Update-y thingy.

Some days, I wish I could be as hysterically hyper and random as datlowen. But then I realize that that would take too much energy. I'll settle for the random, I guess.

Anyway....

Ran yesterday morning. It was good, and it was fast. The problem was that someone fell into pace 5 steps behind me, making me feel like a rabbit. (The race kind, not the bunny kind.) My stupid stupid competitive streak won't let someone who is close to my pace overtake me, so I kicked it up a notch. Which made that person actually use me as a rabbit. Which made me run about 5 seconds faster than my usual race pace. I need to do that more often. Run faster, not be a rabbit. Although, if rabbiting makes me do that....

The word rabbit has now lost all sense to me. Rabbit rabbit rabbit.

Ahem.

So I ran in the morning, and then biked into work. I love my bike, as it is big and tough and was Robin's, but it has some bad habits that seem to be ingrained (hey, just like Rob!). Chain slippage, gears not quite in place, etc. I'll take it in again, but they haven't been able to find the cause yet. I'm only worried about the MN Red Ribbon Ride. My daily commute is one thing, but I'd prefer it to be in top shape for a ride that is 100+ miles per day.

Huh. Looking at the website, I see this year's Ride is sponsored by Chipotle. Huh. Well, at least I like their food, if not their corporate parent.

The upshot is, I'm biking in to work instead of walking in now. Which means I'm going to try to get in a 7-mile run tonight. We'll see if it works.



It looks like Zach and I have found an apartment. It's within spitting distance of the Walker museum (old Guthrie), garden-level (which I don't like), 2-bedroom, gigantic, etc. My biggest objection to the place is the bathtub. More specifically, the absolute lack of one and the slightly institutional feel of the shower room. Yes, shower room. The shower is bigger than some of the bathrooms I have had before.

My second objection to it is that it was clearly a gigantic studio apartment, and then they decided to put up some walls to make it a two-bedroom, so the interior walls are extremely flimsy.

Zach says it has sort of a bohemian feel to it, and he's right, even if the thought does make me sing "La Vie Boheme" from Rent. We're going to spend a small fortune on fabrics for draping and muffling and whatnot. We'll also probably be allowed to paint, which will be nice. I'm tired of white walls.

The best part about the place? Private entrance. There's a door that leads into the building proper, but there's also an entrance that goes right up and out into the street. You'd better believe that will be our main entrance.

All in all, not a perfect place. On the other hand, as I've been saying, 2004 is all about pushing boundaries. I tend to find places that are already perfect (see my last two apartments). This one can be made to be ours, and I think that's a good thing. I also think that I'll be doing most of the initial ours-making, as Z is, howdoyousay, hella busy for the next 6 months. And if it's truly hellish, we can move in a year. The joys of renting.

I keep staring

At this picture of my tats.

Actually, at the larger picture that shows more skin.

When I look at my back in the mirror, I don't see the variations in skin tone. Oh, I see some, of course, but not the almost mottled quality that occurs in the pictures. In the pictures, I can pick out where my waistband normally rides, old bruises that have left their mark, and just general life scars.

Looking at my tattoos forces me to contemplate a side of my self that I don't normally see and the subtle variations thereof. I kind of like that. To quote Alexa, "I've gone and found deeper meaning".

So.

I have to find my next tattoo. I have to decide what I want to commemorate or remind myself of next.