Gas is cheap again!

This last Summer, we took the Yukon on a couple of long trips and filling the tank was painfull. The self-service stations have limits on what you can spend, which I think they raised as a result of higher prices. So it was quite common to run into a $100 limit and still have room for a couple more gallons of fuel. Yesterday I filled the tank with something like 28 gallons and it was only a few cents over $50. What a deal!

I'm not that fanatical, look at these guys!

I use my lunch break at work to go running and I get my fair share of grief about it when I run in bad weather. Around here that can be a lot of the year. Summers of 90F and high humidity, Winters of heavy snow and rain at any time of the year.

Now, I usually don't let the weather stop me, but I do not run every day. I normally take Saturdays off for running errands. Also, it is nice to take a day off before my traditionally hardest run on Sundays.

There are people, mostly guys but some women, who have run every single day for years. Years! Every single day!

Check it.

There is a guy who has run every day, every single day since July 23rd 1968.

Compared to that guy I am barely an aficionado.

Saturday--We get our baby fix

We missed-out on getting to see our baby nephew on Thanksgiving day, but we got invited to the cradling for the baby of some family friends. The baby was so tiny. You forget how small they are when newly born.

The brother of the mother was also there and he is always friendly and enjoyable to talk to. We got to meet his fiancee, Beth is her name and she is incredibly sweet. Her whole family was there as well: A sister who looks a lot like her, only brunette instead of blond and her parents, who were very pleasant and engaging folks.

Surenna noticed the piano right away and asked for permission to play. She studies the violin, but is able to pick-through songs on other instruments. They had a songbook with the page opened to Ach Du Lieber Augustine and she had fun working through that.

The IKEA store is a long way from our home, but more-or-less right on the way to the friends' place in Plymouth, so we had the grandparents take the kids to the party and my wife and I took the Yukon, with a stop at the store. It was a productive trip, we got tons of cabinets and such for the new room we are working on. Now we will have to redouble our efforts and get that project done! IKEA stores, in case you have never been to one are huge and designed like a maze--you have to go past every department in order to get from the entrance to the check-out. The thing is that it is a kind of nice maze and so you don't mind so much going through it. It does eat up a lot of time though. Don't go unless you need a lot of stuff. Or if you don't mind spending two hours buying three coffee cups.

Thanksgiving misc.

The day was really very laid-back. My wife's brother and his wife were going to come, but had to cancel as their baby was sick. So all we had was us 5 plus my wife's parents. We did some things differently as a result of this:

We didn't stress-out about the meal being in the early afternoon, which made the day more relaxing. I even managed to do some yard work--prune the roses, dig-up the dahlias, put the picnic table into mothballs and rake the leaves away from the crocuses. We all had time to go for a bike ride/walk (some of us rode, some walked) to the Byam School.

Normally I would cook two small turkeys; One in the oven and one on the charcoal grill for that smoky taste. This year I did just one. I have also added another tradition to the mix--focaccia, as a snack around lunch time. My grandmother, who was as we say, "off the boat" made this lovely savory bread all the time. Although she always called it pizza. It is really great and I make a batch of dough anyway for rolls, so it isn't much extra work.

We missed-out on getting to see the little cute baby, but we had a quiet, happy thanksgiving.

Sunday Marathon Training

Kind of a mixed bag today:

1. A couple of miles after I left home it began to sleet and it kept it up the whole way.

2. I pushed much harder than I had been and it seemed to have an effect. Last week I ran 8:45 miles (IIRC) and today it was 8:27.

3. This is the 4th time I have run this same route and today I took a wrong turn. It took me around 0.35 miles to figure this out, so the run was more than 19.5 miles. Maybe my brain was addled by fatigue and cold, which is why I missed my turn. The kicker is that the correct road was only like 10-15 yards past where I went. I could (have) see(n) it from where I turned.

4. The iPod really helps. I don't usually wear it for such long runs because I am afraid that I will get sick of listening to music and then it will be dead weight from that point-on.

Thanksgiving

Here beginneth the chronicle of those memorable circumstances of the year 1620, as recorded by Nathaniel Morton, keeper of the records of Plymouth Colony, based on the account of William Bradford, sometime governor thereof:

Being now passed the vast ocean, and a sea of troubles before them in expectations, they had now no friends to welcome them, no inns to entertain or refresh them, no houses, or much less towns, to repair unto to seek for succour; and for the season it was winter, and they that know the winters of the country know them to be sharp and violent, subject to cruel and fierce storms, dangerous to travel to known places, much more to search unknown coasts.

Besides, what could they see but a hideous and desolate wilderness, full of wilde beasts and wilde men? and what multitudes of them there were, they then knew not: for which way soever they turned their eyes (save upward to Heaven) they could have but little solace or content in respect of any outward object; for summer being ended, all things stand in appearance with a weatherbeaten face, and the whole country, full of woods and thickets, represented a wild and savage hew.

If they looked behind them, there was a mighty ocean which they had passed, and was now as a main bar or gulph to separate them from all the civil parts of the world.

A Nice Story

Via The Corner:

This is a good story. If a tear comes to your eyes — it's OK.

By Catherine Moore

'Watch out! You nearly broad sided that car!' My father yelled at me. 'Can't you do anything right?' Those words hurt worse than blows. I turned my head toward the elderly man in the seat beside me, daring me to challenge him. A lump rose in my throat as I averted my eyes. I wasn't prepared for another battle.

'I saw the car, Dad. Please don't yell at me when I'm driving.' My voice was measured and steady, sounding far calmer than I really felt.

Dad glared at me, then turned away and settled back. At home I left Dad in front of the television and went outside to collect my thoughts. Dark, heavy clouds hung in the air with a promise of rain. The rumble of distant thunder seemed to echo my inner turmoil.

What could I do about him?

Dad had been a lumberjack in Washington and Oregon. He had enjoyed being outdoors and had reveled in pitting his strength against the forces of nature. He had entered grueling lumberjack competitions, and had placed often. The shelves in his house were filled with trophies that attested to his prowess. The years marched on relentlessly. The first time he couldn't lift a heavy log, he joked about it; but later that same day I saw him outside alone, straining to lift it. He became irritable whenever anyone teased him about his advancing age, or when he couldn't do something he had done as a younger man.

Four days after his sixty-seventh birthday, he had a heart attack. An ambulance sped him to the hospital while a paramedic administered CPR to keep blood and oxygen flowing. At the hospital, Dad was rushed into an operating room. He was lucky; he survived.

But something inside Dad died. His zest for life was gone. He obstinately refused to follow doctor's orders. Suggestions and offers of help were turned aside with sarcasm and insults. The number of visitors thinned, then finally stopped altogether. Dad was left alone.

My husband, Dick, and I asked Dad to come live with us on our small farm. We hoped the fresh air and rustic atmosphere would help him adjust. Within a week after he moved in, I regretted the invitation. It seemed nothing was satisfactory. He criticized everything I did. I became frustrated and moody. Soon I was taking my pent-up anger out on Dick. We began to bicker and argue. Alarmed, Dick sought out our pastor and explained the situation. The clergyman set up weekly counseling appointments for us. At the close of each session he prayed, asking God to soothe Dad's troubled mind. But the months wore on and God was silent. Something had to be done and it was up to me to do it.

The next day I sat down with the phone book and methodically called each of the mental health clinics listed in the Yellow Pages. I explained my problem to each of the sympathetic voices that answered. In vain. Just when I was giving up hope, one of the voices suddenly exclaimed, 'I just read something that might help you! Let me go get the article.' I listened as she read. The article described a remarkable study done at a nursing home. All of the patients were under treatment for chronic depression. Yet their attitudes had improved dramatically when they were given responsibility for a dog.

I drove to the animal shelter that afternoon. After I filled out a questionnaire, a uniformed officer led me to the kennels. The odor of disinfectant stung my nostrils as I moved down the row of pens. Each contained five to seven dogs. Long-haired dogs, curly-haired dogs, black dogs, spotted dogs all jumped up, trying to reach me. I studied each one but rejected one after the other for various reasons, too big, too small, too much hair. As I neared the last pen a dog in the shadows of the far corner struggled to his feet, walked to the front of the run and sat down. It was a pointer, one of the dog world's aristocrats. But this was a caricature of the breed. Years had etched his face and muzzle with shades of gray. His hipbones jutted out in lopsided triangles. But it was his eyes that caught and held my attention. Calm and clear, they beheld me unwaveringly.

I pointed to the dog. 'Can you tell me about him?' The officer looked, then shook his head in puzzlement.

'He's a funny one. Appeared out of nowhere and sat in front of the gate. We brought him in, figuring someone would be right down to claim him, that was two weeks ago and we've heard nothing. His time is up tomorrow.' He gestured helplessly.

As the words sank in I turned to the man in horror. 'You mean you're going to kill him?'

'Ma'am,' he said gently, 'that's our policy. We don't have room for every unclaimed dog.'

I looked at the pointer again. The calm brown eyes awaited my decision. 'I'll take him,' I said.

I drove home with the dog on the front seat beside me. When I reached the house I honked the horn twice. I was helping my prize out of the car when Dad shuffled onto the front porch.

'Ta-da! Look what I got for you, Dad!' I said excitedly.

Dad looked, then wrinkled his face in disgust. 'If I had wanted a dog I would have gotten one. And I would have picked out a better specimen than that bag of bones. Keep it! I don't want it' Dad waved his arm scornfully and turned back toward the house.

Anger rose inside me. It squeezed together my throat muscles and pounded into my temples.

'You'd better get used to him, Dad. He's staying!' Dad ignored me. 'Did you hear me, Dad?' I screamed. At those words Dad whirled angrily, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed and blazing with hate.

We stood glaring at each other like duelists, when suddenly the pointer pulled free from my grasp. He wobbled toward my dad and sat down in front of him. Then slowly, carefully, he raised his paw.

Dad's lower jaw trembled as he stared at the uplifted paw. Confusion replaced the anger in his eyes. The pointer waited patiently. Then Dad was on his knees hugging the animal.

It was the beginning of a warm and intimate friendship. Dad named the pointer Cheyenne. Together he and Cheyenne explored the community. They spent long hours walking down dusty lanes. They spent reflective moments on the banks of streams, angling for tasty trout. They even started to attend Sunday services together, Dad sitting in a pew and Cheyenne lying quietly at his feet.

Dad and Cheyenne were inseparable throughout the next three years. Dad's bitterness faded, and he and Cheyenne made many friends. Then late one night I was startled to feel Cheyenne 's cold nose burrowing through our bed covers. He had never before come into our bedroom at night. I woke Dick, put on my robe and ran into my father's room. Dad lay in his bed, his face serene. But his spirit had left quietly sometime during the night.

Two days later my shock and grief deepened when I discovered Cheyenne lying dead beside Dad's bed. I wrapped his still form in the rag rug he had slept on. As Dick and I buried him near a favorite fishing hole, I silently thanked the dog for the help he had given me in restoring Dad's peace of mind.

The morning of Dad's funeral dawned overcast and dreary. This day looks like the way I feel, I thought, as I walked down the aisle to the pews reserved for family. I was surprised to see the many friends Dad and Cheyenne had made filling the church. The pastor began his eulogy. It was a tribute to both Dad and the dog who had changed his life. And then the pastor turned to Hebrews 13:2. 'Be not forgetful to entertain strangers.'

'I've often thanked God for sending that angel,' he said.

For me, the past dropped into place, completing a puzzle that I had not seen before: the sympathetic voice that had just read the right article.

Cheyenne 's unexpected appearance at the animal shelter … his calm acceptance and complete devotion to my father … and the proximity of their deaths. And suddenly I understood. I knew that God had answered my prayers after all. Life is too short for drama & petty things, so laugh hard, love truly and forgive quickly. Live While You Are Alive. Tell the people you love that you love them, at every opportunity. Forgive now those who made you cry. You might not get a second time.

Please share this with someone.

Wednesday training

10.32 mile tempo run. 83:59. Around 8:08 per mile. I really should be pushing myself harder. April 20th approaches...

secular right redo

A redo of a chart found here, but normalized to make more sense...

Iowahawk

Obama Names Bill Clinton to Presidential Post

WASHINGTON DC - Ending weeks of speculation and rumors, President-Elect Barack Obama today named Bill Clinton to join his incoming administration as President of the United States, where he will head the federal government's executive branch.

Click title for Iowahawk's full post...

Sunday Marathon Training

I finally got my running watch to work--needed a new battery. Again. 2:46:30 which gives a pretty slow time of around 8:45/mile. I am starting to doubt the time I just ran last month--Did I imagine it all?

UPDATE: Ran 3.54 miles at lunch today at a 7:45 pace. It felt like a dash! Hard to believe that I maintained a faster pace for the first 18 miles or so of the Bay State Marathon last month.

Time for a Fisking

Time for Him to Go

By GAIL COLLINS

Published: November 22, 2008

Thanksgiving is next week, and President Bush could make it a really special holiday by resigning.

Seriously. We have an economy that’s crashing and a vacuum at the top....Blah, blah blah. Yes Bush like all the other presidents since the 20th amendment are lame ducks and it is suddenly a problem now because? Anybody? Buhler? Ah, yes! It is a problem now because a D is replacing an R. Got it.

Putting Barack Obama in charge immediately isn’t impossible. Dick Cheney, obviously, would have to quit as well as Bush. In fact, just to be on the safe side, the vice president ought to turn in his resignation first. (We’re desperate, but not crazy.) Then House Speaker Nancy Pelosi would become president until Jan. 20. Obviously, she’d defer to her party’s incoming chief executive, and Barack Obama could begin governing...

And now, back from liberal fantasy land: Why should Bush and Cheney go along with this scheme? They undoubtedly think the country would have been better off with McCain winning, so the later Obama takes over the better.

Can I see a show of hands? How many people want George W. out and Barack in? Just guessing here, but I would bet that almost all of the 58 million votes for McCain would be against this. And this isn't even counting all the people who are already regretting their votes for Obama.

A great many Americans have been counting the days all year on their 2008 George W. Bush Out of Office Countdown calendars. I know a bunch of people like this. They seriously entertained the idea that Bush was a dictator who would never give-up power . Now the same people think he would give it up early? So what is it? Lack of memory or cognitive dissonance?

In the past, presidents have not taken well to suggestions that they hand over the reins before the last possible minute. Senator J. William Fulbright suggested a plan along those lines when Harry Truman was coming to the end of a term in a state of deep unpopularity, and Truman called him “Halfbright” for the rest of his life. Bush might not love the idea of quitting before he has a chance to light the Christmas tree or commute the execution of one last presidential turkey. After all, he still has a couple more trips planned. And last-minute regulations to issue. Are you trying to get him to go or to stay?

On the other hand, he might want to consider his legacy, such as it is. Because, nothing says success like quitting early.

“Doing nothing is almost the worst thing a president can do,” said the historian Michael Beschloss. Actually, most conservatives' fondest hope is that the president will do as little as possible. 9 out of 10 problems will solve themselves, but any problem "solved" by government, will likely either make the problem worse, permanent, or create two other equally bad ones.

Time for a change. Yes, the Times need a change: They need sane editorialists for a start.

Best comment in a thread about tattoos..

EDH says it best:

...I've developed a theory about tattoos and tattoo placement: Anyone accused of crime that has a tattoo on their neck is guilty, if not the crime charged, something.

Child Labor in 2008

The factory, just before the day-shift shows up.

The sweatshop in full-swing...

Product, ready to ship.

November Ice

The slab of ice I fished out of the pond behind me was a good 2 inches thick. You can tell from the ice stuck to bushes and higher ground, that when this ice formed the water elevation was maybe 15 inches higher than it is at the time of this picture.

A Latin Translation of an Earlier Post.

Translator here.

1. Is est valde pro nostrum populus ut nos denique got a niger praesieo. Is est a dedecus is had futurus unus quisnam ( in paper utique ) videor habeo parum relevant usus quod est recedentia ut left of plurimus Americans.

2. Totus of institutio matrimonium proventus inter rus ruris obduco. EGO don't have a ingens penitus in proventus , tamen is est nam a subcribo ut nos es etiam a center / vox terra.

3. Si McCain had won , tunc is would exsisto 12 annus of Res publica sceptrum obvius Niveus Domus. Illic est haud via a Res publica could have won in 2012, iam is mos plerumque pendeo in quam puteus Obama does.

4. Obama may exsisto an novus lefty , tamen sit a velox bulla. Sit valde perspicuus quod should polleo surgo ut volo velociter. Aut via January 20th palaestra rota adveho off.

The problem with tatoos..

This would make a cool tattoo, problem is that I don't practice Kung Fu and even if I did, could I be sure that I would stay interested for life? Because that is how long the tattoo will last...

Image from here.

What Type of Blog am I ?

This site allows you to analyze your blog.

Not sure how accurate it is, but interesting nonetheless.

Sorry about the weird-looking graphic. I had to convert the file 5-ways to Wednesday to get it into postable format. Yes, am aware of snagit, but my trial ran out..

Here is the type given in words:

ESTP - The Doers

The active and play-ful type. They are especially attuned to people and things around them and often full of energy, talking, joking and engaging in physical out-door activities.

The Doers are happiest with action-filled work which craves their full attention and focus. They might be very impulsive and more keen on starting something new than following it through. They might have a problem with sitting still or remaining inactive for any period of time.

Another fun logic game from the same source as the previous one

Here

No fair looking at the comments there for cheat codes--solve them yourself!

Sunday Marathon Training

Same as last Sunday, except I ran it in the opposite direction. Thrilling, I know. Distance: Around 30K, Time: around 160 minutes.