Training Log Archive: barb

From home to Izzy's game.

It must have been a good speech, as I woke up this morning from a dream in which I was talking to Obama, at our school, where he came to visit, and he was listening to me. I even mentioned orienteering, but then he had to go to the bathroom so he didn't get a chance to ask some more questions about it, and I didn't get a chance to ask him to do a rogaine with me. But we were going to have lunch.

What I like: building high-speed rail, high-speed internet, green energy. Wish we could significantly dismantle the military-industrial complex and convert a lot of those engineers into schoolteachers. Not so keen on military recruiting at colleges as for me it was never so much about DADT as it was about chickens. Peace through not waging war, basically, like happiness through not rogaining. And avoiding war partly by not building up the huge machinery to wage it with, the death-dealing machines and troops sitting around, tempting you, as a seemingly viable solution to protect and expand the opportunities for the corporations you feel beholden to for one reason or another. Seems like national security is far better served in other ways.

The idea of starting over with the tax code? OK... Especially the part about rebalancing our system of which corporate sectors we're subsidizing relative to others.

Don't really mind the jujitsu with the earmarks & the 5-year-hold on discretionary spending, yet, though the latter is going to be a sore point with my scientist buddies who are seeing the grant money shrinking. How are we going to do all this innovation and education without the cash? Maybe the rich people can start donating voluntarily.

work. Jogged a little.

Rogaining committee meeting last night. We spent the whole time not rogaining. It was fine. If complex.

Went bowling with David, Izzy & Eva today. They enjoyed it.

In snowstorm, to conference. Nice to be out walking!

Yum.







Maybe we'll move on to insect production as a natural next step in this urban farming adventure.

C • Hey... 3

C • Yum! 3

To work.
A mix of shuffling along and just walking. But I'm inordinately pleased to have gotten any exercise at all, as I am in a major rut.
Toe still hurts.
The chickens seemed to me to be suffering from all the cold. Runny noses, hoarse voices, that kind of thing. So I packed each hen into a bankers box and brought them indoors last night.

Home, in rain, lots of slush and deep puddles. I picked up burritos for the rest of the family on the way.

Yay - I made the daily phone call. To Bill Cusworth.

Went ten-pin bowling with Izzy yesterday, and got to watch Ian working on improving his form, which is already quite fluid and watchable. And certainly much more effective than mine or Izzy's. The kids and I recently viewed a very funny couple of bowling scenes in "Dakota Skye", which is a silly romantic movie I quite enjoyed. And even recommend.

Spent a little while this morning googling scientific studies of meditation, something that Terry might be getting interested in. Here is a tidbit for you, dear reader: caveats from a distinguished professor in response to public excitement about research showing lasting improvements to brain and immune function. Caveats, but with hopeful anticipation of an explosion in scientific interest in the practice.

One paper I looked at talked about the state of "self-dissolution". (The point of the paper was the researcher's ability to distinguish different brain wave patterns of different types of meditation: visualization, verbalization, self-dissolution, and self-reconstitution.) I decided a rogaine is one long intense meditation.

Planted onion and impatiens seeds in the basement, and turned on the grow lights.

Talked to John in Seattle for a while yesterday. I was cleaning the refrigerator at the time, and the pace of the call was almost langorous. Pauses while scrubbing. John seemed at ease with this. It was like spending time with someone, as opposed to the usual efficient telephonic exchange of information. We talked about the idea of doing some orienteering related thing at Burning Man, about John's upcoming life transition (not defined yet; but the perhaps mostly financial need to change something is becoming more pressing), and about rogaines we might do and music we might experience. I even asked him, mildly, without pushing for a response, if he would like to help out on some ORC business. I did try to frame this as a possible way to meet more beautiful women, but that was just out of old habit, as he has a sweetie now and so that might be less of an inducement.

Thinking about starting to plant this weekend.

C • It looks like you should be... 1

John offers this as explanation.

David's final project in English was to rewrite a scene from Macbeth, and make a storyboard. David chose the banquet scene. Warning - it is, like the original play, bloody.

Scene 1
Setting is a pine forest, early morning. Enter Robert.



ROBERT
Here’s a fine spot. There mustn’t be another soul around for miles—and the buck’ll be in full concentration out of hunting season; I’d reckon I have a good chance of earning my first trophy within the hour. Hark—could it be? By god, here comes one now!



Enter runner. Robert fires and kills runner.



ROBERT
Dear lord, what have I done? By this accursed weapon (gestures to rifle), I have ended the life of an innocent man. What to do, oh, what to do? Quickly, I must hide the body and veil any evidence that might betray me of this most gruesome act. There—in the hollow beneath yonder old growth, I shall stow away my poor victim and provide a leafy blanket to further obscure his flesh and bones.

Robert drags runner’s body to hollow in bottom of large oak tree, covers front with leaves.



ROBERT Now away, to forget the events of this hellish morning by way of its termination.

Exit Robert.



Scene 2

Setting is small pub, early evening. Large counter center stage with three stools. Television screen in upper-left corner of room. Bartender behind counter. Enter Robert.



ROBERT (aside)
In this here safe haven, I will drown my guilt with alcohol. No one shall suspect, and I shall never speak of the man in the woods to anyone; seems best not to think of it neither for fear if something should slip. (Looks around).

ROBERT (to bartender)
Gimme a shota your strongest whiskey.

Enter Robert’s friends William and Homer.



WILLIAM and HOMER
Hey, Bob.

ROBERT
Bill. Homer.

William and Homer sit at two unoccupied seats.

William (to bartender) I’ll ‘ave a pint o’ your best brandy, if you please, good sir.

Homer (to bartender) Aye, and one for this old meat sack too.

Enter news broadcast spokesperson on television screen.



SPOKESPERSON
Earlier this afternoon, Edinburgh police discovered the body of 34-year-old Philip Harrison approximately two and half miles from his home south of the city.

Robert stares up at television. Homer and William glance up in turn.

SPOKESPERSON
Family of Harrison’s report that he was out training for the annual Edinburgh Marathon when his mother heard the shot and called the police.

ROBERT (aside)
God is mocking me now; I see it. How could I have been so foolish? Anyone could have been in that forest. And why couldn’t I have thought to place the body in the earth or somehow conceal it with more effort, for god’s sake? (To all) 'Twasn’t me, I swear it! But 'twas a worthless, moronic brute who’d done it. If his shoes were mine, I would’ve turned myself in at once—

WILLIAM Eh, what have you, Bob? What wasn’t you?



Exit television Spokesperson. Broadcast cuts to commercial break.

ROBERT Oh, nothing. Never mind it. I was speaking from a childhood memory is all.



William and Homer down their drinks. Robert indicates for another shot of whiskey. Commercial break ends. Enter Spokesperson.



SPOKESPERSON
34-year-old Philip Harrison was shot this morning while training for the annual Edinburgh Marathon. Police have no leads on the murderer but suppose the victim was shot with a long-range hunting rifle.

ROBERT
There 'tis again! They are taunting me, filling me with guilt that is not mine!

HOMER
Come off it, man! What in gods name are you going on about?

SPOKESPERSON
People who knew Harrison and others like him are aware of the overwhelming competitiveness that contestants of the Marathon feel with regards to one another, and they suggest the murder was most likely committed with the intent to eliminate strong competition in the Marathon.

ROBERT
It is late. I must be going.

Exit Robert. Then exit William, Homer and the bartender.

C • Very cool... 2

Hm, I think I failed to call anyone yesterday.

More amazing snowflake pictures (click on picture to see more) - "rien de semblable"



Toe red & swollen.

out to Arlington, to work, home. Quite cold. Nice to be out.
My toe actually still hurts.

OK, barely made the phone call today; had to be reminded by the person I'd arranged to talk to. (Thanks, Tim!) I'm lame.
Nice conversation with Tim about things like the challenges of high school kids orienteering.

OK, I have decided on a belated new year's resolution. Make at least one phone call a day.
As an introvert, this is hard for me.
Today's phone call was to PG.
I felt like I was on a roll so I also called Joanna Lemmon, who does youth programs at the AMC. I'll be meeting with her Monday to talk about whether NEOC resources (maps, events, curricula, people) might be useful for youth programs run by the AMC around the Boston area. I think it could be a great partnership, to slot into some existing programs with actual paid staff...

C • Resolution 4

So I wrote a little blog piece at work about snowflakes and how a company is like a snowflake, shaped by its environment = corporate culture. It was pretty lame, but hey. Then that night I read this piece by Adam Gopnik in the New Yorker, about how people are like snowflakes; we start from very similar crystal seeds and then grow into beautiful and unique flakes (or something) shaped by the particular set of conditions we see as we float down out of the sky (or something).

Another potential rogaine partner for the list: Assange. Has both chicken experience and mad fence-crossing skillz.

C • Assange 2