19169

So, rock on over to 21st Century Mom's site and tell her what's in your purse (yeah, guys too!). If nothing else, it will get you to clean it out.

What I want to know is, how come on "LOST," the only characters who survived the plane crash are good looking? Why is that? (I am so shallow.) And how does a 10-month preggers woman survive without a scratch? I realize I'm coming in late, and there's really no catching up on this show, which has the most convoluted plotline I've ever seen. So it's entirely possible that I missed the part where they killed all the ugly people before the plane crashed. On the desert island. With the polar bear. Somewhere in the South Pacific. Which is why I must watch this show while while reading its recap on television without pity, which, if you haven't read it, you really really should. That's some kinda inspired recapping.

In other random non-running news: Number One Daughter is at school, busy wrestling with her own decision—to stay on the crew team, or drop it. And I mean wrestling, worried about letting the team down, her coach down, herself down, vs. getting to sleep late, like um til 7 a.m., like a normal person and join activities and have fun.

God, we're quite a pair aren't we? Not exactly executive types when it comes to making decisions.

I'm plum out of running tales.

But I did get my official Marine Corps Marathon bib assignment today: 19169. Which is related to running, I think you could definitely say.

And which number makes me think of Jenny-867-5309, minus a few digits, don't ask me why.

Sometimes You Just Need to Stand Still

Well, I decided.

That's that, then, for now.

It was hard, but no looking back, right?

Someone asked me today if I thought this whole "running thing" was propelling me to take risks. Ya know what? It totally is.

And that's amazing. Especially for a big scaredy-cat like me.

I'm a little sad about my decision. But I probably would have been sad either way.

I'm trusting that it's not the only such opportunity I'll ever have in my life. And sometimes, the risk is in staying with the hard thing, instead of, well, running away from it.

****

P.S. Ran my fastest 3 miles this morning: 31:47 (10:35/mile). Cool, huh?

I Can Bring Home the Tofu* ...

"... Fry it up in a pan And never let you forget you're a man 'Cuz I'm a woman -- W-O-M-A-N!"

Today's 10-miler mad recap:

First, was total nervous wreck as usual.
Second, metamucil wafers rock.
Third, temperature=67 °; light rain.
Fourth, got about ten minutes of sleep last night (excessive worrying about other problems).
Fifth ... ok, enough of this.

Got to training site at 6:30 a.m.; peed in park (natch). Today was 10 miles at 13:30 pace, running 3 min/walking 1 min.

I ran with the group (which I am now doing consistently. People, I have a group!) Until ... mile 7ish, when ... well, see for yourself:

lap 1: 15:29 (includes warm-up walk)
lap 2 (miles 2 & 3): 25:57 (still can't work @#%$& watch!)
3: 13:22
4: 13:18
5: 12:51
6: 12:27
7: 13:48 (yeah, whatever)
8: 10:34
9:11:06

(Mile numbers are all screwed up; but it was 10, I swear.)

Total: 2:08/Average:12:51 min./mile

(June 18, 2005: 10 miles: 2:26)

I don't know what the hell happened. I was setting a pretty good pace for once, for me, not at the back of the pack, for once, which was extremely odd, especially considering lack of sleep, and um, I had, um, my PERIOD. (Ok? I just said it out loud. Sheesh.)

For once, I was pretty much at the front of the group for the entire run. But something happened around mile 7.

One woman in our group is teeny tiny, runs like the wind (relatively speaking) and is always ahead of all of us. I think it just got on my last nerve that I wasn't keeping up with her. So, I decided to keep up with her. The next thing I knew, I was in front of her. I was leading my group!! At mile 8, a water stop, I got my water without stopping, and then I just took off!! I was still doing the run/walk thing, but the insane thing is, I still managed a 10:34 min.

WTF??? (Not that I'm complaining.)

I left the group behind me. For once.

(Is this bad? Was this a bad thing to do?)

I think it was a combination of being sick of being slow, and a lovely rainy morning. Plus, ok, I admit it: I wanted to show off, just a little bit, because this group has never seen me do anything but come in last.

So, whatever. I know it's not a race, and I'm probably a big baby for doing it, but it felt amazing!!

But wait! That's not all!!

At about 8.5 miles, a bunch of military recruits are running toward me! A whole big bunch (platoon? swarm? whatever). This was right in front of the Capitol building. I almost cried, it was magical to hear their commander (sargeant? fearless leader?) counting out for them, and they were all running in step. I was all by myself, and I clapped for them, which made them smile, which they will probably be shot for later on.

But wait! That's not all!!

Thursday night, I ran 4 miles (god I hate hate hate night running.) Despite hating night running (isn't that an R.E.M. song?) here are the numbers from that run:

10:31
9:56 (!!!!)
10:35
13:38 (walked 1/2)

Holy freakin' shoot. Sub-10??? That was the FIRST TIME EVER!!

So, I don't know what's going on, but now you all know too, and I am, for once, exceptionally PROUD of myself! (I think, anyway.)

****
In other news, I have an enormous decision to make this weekend, which will affect my life for many years to come. For real. And I'm so freakin' about it. So, I'd better go flip a coin, or google "how to make a decision," and figure this thing out.

****
*acceptable bacon substitute

Kids Today

Back in the day, when dinosaurs roamed the earth, I went off to college carrying one suitcase and a manual typewriter.

What the hell happened between then and now?

I know I'm just old but, really, tell me, especially those of you who are still CLOSE to college age, how did these items become mandatory in each and every dorm room? Cuz I'm just wondering:

TV (of course);

cable (of course):

DVD player (ok, this is new since last year);

fridge;

microwave;

lots and lots of supplementary food even though you are paying for a meal plan which serves, um, lots and lots of food, and even though you are a girl and eat one yogurt for lunch;

of COURSE, the mandatory cell phone (not really part of the dorm room, more of a fashion accessory);
(Ed.'s note: Forgot to mention the mandatory LAPTOP, as Drew pointed out. Yeah, the laptop is like air. Non-negotiable.)

Now NOD is a very reasonable kid, and though she may think her mother somewhat unreasonable, which her mother may be, but really I don't think so, she mostly keeps thoughts of mother's unreasonableness to herself. She and roommate are splitting the cost of the aforementioned items, and if NOD wants a TV in the room, with DVD, she'll pay for it herself, with money she earned herself, by working.

But back in the day, there was one TV on our dorm floor (a special floor, btw, called "Middle Earth" (don't ask)), and we gathered around it to keep warm. No, not really. We gathered around it to watch the FIRST season of Saturday Night Live. Talk about your Must See TV.

Oh the fun we had! TV!! A little box with small black and white people dancing in a snowstorm of static haze (remember, no cable). Then we'd pull taffy, and Pa would resin up the bow ... no, wait, that's from Little House on the Prairie.

Anyway, back in the day, we had no phones! No cars! You want to go somewhere, you took the overcrowded, unreliable "T," walked or biked. I rode my bike through many a Boston snowstorm. (Yeah, really, I did. I swear. You can ask my roommate.)

What the hell has happened in lo these few years? Where will it end?

Cuz I'm just wondering.

It's Not Every Day

I run 20 miles.

But to quote AIDs Training Marathon Program Rep's weekly e-mail:
We follow the Jeff Galloway method because it has worked so well for tens of thousands of runners. You may feel that your 20-mile run seems very slow at first, but trust me; you will appreciate it fully when the miles start racking up. What’s more, you will be grateful for it when you have a faster and injury-free marathon day.

(I love the line about "...when the miles start racking up..." I wonder when that happens ...)

So, our pace was slowed to run 2/walk 2 and that's what we did for the entire twenty miles.

Which took:

5 hours 11 minutes.

Holy crap.

In my pre-marathon training days, I distinctly recall telling a marathoner friend, "Geeze, I can't even think of anything I like doing that I'd want to do for five hours."

So, now I get it.

It was loooooooonnnnng, but it was awesome.

Ran with the Group. Evan ran with Pace Group Leader. So, now, maddeningly, I have to take back previous less-than-gracious comments about PGL. She did well keeping the pace, we ran together for a while, and actually shared a few laughs. At one point, she deconstructed the ingredients in several alcoholic beverages (there's rum in mojitos?? who knew?) And, as a group, we played "name that capital" (my idea, natch). And generally we just put one foot in front of the other.

My friends, there is no "I" in TEAM.

Highlights:

Passing the "Welcome to Maryland sign" (where we took a GROUP photo), around mile 8;

Running thru Ye Olde Train tunnel, which was about 10 gazillion degrees cooler than rest of trail (around mile 9)
(The Dalecarlia tunnel in 1975, although it looks more like 1875)


















Same tunnel circa 2005:




















Inside same tunnel (um, does someone have a thing for tunnels?):












(Photos from Crescent Trail Web site.)

"Mr. Big" spraying me with water around mile 8;

Mr. Big draping icy cold towel on my neck around mile 13ish, that made me ask him if he would marry me and bear my children ("Yeah, I get a lot of that," said he);

Mile 16ish: Thompson's boat house, where there is a real bathroom; sitting down (ouch ouch ouch ouch); then hitting the FREE ice machine there;

The long slog (3.5 miles) back to base, which magically doubles in length at the end of every run, along the National Mall, dodging tourists;

Driving home (which drive, btw, is 16.5 miles, a mere stroll in the park);

Hobbling up to apartment;

Number One Daugher helping poor old Mom into bath;

NOD putting ice in bath (such a wicked, wicked child);

Laying on floor with legs up on wall so that lactic acid will go back to brain, where it belongs;

Long, lovely summer's nap.

In other news, I'm driving NOD back to school tomorrow, so I will now have to take care of myself again, as in make own dinners, do laundry, make own ice baths. No more personal maid service. Oh yeah, and I'll really really miss having her around. Did I mention that NOD rocks?

And, though I'm loathe to admit it, so does her Mom.

Shhhhh.....

Please keep your voices down so we don't wake up the sleeping giant of unadulterated fear within.

Yeah, I know what I said last week, but tomorrow is 20 miles!

Ooops, I wasn't supposed to say that out loud! Damn!! I was so hoping to keep it from myself.

Sigh.

Well, the damage is done now. Now we know. But maybe we'll forget if I distract myself by watching What Not to Wear, for instance.

Sigh.

I have to sleep, now, I think. I'm all watered up, and I"m thinking I should just show up at the site tomorrow around 5:45 a.m., run, say, oh 10 slow miles, and then well, turn around and run back.

Ok? That sounds doable.

See you guys tomorrow.

What's all that shaking? Oh, that. That's just my heart pounding.

A Recap, for Those Just Tuning In

We're all just breaking all kinds of records!!

OK, I swore I would never do this. Post my times. Too boring.

Except ... I can't hold it in any more.

Yesterday morning, went out for a 3-mile run, once more shaking off all worries about finishing, walking, not walking, watch, time, etc. etc. etc.

(Unfortunately, no gaggles of military hotties were on hand to distract me. Some people have all the luck ...)

Where we were six years ago:
April 18, 1999 (First—and only 5k race until 2005; no splits because didn't know what a split was)
38:14
(average: 12:20)

1999-April 2005: Running record: N/A

July 4, 2005: (5K race) (obviously PR)
33:50 (no splits because that involved pushing buttons on watch)
(average: 10:53)

(Lots of weeks in between slogging along at 11:30 min. miles)

Until yesterday, August 16, 2005 (3 miles)
10:49
11:00
10:44
(average: 10:51)

I am woman!

Back in the Saddle

Laced up my shoes, holstered my water bottle, and set out to run five miles this morning, despite nagging doubts.

Despite nagging doubts, I just ran.

I ran without thinking: "Is this too fast? Should I slow down? If I don't slow down, I'll never finish," blah blah blah, etc. etc. etc.

Result? Ran my fastest four miles ever.

And then walked a bit and ran a bit for the last mile.

Total result? I ran five miles about one minute (ok, 1.6 minutes) faster than it took to finish my 8K (which, by the way, is 4.970969536 miles).

As a bonus, I discovered I was fine afterwards. I didn't die. The world didn't stop spinning. Nothing bad happened.

Moral?

Stop thinking so much.

The Sound of Nine Miles ...

I know that I'll always have questions, but I don't want to question my faith in myself ever again. I don't want to doubt for a second that I have a place out there - and I suppose that's something that comes with time, with practice and with experience.
—Wil

Ah Wil!! Wil, you are always inspiring.

But as Wil so presciently notes, this kind of confidence isn't built overnight. It's built by pushing yourself to try things you never thought you could do, like, say, for instance, running a marathon! (Or in her case, an awesome triathalon.)

My nine miles flew by this morning, as you all knew they would and I was fine, and what the hell was I so worried about anyway? and you were all right, as usual. And as Susan, another voice of reason, often reminds me: "If not for the bad days, the good days would seem blah, right?" Yep, right.

I ran with the "group" this morning, and it was good. My usual running partner did not show up, and hasn't replied to e-mails this week. Don't know if she's dropped out or not. It's been a week like that—people dropping out of my orbit, feelings getting hurt, accompanied by a heapin' helpin' of excessive worrying about many more things than deserve worrying.

And speaking of worrying, since I'm nowhere near no longer questioning my ability (obviously), I thought I'd share some info I read this morning that fed into my self-doubt as sure as slugs feed on strawberries (they do, you know).

Cool Running sponsors a Jeff Galloway bulletin board, and yikes, it's mean in there!! Apparently, a whole lotta people think that "Gallowalking" is a sham and if you can't run a marathon without taking walk breaks, you a) shouldn't be out there, and b) definitely should not be claiming you "ran" anything.

The AIDS Marathon Training Program recommends different run/walk ratios depending on your training pace: In the interest of full disclosure, my ratio is 3:1 (run 3 minutes/walk 1) at a 13:30 minute mile pace, so that's what I do on Saturdays. On my maintenance runs, I run four miles without walking at an average 11-min mile pace. But four miles is waaay different than 26.2.

One of the posters referenced this article, "From Couch Potato to Ironman," one woman's chronology of her first marathon, (umm, sounds familiar), and then pointed to a bulletin board of 10—10!!!— pages of really nasty comments about this woman, all from "real" runners, who were all beating this woman up for being underprepared (she kinda was), and well, not make the wisest choices during her first marathon (she kinda didn't). And, of course, for walking.

Your assignment, should you choose to accept it: read and comment.

(And yeah, I kinda already know the answer to this.)

****

Addendum to yesterday's post: Jeanne, first, please do us all a favor and stop reading (and certainly stop linking to!) unbelievably negative people who can only bring you down and make you doubt yourself. Hey, did you actually read WIL's quote you so prominently posted as your first paragraph (see above)??

In the same post, (in the space of like one hour), you went from feeling good about yourself to letting these self-aggrandized morons (who by the way are total strangers) make you feel ... just wrong. What is WITH you?

One day, grasshopper, you will learn. You really will. I promise.

Beach Blanket Breakdown

It's official: I'm schizophrenic (apologies to anyone actually suffering from the disease). I ran 18 miles last Saturday, acted like a grown up, and was very proud of self. Now, am quivering mass of nameless fears.

Unlike Susan's beach experience, covens of running blog friends did not descend on the beach during my recent three-day retreat thereto.

But, I did run.

Day one: gorgeous, so I made sure to get sunburned, but did not run.

Day two: rained the whole day. And, because I am a martyr, I got up at 7 a.m. and ran the length of the one-mile boardwalk four times in a torrential downpour. In my usual time. Happy dance.

Day three: more sun, more beach, and a two-hour drive home.

Day four: got up early and tried to run 45 minutes (because I don't have a four-mile route marked out near my house). Crashed at 38 minutes, and walked home.

WTF??

I sympathize with a. maria. I truly do. My motivation is there, but just recently, I've been seized by the fear that I will never be able to run again, like it's all been pretend and accidental up to now.

So, apparently just for fun, every single time I go out to run, I am convinced that I won't be able to do it. And, when it comes true, as it did on Thursday, it's self-reinforcing. "Ah ha! You were right! You are a fraud."

Examining the data, I come up with these potential contributing factors:

Footwear: I got new, bigger (read=enormous) running shoes on Sunday, and started breaking them in this week. But I wore those for the boardwalk run and it was fine (despite slight panic attack at prospect of running).

Food: Eh, not eating so well. I admit it. I'm cheap on vacation (but not easy), so I do things like skip lunch, and nibble instead on stuff like chocolate-covered soy nuts. (Yum!) (Hey, at least they're not Thrasher's fries.)

Water: Maybe didn't drink enough?? No alcohol passed these lips, I can attest to that.

Sleep: When didn't I sleep? I've never slept so much in my life.

Personal stuff: Hmm. A LOT going on here. Annonymous posted on a.maria's blog that his/her personal demons love coming after him/her when she/he (this is exhausting: just tell us who you are already!) runs. I'm not consciously thinking about these particular problems when I run (at all other times of the day, yes), but I bet they are all in there stirring up trouble.

But really: Who the hell knows?

I'm just very tired of being afraid all the time. Note to self: So what if you don't finish a training run!!! God, get over yourself already.

Eh, enough moaning for today. Saturday is only 9 miles (stomach already churning with fear as I write this). Pass the Paxil, please.

Remember This in Your Head ...

There's an Indigo Girls song with this refrain:

don’t you write it down, remember this in your head
don’t take a picture, remember this in your heart
don’t leave a message, talk to me face to face

I love this lyric because I am (dare I say "we" are?) so often wrapped up in capturing stuff on film, or writing it down (ahem), that I (we) often miss the moment of actually being there.

Take, for instance, yesterday's 18-mile training run.

Our coaches encouraged us to bring cameras because 18 miles is, well, pretty momentous, and convential wisdom says if you can finish 18 miles, you can finish the marathon. So one gal in our pace group brought a small camera to capture the run. And she took a few photos of several of us along the way, in front of the Capitol, on the trail, etc.

By about mile 7.5 we have our usual bathroom stop at Thompson's Boat Center, right across from the Kennedy Center, along the Potomac River.

All the high school and college crew kids are there taking out their rowing shells to practice on the river. I always love watching this, since Number One Daughter rowed in high school, and in college last year, so it brings back good memories. What a glorious, difficult, and beautiful sport.

Anywho, I went to the bathroom at Thompson's, and did my thing, along with many other AIDS marathoners. I must have taken a wee (he he!) bit too long, though. When I got back, my entire group, along with Divine Miz M, was having their picture taken in front of the scenic Potomac River. I said, "hey wait for me!" Too late. I missed it.

Later, Miz M told me someone in the group said "Wait, Jeanne's missing," and our Pace Group Leader said something to the effect of "Jeanne's out." As in who the hell has time to wait for Jeanne?

Now, when I heard this I had a choice to make. This could have really gotten my knickers in a twist, and I could have definitely spent the rest of the run bitching and moaning about how unfair, and what kind of people, etc. (This is the group who won't wait for someone to tie their shoe.) But I had 11 miles ahead of me. I wanted to have a good run. I love this part of the run because it 's on the Capital Crescent Trail, a paved, divided trail with tons of gorgeous foliage that runs along the Potomac all the way through West Virginia. It's gloriously beautiful, and on an early Saturday morning is filled with people running, biking, walking. I adore it.

So, I said a few nasty things about Miz Pace Group Leader to Divine, mostly just to get it out of my system, but really more in jest and sympathy for her, than out of that dark, spiteful, and ugly place deep down inside. Then, I made a conscious decision not to dwell (ah! becoming a grown up!!) on this ridiculous incident. PGL is just not a natural-born leader, which she can't help. Plus, I noticed she actually tried really hard to stay on pace yesterday. So, I decided to give her a pass.

It was right after this, (after the group photo that I'm not in), that the pace group ditched me and Miz M again. Or maybe we ditched them. I'm not completely sure, and it doesn't matter anymore. So it was me and Miz M from mile 8 to mile 18.

A short recap on the 18-miler: I think I really love long runs. (I know I will eat these words another day.) Yep, my feet starting hurting around mile 11, but this run is so beautiful that I just tried to focus on that. Getting back to base was hard but I did not stress (too much), and given that there is really no choice but to put one foot in front of the other, I just did it. I didn't kill myself either.

We actually ran from D.C. all the way across the Maryland line, where the coaches greated us with "Welcome to Maryland." Very cool.

And, on the way back, exactly when we needed it, one of the water stop guys (let's call him "Mr. Big") was handing out freezing cold towels which this guy, who did I mention is a volunteer? voluntarily buys and hauls around in a big container of ice cold water, simply for us to drape on our necks, exactly when we need it. I'm telling you, this, on a steaming hot day, at mile 11, I can honestly say, from what I remember, is better than sex.

So this is a sort of meandering post, without a punch line. But I think the punch line is that 1) I have reached some peaceful place with the whole group thing; 2) I actually seem to enjoy these long runs, despite the discomfort, and 3) I will remember this run in my head. I don't need a photo to remind me.

****

Bonus:

NOD and crew taking boat out of water after a regatta last fall. Let's just be glad we don't have to lift an eleventy-million pound shell out of the water and then carry it 20,000 miles after our race .

Scientific Analysis of My Running

(This is the actual text of an oh-so-sad attempt on my part to get my work colleague (a very fast, very very young runner) to tell me how great and fast and smart and clever I am.)

Here is the e-mail exchange verbatim (names have been changed to protect the innocent):

-----Original Message-----
From: Jeanne
Sent: Wednesday, August 03, 2005 8:41 AM
To: Young, Fast Work Colleague
Subject: What do it mean?

So I've been running an average of like 11:38 minute pace, except:

Monday:
11:22
11:10
11:23
10:39
Average: 11:08

Today:
11:30
11:00
11:22
10:35
Average: 11:07

----Original Message-----
From: Young, Fast Work Colleague
Sent: Wednesday, August 03, 2005 8:42 AM
To: Jeanne
Subject: RE: What do it mean?

I think it means....you're consistent :)

-----Original Message-----
From: Jeanne
Sent: Wednesday, August 03, 2005 8:43 AM
To: Young, Fast Work Colleague
Subject: RE: What do it mean?

Not that I'm getting faster? [ED.'s NOTE: I actually do realize how totally pathetic continuing this line of questioning is. Now. I now realize it now.]

-----Original Message-----
From: YFWC
Sent: Wednesday, August 03, 2005 8:45 AM
To: Jeanne
Subject: RE: What do it mean?

Ok, it means that the first mile you are kind of like...."Oh man I have three more of these, ugh"

The second, you are like, "This isn't so bad, I am almost half way done,"

The third, you are like, "Oh kill me now. Why am I doing this,"

And the last, you are like, "I'm awesome, this feels great, yay I am almost done, I kick a&*!

-----Original Message-----
From: Jeanne
Sent: Wednesday, August 03, 2005 9:07 AM
To: YFWC
Subject: RE: What do it mean?

That's hilarious! And so freakin' true! [ED.'s NOTE: See, I knew if I kept at her long enough, I'd grind her down and eventually receive the adultation I apparently so desperately crave. And, it worked.]

My Favorite Topic

Many thanks to Susan and Stephanie for keeping me from having to think up anything original tonight!

On to the good stuff:

1.What are you training for now?
Marine Corps Marathon, Oct. 30, 2005, Washington, D.C.

2. If you are raising money for a cause, what is it and why is that cause important to you?
I'm training with the National Aids Marathon Program, and as part of the deal, I agreed to raise $1,700. Money raised goes to D.C.'s local HIV/AIDS clinic, rather than some impersonal research facility. I like that this money goes directly to those in need. Amount raised to date: $1,775!!!! (Signed, Mother Theresa.)

Why AIDS? There are so many good causes out there, I dunno, I picked this one. Maybe because (even though I know this is not a "gay" disease, so don't even bother writing to tell me that), some of my best friends (no, really) are gay.

Also, I knew someone (acquaintance) who died of AIDS.

3. What is the farthest running you've done in training and what is the farthest running you will run before your event? Ever?
Sixteen miles two weeks ago with my training "group," (who I believe I might have just briefly mentioned before), but the longest training run before the MCM is 26.2 miles, a few weeks before the actual marathon. That last training is, apparently, just a pretend marathon.

4. What is your favorite flavor of gu (or other sports gel) ?
I think they are all pretty disgusting and do nasty things to my digestive tract, but if you put a gun to my head and forced me to pick, I'd say tri-berry GU.

5. How many days a week do you run?
Oh this is a good question! Three days per week, because that's all we're allowed to run. Because we mustn't upset the Schedule.

Mondays and Wednesdays are maintenance runs, four miles each (or 45-minute runs of any length, take your pick). Tuesdays and Thursdays are cross-training (=horrid elliptical machine of death), and Saturdays are "group" runs, (which I believe I may have touched on in a previous post), alternating between long, longer, and ridiculous.

6. Are you injured in any way right now?
What, are you trying to jinx me?? No way I'm answering this! That'd be just asking for it.

7. What is the one type of running clothing/gear (shoes don't count) you can't live without?
Ok, I'm gonna lie on this one, and say Title Nine's incredible Frog Bra^tm. (Yeah, I know that's a boring answer, but you've already read waaay more than you ever wanted to know about me and my bodily functions.)

8. Do you have a talisman you are planning to take to your event? If so, tell us.
You mean like a lucky rabbit's foot? Or a favorite coin? A magic four-leaf clover? No. No, I don't have a talisman. Should I?? I should, shouldn't I. That's it, i'm doomed. Now, on top of everything else I have to worry about, I can add "find a freakin' talisman" to my list. Thanks. Thanks a lot.

9. Share one thing about yourself we don't know.
I sleep with an enormous, life-sized stuffed bear that I bought for my daughter when she was 8-years-old. He, I mean IT, keeps my back flat at night since I sleep with my legs draped over it. That's my story anyway.

Bonus fact: I sleep in what I like to call my "crib." A three-sided affair. Kind of cozy, like you're sleeping on a ship. It kinda looks like a crib, doesn't it? Without the fourth side.

I find that amusing. As no doubt would Dr. Freud.

Had enough?

Margaret, ncmunchkin, and Erin, tag, you're it.