January 2009
32 posts
Notes of a Freelancer →
“Several years ago a small group of Buddhist teachers and psychologists from the...”
– [Source], though homegirl Sheri at LL is the one who told me about this. Interesting, right?
Question.
If I went to yoga this morning and had to borrow shorts from the lost and found because I forgot mine at home (I know, gross), and I told the nice woman who runs the studio that I’d wash them and return them to the lost and found the next time I come, but instead I decide that they’re really nice shorts and maybe I should think about keeping them—because it is yoga that we’re...
“The point may soon come when there are more people who want to write books than...”
– Self-publishers flourish as Writers Pay the Tab
Something about my experience working for a lot of sub-par book publishers who extoll the virtues of “volume publishing” makes me think that this point arrived years ago.
“Love had a thousand shapes. There might be lovers whose gift it was to choose...”
– To the Lighthouse
A deep sigh for Mrs. Ramsay, who is everywhere and nowhere.
Watchmattgaymon:
Joey Fatone, you are a penis.
Someone needs to tap this market →
Mad Tasty →
A “collective cooking think tank” that I’m writing for periodically.
PoopGroup: Sh*tty →
My Frosted Angel Food Cake on MadTasty →
“One big reason so many women stop breast-feeding is that more than half of...”
– from “Baby Food,” by Jil Lepore
“Sometimes it’s scary to do what your mind knows is right.”
– Mary Dana at Laughing Lotus; there is a tie-in to the Bhagavad Gita here.
File under “Obvious things that are sometimes really good to remind yourself of.”
“Now, I realize that a world of women-driven romantic comedies and dramas filled...”
– Entertainment Weekly review of My Best Friend’s Wedding
sometimes it’s fun to tap the vaults.
The gays, we discover a small point of contention... →
angry commenters! poor Bobo!
Who in the hell ever has leftover wine? →
26.cold weather running advice
Bundle up in thin layers. Leave the North Face at home. I don't care if you can barely see through the snowfall; if you wear your bulkiest jacket on a run, you will overheat. Promise.
If you choose to run in icy elements, slow down. Those extra fifteen minutes to get from A to B and back again will seem like mere seconds compared to the months you need to recover from sprains, breaks, and muscle tears.
Some body parts need coverage more than others. Wear close-fitting runner's gloves (preferably with liners), headbands to protect your ears, and a breathable cap. 30% of all body heat escapes through the head, so don't underestimate the power of a hat to keep your temperature in check.
If you can, splurge on a quality pair of running tights. They will last forever, and they will keep your legs cool and dry. The same goes for a light-weight, wicking jacket.
There are lots of brands that offer great cold weather gear at every price point. My long-sleeve running tops, running tights, and shell layers are all by Champion for Target. I wear The North Face fleece headband and hat because I like to pretend I am still a Midwestern college kid. Jaggad, an Australian triathlete company, made my reversible jacket, and Nike my mock-turtleneck lined top layer. Other good brands include De Soto and Asic.
If you have trouble stepping out the door when it's below freezing, remind yourself that you are not going for a stroll; you will be RUNNING. Trust that your body will warm up. By the time you finish the first mile, you'll be cursing the oppressive January heat.
Now is a great time to squeeze in a last-minute three- or four-miler before going out. Seriously. You're not going to sweat THAT much, so why not hit the pavement for twenty minutes before that party? Your beer will come with less guilt, and you'll boast a rosy glow.
How to Clean a Yoga Mat →
A Piece of the Storm
For Sharon Horvath From the shadow of domes in the city of domes, A snowflake, a blizzard of one, weightless, entered your room And made its way to the arm of the chair where you, looking up From your book, saw it the moment it landed. That’s all there was to it. No more than a solemn waking To brevity, to the lifting and falling away of attention, swiftly, A time between times, a flowerless...