One Zombie Sunday

Okay, here’s the deal.

There’s this race I really want to run in. I’m only sort of a runner. Like, mostly I run on the treadmill, because it hurts less and I don’t trip as often as I do when I run outside. Plus, I don’t trust you people on the road- have you seen you drive?

The race is a 5k obstacle course. With zombies. Who try to eat your brains.

I know, awesome, right?

I’ve been asking around to try and find some people to run it with me. The race closest to where I live is just outside of Philly, on a Saturday in June. I’ll have to take two shows off work to do it, which means that anyone I work with would have to do the same (which means, Jonny, you can’t do it, because somebody still has to mix the show).

So far I have no takers. People at work don’t want to lose the shows. The young people in my house don’t want to exert the effort. The women that I train with- who are all fitter and younger than me- say they’re afraid of getting injured and then their households will fall apart without them. I hadn’t considered injury as a real possibility, but I am pretty sure that my household will be Just Fine if that happens.

The race is called Run For Your Lives. Are you in? Or am I gonna have to do this all by myself?

Don’t want to run ? You can be a zombie! Or a spectator. (Go Jules Go, I’m talkin’ to you!)

Prombie
Photo by ismellsheep via WANA commons

That was your picture. Here are your links:

So this woman named Beth Howard lives in the house from the American Gothic painting. You know, the one with the pitchfork and the farmer father and his spinster daughter? Yeah, she totally lives there! She wrote this great book too, called Making Piece and is pretty much on a mission to make the world a better place through Pie. Yes, Pie with a capital P. She runs the Pitchfork Pie Stand at the American Gothic House and teaches all kinds of people how to make pie, including urban high school students. This just may be one of my favorite blog posts from anyone of all time.  Wuz Up Wit Dat Hip Hop Pie Class on The World Needs More Pie.

Did you know Home Depot has a bondage aisle? 5 Things I Learned in Philadelphia or How To Love Your Double Life on 50 Dates in 50 States.

I’m including this one for my high school kids and anybody who has ever had to write a stupid repetitive essay: Since The Beginning of Time Mankind Has Discussed on The Onion.

In Thailand, 6 feet vomiting is still less expensive than 3.5 feet bloody. Just so you know. 3.5 Feet of Bad Blood on The Good Greatsby.

And finally, I leave you with a video that my Cirque du Soleil stage manager friend hipped me to. As she said, Layoffs? Not Funny. This Video? Funny!

Happy Sunday.

On why #5 got a stopwatch for Christmas

 

We had an impromptu Black Friday party at my house with a bunch of people that I like but don’t see nearly often enough.

#5 was the youngest person there. As you might imagine, he hit a wall where he had a shitload of energy to burn off and no way to do it. The open spaces in our house were full of glassware and adults. Neither of those are on a little boy’s Top Ten list of Favorite Things, so I made a suggestion.

Me: You look like you need to run around the house. Outside.

He gave me a look that was half-smile and half-eye roll. He knew exactly what this was about, but he likes running. He thinks he’s fast.

Me: Whaddaya say?

#5: Will you time me?

I tried to find a solution that didn’t require my participation.

Me: I’ll time you by the clock on the stove.

#5: How would that even work?

Me, sighing: I’ll get my phone. I’m pretty sure it has a stopwatch on it.

I set up at the back door with the stop watch function up on my phone.

#5, poised and ready: How many times?

Me: How about three?

#5: Three?!?! How about two?

Me: Okay, two.

#5: Good. Okay.

Me: Ready, set. . . Go!

He is pretty fast. And god bless him, he doesn’t do anything half way. Except maybe eat vegetables. He’s not a half-assed kid, in spite of his stepmom.

He came around from the second lap and I hit stop.

Me: 38.4 seconds

#5, breathing hard: That’s two-point-two seconds over my record.

Me: What’s your record?

#5: Seventeen seconds.

Me, taking a minute to catch up to his math: Oh.

We switch to one lap. He gets closer each time but setting a new record eludes him. He brings me outside to verify his route, asks if certain shortcuts are permissible.

He keeps running.

I keep timing.

After about twenty minutes I tell him that I’m going in to spend time with our guests, because I never get to see them.

#5: Can I keep running?

Me: Of course.

#5: But how will I time myself? How will I know if I broke my record?

We look at each other. We look at my phone. This is the only way I’m going to get a semi-interrupted visit with my guests, including my mother, who lives far away. But handing my phone over to a nine-year old boy so he can time himself running laps outside around the house seems ill-advised.

#5: I promise I won’t drop it.

And he gave me that super-cute, hopeful little boy look and I handed my phone right over. Had I had my wallet and car keys on me, I would have given him those too, and all my chocolate.

I went inside and joined the rest of my family.

He kept at it. I didn’t exactly get uninterrupted time with our guests, but I got time with them. #5 kept coming in to tell us his times and to ask our opinions on potential new routes. He began timing himself running around different obstacles, going on other parts of our property. He asked if he could run around the house backwards but since there are stone steps involved, we nixed that idea. He brought me out again to show how fast he could run up and down the hill and he slipped and slid the whole way down on his butt.

He did not let go of the phone.

My phone has an order of operations that is based solely on how much it can annoy you by interrupting what you’re trying to do. Incoming texts, missed calls, what have you- it makes sure to show you the least important information first in a way that makes it so you can’t get back to what you were trying to do in the first place.

Apparently, the stop watch function is not immune to this.

#5, running into the living room, completely out of breath: Oh, man, I can’t believe it! I was about to break my record and guess what happened? Somebody texted you!!!!

This happened three times before he finally gave it up. He gave me my phone back and sat quietly playing games with his sisters the rest of the afternoon.

Because he was tired.

Which, after all, was the whole point.

One and Done #7

Welcome to One and Done Sunday. One picture and five links that are worth your time.

I hesitated to use this picture. I think it’s a bit risqué for this blog. But then I thought, hey, maybe risqué will bring me more traffic. What the hell!

You can still say that you read this blog “for the articles”. I’ve been using that phrase successfully for years.

Playpuggle of the Month: Casey, Miss October 2011

And now, five links that are worth your time.

An excellent post from a lady who just ran her first half-marathon. Except she’s Canadian, so there’s some weird metric conversion and the number kind of makes it sound like she ran seven-eighths of the way to the moon. (Which really is what 13.1 miles sounds like to me anyway.) Jennifer at Joy Is So Yellow’s My First Half Marathon.

Theater people and writer people alike will get a kick out of this. Also, people who are a little bit jaded, yet funny. And not annoying. A.G. at Regected Riter’s How To Write A Broadway Hit.

Love opera? Hate opera? Seattle Opera Blog’s If Carmen and her friends were on Facebook (thanks Jeff for the link).

Christine at Quasi Agitato got featured on BlogHer (squee!). For those who don’t know, that’s like, a big deal. This is a great post if you’re thinking about crossing over to the dark side (as I like to call Twitter), or if you’re already there but your head is spinning. Also, it’s funny. Twitter Tips for Shy Tweople.

The best post about saying goodbye to your abuser on his death bed that you didn’t read this week: Diana Murdock I Am Now, Truly An Orphan.