Showing posts from September, 2011

Failure to Communicate

I read the other day that blog comments are down while less labor- and thought-intensive "likes" and "recommends" are up. A Pew study shows people 18 to 24 now text rather than talk 60% of the time, according to a radio report I cannot find online at the moment. Meanwhile, politicians and privacy advocates are urging the government to do something with the invasive policies of Facebook, which apparently tracks your online activity long after you sign out. My guess is 559.99 million of its 600 million users don't really care. I just tried to post comments to three blogs (all Blogger) and none were recorded. I have limited time as it is, so this is particularly frustrating. I don't "like" it one bit. But at least you wouldn't know I did it unless I told you here. Sometimes I'm glad to be behind the times and the technology.

Wordless Wednesday


Sleepless in San Diego

On Friday I had to leave work early due to a migraine headache. It came as we were celebrating a co-worker's 40th birthday. One minute I was snapping photos for our Facebook Fan Page and the next I was lying on the carpet in an empty (and mercifully dark) room wondering when I'd again vomit and when I’d again feel the left side of my face. This one seemed to come out of nowhere until hours later, when I finally made it home and into my bed, I remember it had rained. That meant the barometric pressure had changed, and that’s the trigger. I ended up sleeping for almost 14 hours and woke ready to tackle the hill up to Lake Ramona via Blue Sky Preserve with my Saturday running group. It’s ideal training for a trail race coming up in a few weeks. And I felt surprisingly good for the ordeal I’d just been through. I think it was the sleep. Like the majority of Americans, I don’t get enough of it. And like a lot of people with sleep issues, I can so relate to this op-ed piece in th

Project Me

Earlier I shared steps that I took over the summer to improve my overall health . Everyone reaches a stage in middle life where serious self-evaluation is needed. I do not begrudge my many years of running, but I do now see that my dedication has done some real damage. Here’s what I am doing now to try and make it up to me. Maybe you can learn from my mistakes. 1. Maintain a healthy weight. We all know our metabolisms slow as we age, though many don’t slow as much as we think. Instead, our appetites grow along with our income, especially once we hit our 40s. We also tend to have desk jobs by then because fieldwork is for younger folks. Now that I live in a much smaller home with very limited pantry space, it’s easier for me to not eat as much or as often. So if diets haven’t worked for you, consider the “scarcity” model and only stock, at most, a week’s worth of meals. And, of course, try not to eat too many empty calories in the name of carbo-loading. 2. Improve flexibility

Wordless Wednesday (a.k.a. Happy Feet)


Wordless Wednesday


The Powers That Be

Our neighborhood at 9 p.m. I was in an afternoon meeting when the power went out. We've been having record heat, so everyone knew the grid was under duress. Then someone came in to say it wasn't a brownout but a blackout. Then someone else said it wasn't just San Diego but much of Southern California. Then the same person looked up from her smartphone and said it actually extended from New Mexico into Baja (the real Mexico). Then I knew I had to try and get home to my 97-year-old grandmother. Just imagine hundreds of thousands of people simultaneously pouring out of nearby buildings (if they weren't stuck in elevators or underground trolleys) and hitting the same narrow downtown streets and already clogged freeways when all of the traffic lights are out, gas stations are closed and ambulances are exiting hospitals en mass. That was my commute. The same situation played out everywhere in San Diego County yesterday as a power outage originating in Arizona created a

At Least Criminals are Colorful Here

Remember me saying that our new neighborhood was safe, given we had 24-hour security and the San Diego Police Station was right down the block? Well, this 7-Eleven is about a quarter mile from that police station too. Just in case the embedded video doesn't work:

This Hits Too Close to Home

We were at our former home today (for the last time, I hope!) when I saw television trucks go by and discovered two teenagers were raped in the greenbelt just up the street. I must have slept through the helicopters immediately after it happened because everyone else seemed to know about it. It happened over the holiday weekend and around 8:15 p.m., when there were still people out and about and a party going on down the street. Heck, I've taken Maggy on walks at that hour in the exact same place and never felt unsafe. This is the same park I ran past every single morning (usually dark) for four years. It's also the same park where the first two Christmas Card Lane Fun Runs began and ended. Normally when police helicopters circle overhead, it's because of a brush fire in Los Penasquitos Canyon Preserve or because someone on a skateboard just robbed a Wells Fargo branch (true story...he got away with it too). I haven't felt this vulnerable and angry since a woman run

Many Magic Erasers and Meltdowns Later...

I can’t recall a move this painful and protracted, but that may be because in the past all of our relocations have been to lateral or larger homes and therefore it was just a matter of making a few Goodwill runs, giving the old place a good scrub and then excitedly arranging new rooms. What didn’t immediately fit always could be stored in an attic, garage or basement. Until now. We halved the size of our living space and with that came a lot of soul-satisfying giveaways and weepy trips to trash bins. I did have one cheat, renting a 5x6 storage unit to keep some heirloom furniture and boxes of sentimental stuff because there’s only so much my maternal heart could handle. My husband and sister had long accused me of being a pack rat, which I’d always denied because our homes never looked cluttered. And yet when I hung up my sixth never-used robe, I had to admit they had a point. And when I counted my 12th – 12th! – blanket, I had to admit I had a problem. One closet and dres