Step It Up

Today was a national day of rallies, organized by Bill McKibben's Step It Up to focus attention on climate change. And I should have gone. I wanted to go.

Instead, I went outside.

Today was 55 degrees and sunny. Tomorrow Boston is supposed to be hit by a Nor'Easter. Rain, wind, cold. Nasty nasty weather. (Climate change anyone?) I just had to go for a hike.

Plus, it was a really great way to decompress before my hellish week in Hotlanta. Although now that Napolean isn't going, it will be much MUCH better.

So, I went off to the Blue Hills Reservation and did the Skyline Loop. It was great. Beautiful weather, lots of changes in scenery, a really challenging hike.

I would post a bunch of the gorgeous pictures I took, but there weren't any batteries in the camera I dragged along. I am ridiculous.

And, true to form, the first half hour of hiking I was stressed and focused and motoring on like a Type A Fire personality. But about an hour and change into the hike, I mellowed out and let my mind wander. I came up with two ideas for stories and had some interesting exchanges with some Boy Scouts. Don't ask - don't tell.

All in all, it was a pretty good day.

And while I didn't do anything publicly to help climate change, I did pick up a water bottle someone had left along the trail and disposed of it properly.

Everything counts, right?

A Moral Victory and a Confession

First, the confession. I hope that the Sox do NOT win the World Series this year.

Allow me to explain.

I almost bought a sofa yesterday. I was really pretty. (SEE?)

It was on sale at Jordans. I like Jordans a lot. Their stores aren't just stores, they're experiences. And, like the Disney whore I am, I love me some experiences. And it was truly a great deal. A sofa and a loveseat in a funky fabric for under a grand. I was this close to buying it. But I chickened out.

I couldn't do it - I couldn't spend that kind of money knowing I'm so close to paying my credit cards off. Far better to give myself a birthday present in four months time - when my balances are 0.

But, here's where the confession kicks in. Jordans is offering a deal - one that ends tomorrow. If the Sox win the Series this year, every piece of furniture purchased in their store from the season home opener until Apr. 16 is FREE. FREE. (They have insurance....)

So, while I didn't really need an extra loveseat and would have stressed about where to put it in my living room, and while I'm sure in four months' time I'll find another sofa I like equally, I have to tell you that if the Sox win - if I could have had a brand new sofa for NOTHING - I will be really, really, really bummed out.

Flying Kitty

Warning: This post contains scenes of graphic animal violence. Be sure to alert the SPCA.

Today is a vacation day. I will spend my Sunday on a plane to Hotlanta, so today counts as a "Day in Lieu." Truth be told, I'm going to spend it getting my oil changed, doing laundry and such.

Nonetheless, today is a vacation day. And vacation days should mean sleep. Especially since I went out last night to celebrate the publication of My First Brochure. Over a year in the making, it's a very sweet piece of work and I'm wicked proud. So, libations were downed, nachos were chowed, and, yes, even drunken dialing occured. (Sorry Mr. Zips!) A good time was had by all. And I was really looking forward to a long night's sleep.

Unfortunately no one gave Fuzzy Kitty the memo.


6:35 a.m. Kitty starts meowing for breakfast

6:40 a.m. Kitty jumps up on bed and starts "nuzzing" momma

6:42 a.m. Kitty tries to crawl under covers because momma isn't paying attention to her

6:45 a.m. Kitty starts biting momma's hair

6:47 a.m. Momma groans and gets up, lopes into kitchen and puts food in bowls. Fuzzy Kitty commences eating. Lamby Kitty is nowhere to be found.

6:50 a.m. Momma is back in bed, happily drifting back to sleep

6:51 a.m. Fuzzy Kitty decides she's done eating and it's time to play

6:52 a.m. Fuzzy Kitty goes flying.

I trust that Kitty was not hurt. After all, clothes were piled all over the floor in preparation for laundry duty. Besides, don't cats always land on their feet?

I also know that Kitty is not mad at me. I know this because she's sitting on my lap right now, purring happily, chasing my fingers over my keyboard.

It's a good thing she's co-dependant, because this behavior against Kitty is, unfortunately, chronic on my part. Can those engineeers at MIT figure out some alarm clock that's heard - and understood - by Kitties, so that we can stop this cycle of violence? Please?

A Fallen Hero

I won't say Rest In Peace - because you didn't seem to want peace. You wanted to challenge conventions and challenge us to think.

But I will say you will be missed. Because, Kurt Vonnegut, you were one of a kind. Brilliant, wise, insightful, self-effacing, and utterly human. With all of the frailties and failings associated with being a bag of bones on this rotating ball of matter.

You were one of my heroes. And I will miss you.

My Painful Tootsies

I must admit that I am ashamed. Ashamed that my butt was kicked -- good and hard -- by my aerobics teacher.

Normally I wouldn't be ashamed to have a rough time in class. Wednesday is my "double night" - two classes back to a back for a total of an hour and 45 minutes. It's a tough regime on days when I'm feeling good. And today, not only am I tired and haven't been feeling well, but my feet hurt. (I am this close to actually being my Tante Emma who swore she could tell when a storm was coming because her arthritis acted up.)

So, it's not just that I had a tough class. It's that I had a tough class and had to take a lot of breaks even when my aerobics instructor held up strong and cheerful.

Again, normally, this would not be a big deal. But let me tell you this.

MY AEROBICS INSTRUCTOR IS 8 AND A HALF MONTHS PREGNANT.

The woman is huge. Well, no, she's tiny. But her belly is gi-freaken-normous. I can't imagine that she's still upright, much less doing front and side kicks that shame a former dance major. And doing it all with a smile.

I really hope that she gets paid really, really well.