The Oak Desk

I recently made the decision that it’s past time to get rid of the roll top desk that sits under the window in our bedroom.  A roll top was something I’d always wanted.  I suppose I pictured myself sitting at that desk like some latter day Mark Twain; sipping expensive bourbon from a heavy crystal rocks glass, dipping pen in inkwell and writing the next great American novel.

When Things Fall Apart

I’ve achieved a new personal record as we runners like to say.  I now have a small collection of little amber pill jars; 3 actually.  That’s the most I’ve ever had at one time.  My previous personal best in pill jar collecting was two and it usually came after oral surgery; antibiotics and the ever popular Vicodin. 

Lance and Fair Play

“I’m deeply sorry for what I did.” ~ Lance Armstrong.

“He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone..”  ~ Book of John; Chapter 8.

Let’s make one thing clear from the start; I loathe drug cheats in sports.  And that’s both ironic and understandable because three of my favorite sports, baseball, cycling and track and field, have made as many headlines about doping as they have about competition. 

Dis-HEART-ened

It’s Tuesday the 8^th and I’m in bed by 7:30.  On a normal evening I would be relaxing after dinner and feeling good about the day’s run.  It’s not a normal evening.  My heart is doing its version of the Macarena or the Rhumba.  It’s pretty much a middle-aged white guy version of one of those dances; or any dance for that matter.  You see, middle aged white guys are supposed to be notorious for not having rhythm; I’m a prime example.  And so that about describes what my heart is doing; it’s beating to no particular beat; out of rhythm.  It’s a condition known as atrial fibrillation.  Those of us with a more intimate knowledge of the disease refer to it contemptuously as a-fib.

Stepping Away from the Clif

“I don’t want to go to work on my last day,” she said wistfully.  “I just want to disappear.  I don’t want the sad goodbyes.”  It was the first emotion that I had really heard from her on the subject. 

It’s been a month since that conversation, though it seems like nearly half a year has passed.  We were driving to her office Christmas party; her last.  My wife’s last day at Clif Bar was just two weeks away.  She was retiring from the company that had just 32 employees when she first started 15 years ago; when it was still in the shadow of Power Bar.  Now Clif is a major player and the company boasts over 300 employees and still growing. 

Discarding Christmas

Six A.M. of a rainy day after Christmas; dreary, dark and cold.  Driving to work with the relatively few others of the sleepy and depressed on the freeway; and wondering why.  I guess this is how it is on the day after Christmas.

Christmas Potpourri; 2012 Edition

Christmas is a season for kindling the fire for hospitality in the hall, the genial flame of charity in the heart.~ Washington Irving 

Its Christmas Eve morn and I’ve just braved the crowds at Andronico’s, one of the areas high end food stores.  Cora doesn’t see much use for such stores unless we need something that’s actually good to eat; fresh produce, quality meats, cuts that you don’t find at the local market and fish that wasn’t raised on a farm.  Today’s mission was to get some good bread, crusty pain au lavain from San Francisco’s Acme Bakery.  On my way to checkout I grabbed a boxed pandoro, a sweet Italian bread, dusted with powdered sugar to resemble the snow covered Alps.