last post. This must be some sort of a sign, right? Sign or no, I can't pass up the opportunity to post another chain of silly words today--I like to think of it as my personal Quarterly Report. Plus it makes the random act of clicking on "blogger" less disruptive to my senses.

Only, it doesn't make typing this post any easier. I really have nothing TO report. Ho Hum. Hum.... Ho. oH. Palindrome. Huh. Look, another one! Crazy.

What fearful symmetry. The radio whispering in the background has something to report: "It's all about Tiger Woods tonight." Poor, poor...

Tyger, tyger burning bright...

Misplaced Modifiers

Today, from my "personalized" horoscope, comes an example of a sentence with a misplaced modifier. See if you can spot the error:

You may meet someone who lives far away at a party, and be invited to visit them at a later date.

When you've got it, type a corrected version of the sentence in my comments. You may also include explanations in your comments as to why you agree or disagree with this prediction as one suitable for my personality and lifestyle (please site reasons beyond the scope of the grammatical error).

Guess Not!

Recently, it came to my attention that I still have this blog out here in cyberspace. Two months ago I momentarily thought I was ready to get back at it. You can see how that actually turned out. I'm stopping in to say hello before I head out the door for yet another incredibly short run.

What seems like a long time ago, I posted an update on Facebook that had something to do with two miles hardly being worth the effort of lacing up the shoes. With the passing of time comes the advantage of wisdom: Two miles is better than none, and one must ALWAYS lace the shoes to avoid tripping.

Tripping. I must make a better effort to avoid doing that. Which reminds me...

Back In

So I made it back inside safe and sound and dry...except for the sweat. The wind challenged me to a battle on the way home. I won! All in all, it was a good run. Glad I got outside, and getting out made me realize that where running is concerned, it's easier to stay out once you get out. Kind of like blogging, I guess. It's easier to not blog, and the longer between bouts of blogging, the easier it is to avoid it all together. On the flip side, once you start, well...

Advice: If You're Going to Get Out, Get Out Now

My therapist friend likes to say, "It's easier to stay out than to get out." This might be true this morning. I hope not. I don't like being cold and wet.

9:31 a.m. severe storm warning. On and off bouts of rain drops.

I had it set in my mind to run outside this morning, and I just can't shake it, so I'm off! I'll report back in about an hour. If I don't, that means I've been struck by lightning or stranded in some neighborhood by flying and falling trees. I'm thinking Dan Pope doesn't know his weather like Mark Eubank. I miss that old Eubank.

Tomato, Tomahto...

Several weeks ago, I decided to call the whole thing off, this tomato planting bit.  Sure, there's nothing like tomatoes fresh from the garden, but there's also nothing like tending to a garden all summer either.  Plus, with all the rain and my running project, I haven't really had time to prep the soil, buy the plants, dig the holes, stake the stems....excuses, excuses.

So, I was resolved that there would be no home grown tomatoes for me this season.  But then I went off and bought decoy tomatoes at the grocery store.  You know, the tomatoes that look like they are vine ripened because they are still on the vine, and because they are still on the vine, they smell like tomatoes fresh from the vine?  Of course, when I brought these decoy tomatoes home and cut into them, I discovered their true nature:  grocery store tomatoes.  I suspect they were refrigerated at some point on their journey from hard green lumps on a vine in a vat in the back of a van to hard red clumps on a vine on my kitchen counter awaiting slicing.  Nothing disappoints like a bad tomato.

On the bright side, this bad tomato was a reality check for me and my garden.  I realized the work and water are worth the reward.  Plus, if I didn't plant tomatoes, I would have an utterly empty garden bed nagging at me every time I glanced out my kitchen window, and I don't respond well to nagging.  Yesterday, I finally got the tomatoes in...staked and all!  Summer has officially begun.

Still Small Voices

I'm posting this tiny thought 

to reassure myself that I'm still out here.  

I need the reminder 

because the blogging voices 

that sometimes run around in my mind 

like children on a sugar high 

have all suddenly become 

very still and silent.