Marathon Girl and I are embarking on an adventure tomorrow. We're going camping.
Camping is always an adventure but even more so with a 14-month old baby.
Not thinking that Aidan would make this camping trip daring enough, Marathon Girl is seven months pregnant and we'll be camping with her family.
Add it all together and I'm sure it's going to be an interesting weekend.
Have a good rest of July.
I'll be back in August.
This morning when I reached the turn around point on my four mile run, another runner caught up to me and turned at the same spot. (What can I say. It's a popular turnaround spot.) Not wanting to be left behind, I increased my pace, caught up with the other runner, then sprinted past him, thinking that my dazzling speed would make him realize he had met his running match.
It was not to be.
The other runner increased his speed. I could hear his footsteps on the trail behind me coming closer.
Of course I had no choice but to stay a few steps ahead of him. But every time I increased my speed, he increased his. We were both determined
We ran a seven minute pace for about two miles. Finally with about a quarter mile left in my run and unable to keep the pace any longer, I slowed. The other runner slowed too and we ran side by side for a bit.
"That was fun," the other runner said. He was breathing hard.
"Yeah,"I said barely able to talk. I hadn't run this hard in a long time. I felt like throwing up.
"I saw you about a half mile before the turn around point," the other runner said. "I thought I'd try to catch you before you made it there."
"You did that," I said.
"Yeah but I didn't think you'd catch up and pass me."
"I'm competitive when I run. You can blame that on my wife."
The other runner laughed. I told him about Marathon Girl.
He said he wished his wife was a runner.
We parted ways at the end of my run promising that if we saw each other running in the mornings we'd race again.
As I walked home, I realized how much I miss running in the mornings with Marathon Girl. Even though I struggled to keep up with her blistering speed, I enjoyed every minute of it.
Now with a kid, crazy schedules and the fact that she's seven months pregnant, running together is just about impossible. The only time we exercise together anymore is when I we go for one of her "walks" on Saturday morning. Though I enjoy them, they aren't the same as just the two of us running full speed down the road.
This isn't a complaint. It's really anticipation for baby number two to arrive so I can run with Marathon Girl as fast as we can down the road in a couple months.
Mark my words. I'll be the one trying to keep up with her.
Yesterday one of my favorite blogs was locked because someone in her family found out about it. This morning I read an article on how personal blogs by two editors and a columnist at New Times in Miami, which included observations about current and former staffers, caused major uproar at the company. Lawsuits could be forthcoming.
That's the thing with blogs, you never know who's going to find them. No matter how much you try to hide your real identity (and the blog that was locked yesterday did an excellent job of doing just that), someone you know can find it.
Marathon Girl found my (old) blog soon after we started dating. (Five minutes on Google and she can do wonders.) She kept the knowledge to herself for a few weeks before finally telling me she had found it. I remember being a little stunned that she had found it after thinking about it, I realized there was little to worry about since my posts at the time were not about her or anyone else -- only what I was going through as a widower at the time.
After Marathon Girl's discovery, I realized that what I wrote could be read by anyone, anywhere, anytime. And though it didn't stop me from blogging, it made me a little more cautious what I wrote about. Though no one else knew about my blog, many potential blog entries stayed in my paper journal instead of working their way online. There were some very personal things not worth sharing with the world -- even anonymously.
Two months ago when I made the decision to blog under my real name, I worried that it would limit what I could write about -- especially since friends and family and coworkers who didn't know I was blogging would now have full access to it. But I've discovered that, for the most part, what I post here is no different than what I'd post in my old blog.
Since I've started this blog, occasional situations have arisen at work or with family and friends that made me wish my blog where anonymous so I could write about those incidents.
And I do end up writing about them. But they end up in my paper journal, not online.
That is probably for the best.
It's one of the few places Google can't access.
Growing up Batman was my superhero of choice. There were several things I found more appealing about The Dark Knight than other superheroes. First was the fact that he had no superpowers. Sure he had a lot of fancy gadgets but there was no super strength or powers that could save him. Eventually it all came down to his training, skills, and (yes) gadgets to help him out of a situation.
Second was that Batman worked alone. (Yes, I know about Robin but I refused to buy any comics book with Robin in it. It was the lone Batman tales I purchased.) As somewhat of a loner growing up, I like reading stories about him saving Gotham or taking down the Joker on his own.
Finally the was the fact that Bruce Wayne chose to be Batman. Most superheroes (or supervillans for that matter) never choose to be who they are. Most of their powers or unique abilities are a result of fate: radiation, a genetic mishap, or an accident. But not Bruce Wayne. He wanted to be The Dark Knight. He made the choice to put on the mask and go out every night.
So it goes without saying when my dad volunteered to watch Aidan for an evening so Marathon Girl and I go out and have some alone time, we went and watched Batman Begins.
I had heard good things about Batman Begins but was a little hesitant about it since the last two movies (Batman Forever and Batman & Robin) were absolutely horrible.
But Batman Begins is different that the first four Batman movies -- it's better. Way better. In fact I'm confident in saying this is by far the best Batman movie ever made. And if Warner Brothers is looking to make more, I hope they follow the winning template they have with the latest movie.
Christian Bale makes a great Bruce Wane and Batman -- a critical ingredient that the first four moves never had. (Michael Keaton, George Clooney, and Val Kimler were great with the mask on but couldn't pull off a decent Bruce Wayne.) And the directors have dropped the corny comic book aspects of the first four films.
The movie also goes where the comic books have only lightly treaded -- the reason why Bruce Wayne decided to become Batman and why he chose to dress as a bat. By delving into the reasons behind his actions, we start to understand the mind of Bruce Wayne better and he becomes a more real and believable character instead of just some rich guy in a Bat costume -- something the first four movies didn't address very well.
The movie is dark and intriguing -- as is Batman himself. Gotham is now a real city instead not the crappy prop city that Tim Burton gave us in the first two Batman movies. The acting is solid. The special effects, epically some creepy Scarecrow effects, are great. The acting is rock solid. It seems like the guys have made this watched the Spiderman movies and took their cue on how to make a comic book character come to life in a believable way.
Now the bad. I wish they would have done a little bit more with The Scarecrow. One of my favorite and most disturbing bad guys in the comic books, I felt Scarecrow was given just light treatment. His true psychotic nature was never shown. And the scenes where Batman is taking out a room full of bad guys was edited with MTV-style close-ups so you couldn't see what was really going on. Come on guys. Quit being cheap. Show us the action.
But those were only minor blips on the screen. Batman Begins was thoroughly enjoyable for both Marathon Girl and I and well worth a rare night out together.
Batman Begins 4 stars (out of 4).
Another confession, if you will. I've never read a Harry Potter book. (But I have enjoyed the movies.)
No, it doesn't have anything to do with my literary snobbishness. Nor is it because I think that Harry Potter books promote witchcraft. (They don't.) I've just never bothered reading them.
Which is odd considering how much I love to read.
Admittedly part of the reason I've held off so long is just to see people's faces when they learn I've never even opened the cover of one. I might as well be telling them I'm from Mars or have gills and live in a swimming pool.
But I've read so many good things about this latest book, I'm this close to breaking down and starting the series.
Marathon Girl loves the books and says I'm missing out. And when it comes to books, her judgment is usually right on the money.
I have most of next week off work. Marathon Girl and I are going camping with her family and there will be lots of time to read.
Maybe it will be a good time to finally dive in to Harry Potter.
Maybe.
Just posted: Dating A Widower
As a former young widower, I receive a lot of email from people who are in a current relationship with a widower. Those who email me are often looking for some insight on the strange behavior these widowers sometimes exhibit and the challenges that come from trying to form a relationship with one. After several years of emails, I’ve noticed several issues that arise over and over again. In the hope that this can help those who are dating widowers (or perhaps considering it), I’ve decided to address the most common issues that arise.
Also, more college poetry. This is the last of it, I promise.
Aidan's learned how to play chase. I've been trying to teach him this game since he could crawl. Only this last week has he mastered the basics though he still doesn't quite understand all the rules.
He understands that if he runs away from me I'll chase him, eventually catch him, and tickle him. (That last part is his favorite.) However, if I try to walk away, he starts to cry as if he thinks I'm leaving and don't want to play anymore. Instead he wants me to stand next to him until he's ready to run away and then have me chase him.
I've tried to explain to him the game is more fun for everyone when I start to walk away then turn around and chase him.
Aidan's response?
"Gah goo ah dada!"
One step at a time, I guess.
My youngest brother just found out he's going to be spending the next two years in Greece. How exciting.
I'm very envious.
Part of me wishes I could spend two years living abroad again.
terrorist -- n. One who engages in an act of terrorism. (American Heritage College Dictionary, Third Edition) terrorism -- n. The unlawful use or threatened use of force or violence to intimidate or coerce societies or government, often for ideological or political reasons. (American Heritage College Dictionary, Third Edition)
A previously unknown group calling itself the Secret Organization group al Qaeda Organization in Europe released a statement Thursday claiming responsibility for the London subway and bus bombings. -- CNN July 8
I was floored this morning when I read that the BBC re-edited some of its of its coverage of the London Underground and bus bombings to avoid labeling the perpetrators as "terrorists."
The more politically correct term?
Bombers.
According to the article
The BBC's guidelines state that its credibility is undermined by the "careless use of words which carry emotional or value judgments."
Consequently, "the word 'terrorist' itself can be a barrier rather than an aid to understanding" and its use should be "avoided."
This is chilling story on several levels.
First is fact that the higher ups at the BBC are unable (or unwilling) to an act of terrorism for what it actually is. Rather than report the truth, the BBC would rather play it's politically correct games to appease who, exactly? The terrorists? (Excuse me, I mean bombers.) Do they think that using the term bomber instead of the word terrorist is going to pacify these people? It sounding more and more like Karl Rove was really on to something.
Second we have a news organization re-editing its own coverage to fit it's own political agenda. Is it just me or is there something eerily similar to George Orwell's 1984
In 1984 the main character, Winston Smith, works for government's propaganda machine The Ministry of Truth. It is Smith's job to rewrite the past newspapers and magazines so they can further the political agenda of the Party and Big Brother
This process of continuous alteration was applied not only to newspapers, but to books, periodicals, pamphlets, posters, leaflets, films, sound-tracks, cartoons, photographs -- to every kind of literature or documentation which might conceivably hold any political or ideological significance. Day by day and almost minute by minute the past was brought up to date. In this way every prediction made by the Party could be shown by documentary evidence to have been correct, nor was any item of news, or any expression of opinion, which conflicted with the needs of the moment, ever allowed to remain on record. All history was a palimpsest, scraped clean and reinscribed exactly as often as was necessary. (1984, Chapter 4)
Maybe it's time we rename the BBC to something more appropriate like The Ministry of Truth.
For several years I was a literary snob. Please don't hold it against me.
I've changed.
I attended LSA (Literary Snobs Anonymous) and am proud to say that I am fully recovered.
Let me explain.
I've always loved to read. For birthdays and Christmas the gifts I enjoyed the most were books. (It's still true.)
After I went off to college I discovered I had a knack for writing. Along with a host of Journalism and Communication courses I started taking several upper division English classes.
One of the problems with English classes (especially at the college level) is many of them have a warped view of what makes a good book. Instead of concentrating on things such as character development or plot, they focus on the writing style. Yes, much of the "great literature" they drone on about in upper division English courses are written so well no one can understand them.
But you're told who cares whether or not most people can comprehend what the author is trying to say. Good literature isn't meant to be enjoyed, only decoded.
Then you're given the secret literary decoder (a.k.a. literary criticism) to find out what the author really meant. Using this secret decoder ring you learn that Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass is really about inner feminine rage. The Great Gatsby? Incest. The Sun Also Rises? Environmental destruction. (Is it any wonder English majors have a hard time being taken seriously?)
I graduated college with a warped sense of what makes a good book, I made my way out into the real world.
Time passed.
I started dating Marathon Girl. Come to find out she's a voracious reader. (In the first six months of this year alone she's read 35 books.) On one of our good dates we start talking books. I ask Marathon Girl to name one of her favorite authors.
"Michael Connelly," she said.
I thought "Michael who?"
Not wanting to sound stupid after telling Marathon Girl I was fairly well read I asked her to name some books he's written.
Marathon Girl rattled off a long list of books.
I muttered something about reading one or two of them then quickly changed the topic of conversation.
The next time I was at a bookstore, I located some Michael Connelly books.
My well-read inner voice screamed "No! Don't touch it! It's not for those with a well developed taste in literature like yourself."
I started to read one of his books. My well-read inner voice shrieked and died.
The next thing I know I'm four chapters into the book. A voice over the intercom announced that the store was closing in 10 minutes. I bought the book (but tuck it under my coat as I left least anyone I know would see I bought). The next day is Saturday. By noon I had finished the book and that night was able to talk with Marathon Girl about it.
She recommended more books and more authors. I start reading them and discover many of the books "well read" people shun are actually quite good. The writing style may not be that of, say, Tobias Wolff, but books are enjoyable authors do a great job developing the plot and creating characters readers care about -- something more "literary" authors have a difficult time doing.
(Please note that I'm not saying an author can't write well and have believable characters and a good plot, I'm simply stating that many "great" writers get caught up too much on the style of their writing instead of substance of their novel. )
Anyway, this last weekend I finally caught up with Marathon Girl on all the Michael Connelly reading. I finished The Last Coyote
Connelly does a masterful job of portraying a real but sympathetic character in detective Harry Bosch. This book is interesting because you see Bosch at the low point in his career -- he's on administrative leave from the LAPD, his house was seriously damaged by an earthquake, and his last romance has just left him. But instead of letting all this sink him into a depression, Bosch starts working on an the 30-plus-year-old murder case of a Hollywood prostitute who happens to be his mother.
Though English majors you may not be able to reek havoc with their secret decoder rings on it, it's a good, enjoyable read.
And thanks to Marathon Girl for opening my eyes to other good authors.
The Last Coyote 3 stars (out of 4)