Just some of the things you might have missed on Twitter this weekend:
RT @LaurnSmith We are having artisanally tossed biscuits this morning. And by “artisanally tossed,” we mean we threw the can back and forth across the kitchen to each other a couple of times. pic.twitter.com/YEyi4PnssK
I wonder about the point of a customer service rep putting notes in your file since no other customer service rep in the history of any company ANYWHERE has been able to access the previously written notes.
I was told my permanent record was going to be more … permanent.
When naval aviator Capt Rosemary Mariner was laid to rest there was an all-female flyover: https://t.co/gdqjrXfckB
Her husband, Tommy Mariner, (USN – Cmdr-Ret.) said an all-female formation wasn't a necessary detail. You see those pilots, and flight crew, and you know it was.
And it wasn’t that bad, really. I’m running in tights and a t-shirt and over that there is a special lightweight running jacket. You wouldn’t think it would do much by appearances, but on the inside that jacket has some special material that basically turns you into a baked potato.
Once you get your heart rate up you’re basically running 20 degrees warmer than the ambient temperature anyway, so that’s about 38. And that jacket is good for another 15-25 degrees I figure. Look! I’m sweating there at the end of that brief little run.
Also, after a time, you don’t even notice the frozen fog anymore which is a concept as alien as an alien coming down to the planet’s surface, running a quick evening 5K with me and saying “This frozen fog isn’t noticeable like it is on Kerplax 7.”
Which is precisely the sort of thing the alien would say. Between deep gasps, because the oxygen content isn’t exactly perfect for him, and there’s some gravity issues relative to other planets this alien athlete is accustomed to. But he’d say that, maybe, and none of this would be nearly as weird as me thinking Huh. I didn’t even notice the frozen fog..
So the weather wasn’t that bad for an evening run, really. But it is going to get worse.
We’re traveling back into the barren and cold northlands today, after a fine weekend that was capped off by a fourth visit to Clary’s, a little time in the park, a massage and watching Savannah’s Martin Luther King Day parade. (It was two hours long and still going when we had to leave.)
It was a great visit to a lovely city that we enjoy a great deal. We discovered a fine little Mexican restaurant out of necessity today for our late lunch-on-the-go. Today’s Uber driver had just moved to the low country from the Smokies. She’s still getting used to the entirely different weather patterns, which is funny considering she’s only about 300 miles from home, but that’s an important 300 miles. That was a retirement 300 miles for her and her husband, she said. Our Uber driver on Thursday night had a similar story, but for a lifetime in the Navy and then retiring to coastal Georgia. Neither of them looked old enough to be even semi-retired. Maybe that’s the autobiographical aging process, or maybe its just the latitude.
That’s The Yankee reading under Our Tree on Saturday. The weather was so perfect that day we spent most of the day in that spot. Coincidentally, that is about the same view I had in December of 2008 just before I proposed. We’d been sitting under that tree and I was waiting for The Sign. You know, the one you sometimes find yourself asking for. Eventually a leaf fell on me and I took that as the requested sign. My plan involved me leaving, so that I could come back. I excused myself to visit the restroom and, right about where I’m standing to take that photograph above, a man intercepted me and we started talking about families and marriage and biblical passages and I said, “OK, fine, that is my sign.”
So I went back to the tree, hung her engagement ring on some of the bark and called her over to scratch our initials into it. And there was her ring. She was there, I was there, it was Savannah, there was a ring and I didn’t even think up a speech. Which is odd, because this is me. I asked her if she would like to keep having adventures with me, and then another guy came up and “What’d she say? What’d she say?” as he offered to make us one of the little bamboo flowers they sell to tourists here.
I knew he’d want to be paid for that, and he should. It was ornate and involved and quite nice. We had eight dollars between us. He was disappointed, but gave us the flower and she finally said yes. Now here we are. I have at least nine dollars in my pocket today.
Anyway, we enjoyed our Saturday beneath Our Tree. It was bracketed by breakfast and a nice run, but that was pretty much the day, and it was perfect. That night we also went out for crabs on Tybee Island:
We also saw some birds:
And from the It’s Been Too Long Department, we saw Wendy!
Something like 17 years I’ve known her now. She’s even more wonderful today than she ever was.
Sunday the weather was a bit dank and I was tired and sore and still trying to overcome a few days of fun with my sinuses, so it was a low key thing. Today the parade, a spa trip and then the car ride to the airport. We made one other stop, but I’m saving those pictures for tomorrow. Be sure to stop by for those. It’ll be lovely.
The roads got cleared, the sidewalks got warm and then it rained on Saturday night. It’s style around, and a little bit crunchy and icy, but pleasant enough. And this is why: It didn’t slow anything down, but also allowed us to slow down.
Only, she goes fast:
It was a brick workout. So she road her bike, indoors of course, and then had to head outside for a short run. It’s all about challenging different muscle groups in your legs. Me? I simply shot a few photos as she raced by.
Later, she made banana bread.
So the snow can’t be too bad, then.
We went out for a longer run yesterday afternoon. This was at the very beginning, still in the neighborhood, because running when the ponds are frozen seems like a sensible idea.
Somewhere along the way I started taking accidental photographs. This would have been before the “Why? This is cold.” And the “This hurts in more ways than one.” But it was well after the triumphant feel of running. It was a 10K, which leaves you just enough time to get in your head too much.
So I guess that’s my new art.
Here’s right at the end of my run. Most of the roads and sidewalks and roads I enjoyed were perfectly dry. But this was another new kind of thing.
