Holy Crap, It’s November Already
The lane in late summer
The lane in early fall
The Dyalogues site has finally launched. J and I are in the top three of Dyaloguers!!! Dyaloggers??
Out looking at leaves, I saw black spots I didn’t think much about until I inspected more closely. I found they were more than dead areas, they were colorful, with magenta tones. They were marked, the fungal growths, in patterns like circuit boards or fingerprints. Fascinating.
Saw a video from Rage Against the Machine. What a work of art, the mass movement of the crowds…A guy is holding up a sign at one point that reads Anger is a Gift. That pleases me enormously. I enjoy my anger. Am am incomplete without my anger.
I discussed in my Flying Tiger Progress Report that I was ill with food poisoning. This is my fifth time (lifetime) and fourth time in the last two years to become sick. This bout has been blamed on an expired homemade batch of hummus. I still don’t understand how it got me. It looked fine, smelled ok, wasn’t slimy. Hummus is a tricky food.
Thankfully, this time was relatively quick and not as severe as the last time, when I ended up in the hospital. I was lying in bed, feeling cold. But I’m always cold. I figured I just needed to huddle Jimmy a little more. Three hours later, my body woke me with a terrible need to find the bathroom. Then the nausea, the relentless chills.
When it all culminated in one horrible trip to the bathroom where my body did its level best to rid me of everything inside, I finally began to feel better. I forced myself to shower (doubled over) and brush my teeth before returning to bed. J was the sweetness, bringing me medicine, letting me sleep in and making me healing tea the next afternoon. He watches out for me like a mother hen and berates himself when I eat something that makes me ill.
The next day, we had a blissful three hour nap in the afternoon. I got up early (for me, noon is early) for a conference call and then tried to start working. I turned into a crabby mess, racked with pains and finally gave in and went to lie down. After half an hour, J joined me and kept me warm company. The tv was on and I dreamed that Dr. Phil was flirting with me. I also had another in a run of sexy dreams that I attribute to the practice once again building energy that is taking a sexual form. Unusual was that the dream was as vivid as it was and resulted in an orgasm.
Behold! The World’s Smallest Tomato
We went for a run, stirred up game birds just a few yards from home. A covey of quail took off over the top of the corn. The next run was one small part of the longest day ever. I found myself looking back on events, only to realise they’d happened a few hours ago. The run was good, the work went well…that’s why it went on and on.
The following run day was an abysmal showing on my part. Recovering from food poisoning and another bout with virus. Or so I want to believe. I felt like I needed a transfusion. Chest pains, side pains, leg pains, back pains. At least I always finish the course. It may be walking, but I finish. That’s one of the positives about working out on the road. It is no closer to home to turn around. Once I’m out there, I may as well go the whole way around. Unlike with the treadmill, where the choice to simply step off is a constant temptation.
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