martinimade

"As I ran, different parts of my body, one after another, began to hurt. First my right thigh hurt like crazy, then that pain migrated over to my right knee, then to my left thigh, and on and on. All parts of my body had their chance to take center stage and scream out their complaints. The screamed, complained, yelled in distress, and warned me that they weren't going to take it anymore. For them, running sixty miles was an unknown experience, and each bady part had its own excuse. I understood completely, but all I wanted them to do was be quiet and keep on running. Like Danton or Robespierre eloquently attempting to persuade the dissatified and rebellious Revolutionary Tribunal, I tried to talk each body part into showing a little cooperation. Encouraged them, clung to them, flattered them, scolded them, tried to buck them up. It's just a little farther, guys. You can't give up on me now. But if you think about it - and I did think about it - Danton and Robespierre wound up with their heads cut off."

also

"I don't care what time I run. I can try all I want, but I doubt I'll ever be able to run the way I used to. I'm ready to accept that. It's not one of your happier realities, but that's what happens when you get older. Just as I have my own role to play, so does time. And time does its job much more faithfully, much more accurately, than I ever do. Every since time began (when was that, I wonder?), it's been moving ever forward without a moment's reat. And one of the privileges given to those who've avoided dying young is the blessed right to grow old. The honor of physical decline is waiting, and you have to get used to that reality."

- Haruki Murakami's What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. 

(In honor of this weekend's Pit Run, which I will be running on Sunday...)

Shameless promo: I have two stories in this month's Upstate Life. For the first, I got to interview one of the Beekman Boys (squee!); for the second, I ran so far away, both night and day.

In surreal news, Amazon recommended my own book to me this morning. What does that mean?

Adrienne Martini, we have recommendations for you E-mail or print for immediate delivery › Amazon.com Gift Cards Your Amazon.com Today's Deals See All Departments Adrienne Martini, Are you looking for something in our Crafts & Hobbies department? If so, you might be interested in these items. Sweater Quest: My Year of Knitting Dangerously  by Adrienne Martini  List Price: $15.00  Price: $6.00  You Save: $9.00 (60%)  The Celtic Collection: Twenty-Five Knitwear Designs for Men and Women  by Alice Starmore  List Price: $24.95  Price: $16.47  You Save: $8.48 (34%)  Weekend Knitting: 50 Unique Projects and Ideas  by Melanie D. Falick  List Price: $19.95  Price: $13.57  You Save: $6.38 (32%)  Fearless Fair Isle Knitting: 30 Gorgeous Original Sweaters, Socks, Mittens, and More  by Kathleen Taylor  List Price: $24.95  Price: $16.47  You Save: $8.48 (34%)  Fisherman's Sweaters: Twenty Exclusive Knitwear Designs for All Generations  by Alice Starmore  List Price: $24.95  Price: $21.11  You Save: $3.84 (15%)  Sock Knitting Master Class: Innovative Techniques + Patterns from Top Designers  by Ann Budd  List Price: $26.95  Price: $17.79  You Save: $9.16 (34%)  The Knitter's Handy Book of Sweater Patterns  by Ann Budd  List Price: $26.95  Price: $24.25  You Save: $2.70 (10%)  See even more similar items Find Great Deals on Millions of Items Storewide Books Movies & TV Amazon Instant Video Music MP3 Downloads Magazines Kindle Motorcycle & ATV Electronics Video Games Cell Phones & Service Computers & Software Sports & Outdoors Automotive Prime Industrial & Scientific Toys & Games Baby Clothing Shoes Jewelry & Watches Beauty Gold Box Musical Instruments Kitchen & Dining Home Improvement Grocery Patio, Lawn & Garden Health & Personal Care Textbooks Gift Cards Office Products & Supplies

Once upon a time, Lisa and Adrienne worked for the same alternative newsweekly. Now, both spend their respective lives mining their creative souls and leading hermit-like lives. And so an idea was hatched. Every week, one would send the other a sketch—either in illustration or word form—and the other would make a companion to the sketch. The result would be posted on both their blogs every week, just for grins. Even if the result isn't award-worthy, the exercise makes both minds more nimble. Hopefully.

My new contact lenses make certain shades of red vibrate in new and freaky ways. Additionally, they make it hard to focus on objects in the middle distance. Very far away and very close are very clear. Reading, sadly, still gives me a headache unless I wear my glasses. 

What my new contacts can’t do is a much longer list. They can’t help me see into the ultraviolet. Nor can I see into clearly into the past or the future. Nor can I read your thoughts, beyond what’s most obvious. My new contacts do not give me xray vision, which might be for the best.

So if you want to sneak up on me, wear any color but red and attack from 10 feet away. 

You’re welcome.

Text ©Adrienne Martini; illustration ©Lisa Horstman. Until the end of time. Or something.

* Because I didn't have enough to worry about. (Be sure to read IssyLu34's comment on the story...)

* All mothers are liars.

* On the teenage brain.

* A genius I enjoy.

* A short history of map dragons.

* The American Folk Musuem has been one of my favorite places to visit in NYC. Not the building (because the building is stupid) but the collections. It'd be great to keep 'em together somehow.

* Endeavouring to understand the bulk of the folks on the autism spectrum.

* This blog post by Mike Rowe is honest. It also reminds me of the Czech Republic, one of the many countries where saftey is job 23 or 24.

* Hartwick College, which is just up the street from me, wanted to bankrupt us all.

* Want. Also, more want.

* A great reason to buy an iPad, if you needed one.

* Another 5K that sounds like fun. 

* In honor of the season.

* On Thursday, Dana Spiotta (who y'all should read) came to speak at the Green Toad. Afterwards, as I started the car to head home, her voice kept ringing in my ears. 

* Calling all geeks.

* This is a review I wish I'd written.

It's been one of those Mondays where everything seems to take about twice as long as you'd anticipated. Not neccessarily a bad day but here it is, 4 p.m., and I've not gotten much done. I did, however, go for a run, so I'll put that in the Win column.

Anyhoo, this weekend, the kids and I planted 60ish daffodil and crocus bulbs. 

The Diva digs.

The Boy ... well, I'm not entirely certain what the Boy is doing. I think I'd just told him to stop spraying water at his sister. 

Daffodils and crocuses (crocusi?)* are the thing that keeps me from completely losing my will to live in late March/April in these parts. Hopefully, enough will survive to bloom. I'd settle for one, really. Plus, by the time Spring rolls around, I'll have forgotten that I planted them in the first place, which will make it a happy surprise for all.

Afterwards, we went to Pie in the Sky to get ice cream. As one does.

The kids are into checkers lately. 

Despite all of the rain, Pie does have a few pumpkins this year. But it is not the bounty of years past.

Including the "Whatzits." Only $2!

The Boy liked this one.

(photo credit goes to Maddy.)

In other news - a quick question: if you could ask the Yarn Harlot one question, what would it be?

---------------------------------------------------

* And tulips - but the dang deer make it impossible to plant tulips and see them bloom. 

"This is not class warfare; it's math."

- Barack Obama

Quickly, because I'm trying to fit a week's worth of stuff into an afternoon, a box 'o yarn showed up for me from elann yesterday. * Wonder what it'll be. **

* Not a huge surprise since I'd ordered it.

** I know what I'm aiming for. Just want to see what you lot think it will be. Any guesses?

Once upon a time, Lisa and Adrienne worked for the same alternative newsweekly. Now, both spend their respective lives mining their creative souls and leading hermit-like lives. And so an idea was hatched. Every week, one would send the other a sketch—either in illustration or word form—and the other would make a companion to the sketch. The result would be posted on both their blogs every week, just for grins. Even if the result isn't award-worthy, the exercise makes both minds more nimble. Hopefully.

Every single damn time. Every time.

We’ve seen the same damn cat every morning for eight freakin’ years on the same freakin’ step with that same freakin’ mind-control freakin’ face. Eight. Years. 

Every single damn morning, Hector barks his damn head off, like Satan himself is trying to jam a red hot coal in his right damn nostril. Every. Time.

What? 

No, I don’t know the definition of insanity. 

But I do know there’s something messed up about that cat.

Text ©Adrienne Martini; illustration ©Lisa Horstman. Until the end of time. Or something.

* Has anyone seen Stitched the Film?

* A haunting story expertly reported.

* In case you wondered about the purple boxes.

* This might be funnier if you follow tennis.

* Want. (Thanks Heidi.)

* This is the CSA for me.

* An interview with Kim Lane, who was ahead of her time.

* Yet another book I'm going ot have to read.

* Easy felted balls. (The Pie Goddess and I made a ton of these last fall. This would be a much better way to do them. Seriously. Save your hands.)

* Like the Blogess (who I love (read this one and try to not die from your ruptured gut)), I find it helpful to listen to this song every now and again.

* Seth Stevenson goes to Burning Man.

* From the local almost-daily: stuff.

* And, on Saturday, as we do every year around this time, we went to the Harvest Fest at the Farmer's Museum. 

The Diva "milks" a "cow."

Duck, duck...

.... sheep?

The Boy may have found his calling.

"And I'm all like, Dude."

Ye Olde Pie Eating Contest.

And, of course, a trip on the merry go round.