TMI -- totes to the max!

and then she goes, you need to get a colonoscopy, and i am all like, c'mon doc, but then she was like, just do it, so i was all oooookay if i haaaave to.

cause those things are a pain in the ass.

HAHAHAHA.

ahem.

anyhoo, i didn't want to do it, so i put it off a whole year, and went for my annual physical, and went through the whole conversation again.

ugh.

then, one day, i saw a commercial for this: cologuard.

colonoscopy at home!

IT'S A REVOLUTION!

i messaged my doc. that's right, messaged her. my doc works for vandy and they have a slick messaging system. anyway, i messaged my doc and asked, what about this cologuard - can it be a substitute for a colonoscopy? she was all, good question and yes it sure can and in fact we have an even better test here at the lab, you can come pick it up during regular business hours.

huh.

getting to the doctor's office during regular business hours is a royal pain but not quite as royal as a colonoscopy. like, a colonoscopy is the king of pain and getting to the doc at midday is the princess.

so i went on over there today, found a place to park, went in and asked at the information desk where could i get the "mail order colonoscopy thing". the info desk guy was all, riiiiight.... the colonoscopy department is over there. so i walked over there and asked for "that kit thingie where you can do the test at home" and the guy at the desk was all [blank stare].

so then i had to get directions to my doc's office because this place is hella mazey. i wound my way through the building to her office and the lab across the hall... and there i managed to ask for the "home fecal testing kit" #GROSS. the one lady at the desk had to ask another lady and the first lady literally said she forgot what i wanted and so i had to say it again, "home fecal testing kit" #GROSS. but that second lady, she just reaches in the desk and hands me an envelope.

AN ENVELOPE.

it's like 4"x6" and you can feel this tube thing inside.

ACK. ACK. ACK.




uh.


i'll just stop here. this is probably already more than you wanted to know.

it really doesn't get more serious than the bossman.

there are a lot of really serious things going on the world right now. if you are reading this like 50 years from now - which would be 2067 if you are really bad at math - then maybe you aren't aware of these haps, or maybe there are more serious haps in 2067 that make ol' 2017 pale by comparison. whatever. point is, for us now in this day and time, things are serious.

do you have google in 2067? well then, use it, bygod! google you up some 2017. .....see? serious. much more serious than all the things i blather on about... groceries, running, clothes. even when i wax philosophical, it's pretty shallow. it's not like i don't know that.

thing is, attempting to articulate my opinions on complex subjects in a small space such as this isn't going to end well. "small" or maybe flat, one dimensional, words only. there's no body language here, no facial expressions, no nuance. it won't end well because without me to interpret them, my words will be looking for someone else to do that job and they'll look around and find you, and in their eagerness to get interpreted, they won't be too picky about the interpretation you come up with.

that's just too dangerous.

so, instead, we will talk about bossman cookies & pies.

bossman: https://www.facebook.com/BOSSMAN-COOKIES-AND-PIES-130512163642247/

the bossman's truck is often parked at a place where i sometimes start my runs. so, i see the bossman's decal-emblazoned pickup a few times per week. today, i saw it, and my mind made up a song, and then for the next half hour or so, as i ran around the sidewalks, this totally made up song ran around and around and around my brain. i mean, totally made up out of the spare thoughts flotsaming and jetsaming around my wee tiny brain, and i mean, "around my brain" as in "on an endless freaking loop".

ENDLESS LOOP. people. that is serious.


here is the lyric:

bossman, bossman, bossman cookies and pies!
bossman, bossman, bossman cookies and pies!
pies and cookies from the bossman -
cookies and pies the same!
he's got the pies and the cookies,
and the bossman is his name!


and, for your listening pleasure: bossman song

crazy like a fox.

the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over & over again and expecting a different result.

i've been running again.

are these statements related?

i have run every day this week.

here's what i am doing differently this time.

1. pay more attention to hydration.
2. stretch at least ten minutes after every run.
3. take it easy. no sprinting. no steps. no tomfoolery at all.
4. no more than three miles at a pop.

insanity?

ppfth.

crazy like a fox.

there but for the grace of chaos

today at work a colleague fell down the stairs. granted it was only about five stairs, but the landing is concrete. she was going down the stairs as we all do, heard someone call her name from the top, turned to look up the stairs, lost her footing, grabbed for the handrail, missed, and fell.

in a matter of seconds, forget about driving yourself home, forget about going out with the gang after work, forget about that meeting you were headed to, forget about getting up off the floor. forget about your laundry, your friend's birthday, your oil change, your work assignment, your overdue library book, your lunch, your plans, your dignity. forget about all that and replace it all with the fact that you are lying on the floor, taking inventory of your breathing, trying to move your toes. and wondering what just happened. your entire focus is narrowed down to survival.

on the way to the gym after work, we were nearly caught in vehicle crossfire. a motorcyclist avoiding a sideswipe from another pickup came within a hair's breadth of our tailgate. he pulled his ineffectual motorcycle horn then skillfully dodged between the truck beds - ours standing still in the turn lane, the other moving towards him from traffic. it happened in a flash, and not exactly "like nothing happened" but we all went on with our day, with our plans, with our going places we needed to go and doing things we needed to do. 

one day completely changed. one day completely unchanged. why did my colleague get the short end of the stick? she's not a bad person, so why did something bad happen to her? maybe she was destined for something worse, and the fall was part of a plan that saved her from that, so what seems bad isn't actually bad... if you had access to this context. maybe it's a punishment for some hidden sin. or, unhidden - hell, i don't know her that well. maybe it's karma. maybe it's dumb luck. maybe it's part of a giant clockwork and some people are destined to get jammed in the cogs. maybe it's completely random.

getting it prairie style

when i put flour, coffee, sugar, butter on my grocery list, i feel very laura ingalls wilder. not that she was getting butter... they were probably churning butter. but i know they purchased coffee and sugar because i read about it in little house on the prairie. thing is, there's just something about composing a list of the basics... feels pioneerish, uncomplicated.

you know they weren't getting greek yogurt and bananas at mr cooper's general store. they weren't getting bottled water or air filters or tin foil or boned, skinned, de-feathered chicken carcasses. mr cooper didn't carry kleenex or coconut oil or velveeta.

one time when i was shopping with mini-me, we were procuring a cake mix because someone's (can't remember whose) birthday was in the offing. she was small enough to be sitting in that heinous wire cage some masochist invented for children to sit in while their parents grocery shop, which luckily the kids don't know any better and just sit there merrily... point is, small child very young. she says to me, what's in cake mix? and i am all like, well flour and sugar and probably powdered milk and salt.... and she is like, you mean we could MAKE a cake? and i am all, no no no - there are special cake ingredients we can't get.... ugh. is that child abuse?

i am not a basics kind of girl. i am a processed and packaged kind of girl. i mean, not processed like sweetarts and doritos... at least, not since high school. nowadays it's processed like fig newtons and shredded cheese and flatbread and greek yogurt in little serving-size containers. and when i need to bake a birthday cake, i get a cake mix plus icing in a can.

of course, my list does have one thing in common with that of the prairie dwelling ingalls -- coffee. and i even get it prairie style: whole bean, baby!

methods of running

i have been precluded from running for months now by circumstances well beyond my control, but this week i have been out three times. three, count 'em - three! in light of this momentous occurrence, i have put together the highlights of some of my myriad running styles. (note: by "playlist" i mean examples of the type of music running through my head. i never wear music while i am running because i am a real runner.)



tight-ass trainer

this sprightly stride is designed to tell the world that i am A Runner who is Obvs Taking An Easy Day. the hips are definitely tight for this one but the stride is smooth and long. i'm clearly talented and that is why this is so easy for me. a key element for this run is a straight back, so straight that i could carry around a copy of pride and prejudice on my head, and i don't mean the hardcover weighty library tome pride and prejudice. i mean that copy that was handed down from your brother because he was one grade ahead of you, so you had all the same reading lists he did, soon enough after him that you could read the same actual books as he did, even though he treated you like a booger that he couldn't get off his pinky finger. that copy. that chunky mass-market paperback with the curled up cover. my back is literally so straight and my ass is literally so tight that i could carry that janky book around on my head while i am running. and, look good doing it.

wardrobe: a matchy-matchy running skirt and tech top

playlist: sailing, africa, more than a feeling, everybody wants to rule the world, kiss on my list, soul sister

pace: hella fast



tired-ass trot

despite its alliterative alignment with the aforementioned tight-ass trainer, the tired-ass trot bears it little resemblance to its fellow. this gait says "i've been running several times this week already and i am about to compunctionally malfunction. i mean, i am tired. i mean i am literally so tired that i am about to pull a patsy cline and fall to fucking pieces. so tired... but hey. um... hey, whatnow. here i am still holding on to a stridelike motion. worn to the nub but yet, a runner." a key element here is holding everything together just enough to not fall apart, while maintaining a run: a gait wherein half the time both feet are off the ground. not shuffling. not walking. running. the steps can be close to the ground and can be bitty-baby short, but a runner's rhythm remains.

wardrobe: who cares? you're lucky i am even going out! i am so tired.

playlist: the sound of blood pulsing through my brain

pace: haha



happy-go-lucky hobbyjog
this is a joyous lark, a flit and float and fleetly fleeing flight! this bouncy bound says i am a naturally talented runner who doesn't even know how spectacular she is, just bobbing around town, la la la, out and about on a loose, jangling jog. it's key here to loosen up the hips and shoulders. let the arms swing. head bobbing is a-okay. the challenge is to maintain the bounce and jangle without landing in a heap and tangle. the hobbyjog is harder than it looks - what with all the relaxed hips and high steps, it can be quite a tax on the ol' hammies. accomplishing the bounce and jangle while beaming with the joy of flitting fancifully is damn hard work. but, so fun!

wardrobe: soccer shorts and cotton tee

playlist: happy jack, born to run, black coffee in bed, fat bottom girls, melt with you

pace: DON'T PRESSURE ME!



mad marathoner
this is nothing but a shuffle. shuffle through training and shuffle through the "race event". mile 1, shuffle. mile 15, shuffle. mile 25.8, shuffle. feet are low, face down to the path, arms tight to the sides like you're dying of broken ribs and can only hold them in with your elbows and forearms. barely maintaining the run-type gait, you shuffle. shuffle. shuffle.

wardrobe: that special outfit you bought just for the occasion

playlist - rubber tree plant ant song on endless loop

pace: finishing is all that matters

it's not the best "best western" i've been to...

i am currently out of town on business. weird saying... "out of town". i mean, i am in this other town, but out of my town. so. i am currently travelling on business. that's better.

i am currently travelling on business and am at a remodeled best western in a time zone where the sun doesn't set until after 9pm. it's currently 21:04, and the view out my window is thuslywise, ipso facto: sunset.

in the background, between the bob evans and the shell, there is a speedway where i perambulated for snacks. i came back with two grape G2s, a pack of blueberry belvita, and a banana. the cashier guy was young, lucid, and sweet, and even laughed at my obtuse joke, but sadly had the rotted teeth and spotty skin of a meth head. ah, middle america... your next generation is dying.

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this is the view coming up the stairs i went down to get to speedway and back up to return from speedway.

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this is a slightly awkward view of the landing. to the right of the door marked "2" is the staircase from the previous picture... i am looking back the way i came.

my point here is: spacious landing with framed picture.

i am fascinated by spaces like this. is this an on-purpose space, or a vestigial structure? were the landings made wide and spacious for some purpose, or is this simply the space that was left at the end of the hallway, perhaps a result of the aforementioned remodel? the framed art implies purpose, but how many people even use these stairs, and of those people, who would have use for spacious landings? maybe a travelling irish jig team that needs a place to practice. maybe the hotel staff does yoga here. maybe the builder messed the fuck up.

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LED spotlights make terrible bedside lamps.

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this picture is in the bathroom.

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this shows you how high that picture is over the toilet. wee frame floats high. maybe it's high up because that's where clouds belong. i liked this picture at first, but then the hole that's opening up to the mid-right of the shot started to bother me. now, i pretty much can't look at it because of the disturbing cloud hole. who is stupid -- me, or the person who selected this picture?


p.s. just noticed the t.p. and now am completely distracted by it and really sorry you have to see that, but i am not inserting a new picture because this entire exercise has taken, like, an hour already.

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this is the sink. swanky, eh? i left all my stuff in the shot for your voyeuristic pleasure. thing about this swanky sink is, it's sitting atop a relatively high pedestal. i mean, i am fairly tall, and i find it a wee bit too high for my liking. unless i shrug up my shoulders, my forearms hit the sink when i wash my hands. shorter people would need a stool. so, nice try remodeled best western. you almost got this one right.

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i opened the cabinet to look at the fridger and found this.

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clearly, something went awry.