OK, we're all family here.
If you're following the new conservationism, the new water-saving movement (like I do), you're bound to have heard "yellow is the new green."
"In the land of fun and sun, we don't flush for #1."
"If it's yellow, let it mellow. If it's brown, flush it down."
OK, so these environmentalists could improve on their poetry skills.
But, how do you feel about that? Not flushing for #1 (unless company is on the way, of course.) Have you ever pondered that?
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Today's Police Car Count: 4
There is only one 1/4-mile stretch of my regular route where I've either got to run on the street or jump the curb and run in a field (which is full of dips and drops and weeds). Since this stretch is so short, I run with traffic and keep my eye out for headlights behind me coming down Shiloh. There's not much traffic at 4:15, so it's not usually an issue.
I can't use headlights as a warning sign anymore.
This morning I got through the stretch and got back up in the alley -- and here came 4 Garland police cars creeping up Shiloh with their headlights off. 3 with lights on top, 1 unmarked. 2 going the right way on my side of the road. 2 going the wrong way on the other side. Hmmm... this couldn't be good.
They turned into the apartment complex just ahead and were out of sight -- for just a minute when they all came barreling out with their lights on this time. I just kept plodding along.
They made a U-turn at Arapaho, and all 4 converged on a man walking down the sidewalk carrying a black trash bag. I swung out and around them (out of stray bullet range, I was thinking) and just kept plodding along. They still had the road blocked off when I came by there 5 miles later.
I think the Garland police know me by now out there, but I've played in my head what to tell them if they stop me. I live next door to former City Councilperson Mark Monroe; I am current City Councilperson Rick Williams's appointee to the Garland Library Advisory Board; Office Shannon Wilson can vouch for me -- we served on the City Charter Review Committee a few years ago; and I'm wearing my RoadID bracelet listing my name, phone number, and Kelly's name to call for help.
And, if things get really messy, I've got my Catholic 3-way cross around my neck that says on the back "I'm Catholic. Call a priest."
I can't use headlights as a warning sign anymore.
This morning I got through the stretch and got back up in the alley -- and here came 4 Garland police cars creeping up Shiloh with their headlights off. 3 with lights on top, 1 unmarked. 2 going the right way on my side of the road. 2 going the wrong way on the other side. Hmmm... this couldn't be good.
They turned into the apartment complex just ahead and were out of sight -- for just a minute when they all came barreling out with their lights on this time. I just kept plodding along.
They made a U-turn at Arapaho, and all 4 converged on a man walking down the sidewalk carrying a black trash bag. I swung out and around them (out of stray bullet range, I was thinking) and just kept plodding along. They still had the road blocked off when I came by there 5 miles later.
I think the Garland police know me by now out there, but I've played in my head what to tell them if they stop me. I live next door to former City Councilperson Mark Monroe; I am current City Councilperson Rick Williams's appointee to the Garland Library Advisory Board; Office Shannon Wilson can vouch for me -- we served on the City Charter Review Committee a few years ago; and I'm wearing my RoadID bracelet listing my name, phone number, and Kelly's name to call for help.
And, if things get really messy, I've got my Catholic 3-way cross around my neck that says on the back "I'm Catholic. Call a priest."
Thursday, August 6, 2009
26 Years Ago Today
26 years ago today, I was constantly checking my dress shoes to make sure one of my brothers hadn't written "SAVE ME" or "HELP ME" on the bottom of them. Father Fernandez told me to be vigilant, that such wasn't good when I was kneeling at the altar exposing the bottoms of my shoes to friends and family at the church.
I wasn't a Catholic at the time, and I remember Father Fernandez particuarly addressing me saying he didn't expect me to listen to church hymns in the car, so don't expect him to allow Neil Diamond music in his church. I didn't have any Neil Diamond LPs, so this was OK with me. Kelly's friend Kathy Wilson was a classically-trained singer, and she ended up playing the piano and singing Ave Maria so beautifully that even the statue of Mary was weeping.
26 years ago today, my brother insisted we needed a limo to take us from the church to the reception. Kelly and I were the last to leave for the reception, waiting outside almost 30 minutes in the August 6th heat for the limo to arrive. At the reception, my brother took me off to the side and whispered that I needed to write a check and give it to him to pay the limo driver, and to make sure I included a generous tip.
26 years ago today, whoever got to the reception first insisted they start pouring champagne (even though, on our shoestring budget, we had decided only to have enough for one toast.) When we arrived, the champagne was flowing, and my sister-in-law was already slurring her words and dirty-dancing with one of my co-workers. I never saw my groom's cake -- it was all gone by the time we got there. I hear it was a delicious German chocolate.
Fred was at the reception. Kelly and I met at the grocery store -- she was a checker, and I was a courtesy clerk. When I got promoted to checker, and thus had a future, she agreed to go out with me. Fred was one of our regular customers. A sweet and salty old man. Lived right across the street and walked over. Came in the mornings to drink coffee in the snack bar with his buddies. If one of us were on break, he'd pull up a chair. We visited Fred when he was sick. Checked on him from time to time at his apartment if we hadn't seen him for awhile. Fred is gone now, but we remember him when we look at our wedding pictures.
26 years ago, I was green. I wasn't so gentlemanly, and modest, as I am now. Kelly has trained me well, coached me along, turned me into an infinitely better man than I would have been otherwise. And, I'm still a work in progress. I know that. I don't try to kid myself.
(Note to my running girl-friends: We men don't come pre-packaged and ready-to-show. We're pretty much hairy, spoiled little boys whose Mama has tended to our every need for the past 20 or more years. We're yours now. It's your job to coach us, teach us, mold us, turn us into the men who are going to be good fathers for your babies, God-fearing and dedicated husbands, reliable providers for your family, and community-serving citizens. It's pretty much up to you now. If you need some advice or tips, feel free to contact Kelly, or meet up with her at the August 15th Team Sprinkles get-together. She'd be glad to help you.)
So, what does this have to do with running? As marathon runners, some of us are also green (I know I am.) We're on week 5 of a 23-week program. But, think of how far we've already come in just 5 weeks since our initial run on 7/11. In just 5 weeks, our fitness level has improved exponentially. In just 5 weeks, I have met some new people whose company I enjoy immensely, and who I genuinely miss between Wednesdays and Saturdays.
Considering the progress we've made in just 5 weeks, imagine who we are going to be at 23 weeks.
My old boss, who convinced me to run my first marathon in 1997, was also a mountain climber. When the going was particularly treacherous, his group would tie themselves together with a long rope so that if one person fell, the others would catch him so he didn't fall off the mountain, and then he could get back up and get going again. That's going to be us at this year's White Rock Marathon.
26 years ago today. Happy Anniversary, dear!
I wasn't a Catholic at the time, and I remember Father Fernandez particuarly addressing me saying he didn't expect me to listen to church hymns in the car, so don't expect him to allow Neil Diamond music in his church. I didn't have any Neil Diamond LPs, so this was OK with me. Kelly's friend Kathy Wilson was a classically-trained singer, and she ended up playing the piano and singing Ave Maria so beautifully that even the statue of Mary was weeping.
26 years ago today, my brother insisted we needed a limo to take us from the church to the reception. Kelly and I were the last to leave for the reception, waiting outside almost 30 minutes in the August 6th heat for the limo to arrive. At the reception, my brother took me off to the side and whispered that I needed to write a check and give it to him to pay the limo driver, and to make sure I included a generous tip.
26 years ago today, whoever got to the reception first insisted they start pouring champagne (even though, on our shoestring budget, we had decided only to have enough for one toast.) When we arrived, the champagne was flowing, and my sister-in-law was already slurring her words and dirty-dancing with one of my co-workers. I never saw my groom's cake -- it was all gone by the time we got there. I hear it was a delicious German chocolate.
Fred was at the reception. Kelly and I met at the grocery store -- she was a checker, and I was a courtesy clerk. When I got promoted to checker, and thus had a future, she agreed to go out with me. Fred was one of our regular customers. A sweet and salty old man. Lived right across the street and walked over. Came in the mornings to drink coffee in the snack bar with his buddies. If one of us were on break, he'd pull up a chair. We visited Fred when he was sick. Checked on him from time to time at his apartment if we hadn't seen him for awhile. Fred is gone now, but we remember him when we look at our wedding pictures.
26 years ago, I was green. I wasn't so gentlemanly, and modest, as I am now. Kelly has trained me well, coached me along, turned me into an infinitely better man than I would have been otherwise. And, I'm still a work in progress. I know that. I don't try to kid myself.
(Note to my running girl-friends: We men don't come pre-packaged and ready-to-show. We're pretty much hairy, spoiled little boys whose Mama has tended to our every need for the past 20 or more years. We're yours now. It's your job to coach us, teach us, mold us, turn us into the men who are going to be good fathers for your babies, God-fearing and dedicated husbands, reliable providers for your family, and community-serving citizens. It's pretty much up to you now. If you need some advice or tips, feel free to contact Kelly, or meet up with her at the August 15th Team Sprinkles get-together. She'd be glad to help you.)
So, what does this have to do with running? As marathon runners, some of us are also green (I know I am.) We're on week 5 of a 23-week program. But, think of how far we've already come in just 5 weeks since our initial run on 7/11. In just 5 weeks, our fitness level has improved exponentially. In just 5 weeks, I have met some new people whose company I enjoy immensely, and who I genuinely miss between Wednesdays and Saturdays.
Considering the progress we've made in just 5 weeks, imagine who we are going to be at 23 weeks.
My old boss, who convinced me to run my first marathon in 1997, was also a mountain climber. When the going was particularly treacherous, his group would tie themselves together with a long rope so that if one person fell, the others would catch him so he didn't fall off the mountain, and then he could get back up and get going again. That's going to be us at this year's White Rock Marathon.
26 years ago today. Happy Anniversary, dear!
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