martinimade

Last weekend, I woman'd the Another Mother Runner booth with Erica and Michelle at Zooma Cape Cod.* Michelle's picture of us shopgirls is probably the best -- and if you click the link you can read about her kick-ass 10K. I spent the weekend coveting her Boston Marathon jacket, as one does, and greatly enjoying the company of two wonderful, strong, smart women. 

Which isn't to say there weren't other wonderful, strong, smart women there. I just didn't spend as much time with them.

Like Michelle, I ran the 10K. Coach Christine let me know I had to keep my inner beast leashed for the run, otherwise I totally would have won this bad boy. Ahem. 

It was a great run. The scenery couldn't have been prettier.

Nor could the weather have been more ideal. I ran it in 1:18 and change, which is by far my fastest 10K ever, but never really pushed terribly hard. And, while I was running through the finish chute, this wonderful woman jumped in and joined me:

As she peeled off to rejoin the folks she was waiting with, she said, "That was so much FUN!" Truth, sister. Truth.

It was a huge confidence boost to run so quickly (for me) and feel so good as I slide into the Wineglass Half this Sunday, where I hope to PR. And confidence is key. Physically, I think I'll be fine. The mental game, however, can get a little shaky. Still, I have grand plans to kick its ass.

Before the kicking, some other mother runners and I, will be womaning that Expo. Come see us, if you're in the area!

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* Zooma is a woman-centric race series that holds events all over the country at swanky, scenic resorts.** Napa Valley looks particularly tempting.

** This was taken about 20 feet from our hotel room. 

RIGHT?

* Dying of completely treatable diseases. In 2015. In the U.S. 

* Opaque mothering. (And also from the NYT, this online Voyages photo feature is way cool.)

* This.

* Steve Martin on Richard E. Grant.

* Time solved the mystery for us olds who happen to be parents of Tween and Teens.

* I want to see this show.

 If Neil had gone off on a rant about how none of the lyrics of Seven and the Ragged Tiger actually mean a single goddamn thing Jesus what the hell is going on in Simon Le Bon’s head besides cocaine and Cristal I suspect his editors would have pulled him aside to let him know to trim it up otherwise he’d be murdered by a roving pack of Duran Duran fans. And thus would the history of comic books and fantasy literature have been irrevocably changed.

- John Scalzi on Neil Gaiman on Duran Duran. And, incidentally, on writing.

I know I haven't been as blog-y as usual. Early autumn is just crazy-go-nuts around here. And to add to the bedlam, my Husband's van is not long for this world.

We knew this day was coming, mind. Last time it was in the shop, the mechanics made it clear that our ancient Honda Odyssey wouldn't pass inspection without a significant amount of work, an amount that would be equivalent to a nice down payment on a new (to us) car. Given that the van is almost 15 years old,* we weren't surprised. Still, shopping for cars is just such. a. pain. in. the. arse. that we kept putting it off. 

Now that said inspection date is in sight, we pulled up our respective underpants and have spent a few hours every weekend hopping from dealer to dealer, then having to stop when the existential ennui set in. It's been a process.

Last night, we finally made a decision. It's a Subaru Forester for us. I'm a little jealous, frankly, that the Hubs gets the new car -- but I'm working through it. 

But this isn't about that.

While we were waiting at our local Subaru dealer for our sales guy to return** with a set of keys for a test drive, two other customers caught my eye. I ran over for a selfie:

The Beekman Boys live just up the road from us and were in Oneonta to speak at Hartwick College that evening. And, it seems, to get their Subaru serviced. 

I've had the honor to talk with each of them before. I interviewed Brent for a story in the local paper; I met Josh when The Bucolic Plague first came out. *** But this was my first selfie with them -- and, it must be said, a pretty good one at that. It's like co-ordinated our shirts. Plus, Josh's arms are long enough to find a flattering angle. Plus plus, they are amazingly open and friendly guys in general, who didn't seem to mind posing for a selfie at the Subaru dealership.

Oh - and we should have our new car in a week or so. No word yet on which Beekman Boy will be delivering it to our front door.

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* and has a bumper "fixed" with several square meters of duct tape, among other after-market enhancements. When we were talking trade-ins, the phrase "scrap weight" was justifiably used. 

** and our local Subaru place is pretty great, btw, and doesn't make you want to curl in a ball and weep.

*** and shoved a copy of Sweater Quest into his hands because I'm like that.

* Two dispatches from parts of the world most of us will never see: One and Two.

* Heh.

* Multi-cultural Mothering.

* This is what new moms look like.

* Tell me again about illegal aliens.

* This might be the most funny and most true piece I've read about the Republican presidential debates.

* What are the odds?

* Science!

* Apparently there's a radioactive fan community.

* There's so much I want to say about this but my inarticulate rage keeps getting in the way.

* Things to not do anymore.

Usually I start my Friday post with a quote. This week, however, I'm linking to a video. You'll likely be able to work out why it resonated with me.

And! Martini Friday is live! I'll be taking a wee break in writing the column until October 11, mostly because the next couple of weekends will involve packing for race expos, race expos, public speaking*, racing, and recovering. As one does.

* If you ever need someone to hold forth on running, knitting, or parenting, drop me an email. It's a thing I love to do and, now that I'm not teaching, something I don't get to do nearly enough.

* It's like she lives in my house.

* Heh.

* It's so easy to forget that the past was in color.

* Africa is not a country.

* The Queen's Corgis.

* I hope I'm still alive when we figure out what's going on with Pluto.

* Andrew used to be my favorite photographer to go on stories with when I working for Metro Pulse. This story explains why.

* Right in the feels.

The last few episodes of both of the podcasts have been a little lackluster - so much so that I was thinking about kicking them out of the queue. And then - then! - they hit it out of the park this weekend. To make up for thoughts about taking a break from both Working and Story Collider, let me recommend their two most recent episodes. Story Collider's is from Nate Charles Troisi and is about his father and a chemistry set; Working's is about how a self-defense instructor works but is also about self-worth and rape culture. Go and listen.

There is a great moment on Scandal when Cyrus says, "Being a mother isn't a job." With three kids of your own, do you agree with that?

Rhimes: I feel very strongly about that statement. When I put it in, we had a big talk about it in the writer's room. They were like, "Shonda!" and I was like, "It's true!" You cannot quit being a mother. Calling it a job belittles it. It goes part and parcel with the whole idea of motherhood as a sacrifice. Some site tweeted, "Getting no sleep when you have a newborn is a badge of honor!" And I was like, No it's not! It sucks! And we should be able to say it sucks. The greeting cards that are like, Mother, you sacrificed so much for me -- the glorification of mothers who are doormats for their children? Where is the greeting card that's like, Mother, thank you for teaching me how to be a CEO? Mother, thank you for teaching me how to make money? Mother, thank you for teaching me how to kick ass and take names? Those are the greeting cards that I want my child to get when she is a mother. So when people are like, "Oh, it's the most important job you'll ever have"? No. The most important job I'll ever have is my job.

-- From Entertainment Weekly's interview with Shonda Rhimes, who kicks ass and takes names.

Plus my most recent AMR column is now live: About that 5K.

On Tuesday, the kids went back to school, praise all the beasts and fishes. I did the thing a parent does, which is take pictures before they walked out the door:

The Boy, whose enthusiasm about returning to the classroom can be easily gauged based on this snapshot.

And The Teen, who cut a lot of hair off a couple of weeks ago and suddenly looks all grown up. 

But this isn't really about that.

For the Teen's birthday this year, I got her a subscription to Japan Crate because she's all about kawaii and sugar. It's a thrill (for all of us, frankly) to open it each month, mostly because there are always a few items that make our American-centric brains ties themselves in knots. Like this:

Based on the picture on the box, what flavor would you guess this is? (No fair answering if you actually know what flavor this is.)

And then there's this:

It's toilet candy. In the box is a plastic toilet, whose upper tank you fill with water. There's a powder you sprinkle in the bowl. Then you flush and foam overflows -- unless you used the enclosed straw to suck it out of the potty before it winds up everywhere. 

Yeah. I got nothin'.