The Ryndex

Alright, I have a backlog of posts that I’m going to try and push through this week. The photos in this one are my favorites from Duckie’s visit, nearly but not quite a year ago. I have another upcoming post from last Halloween and if I don’t get my act together, it’ll arrive sometime after this Halloween. There’s a particularly great one coming up from Lisbon, which dates from last April. Why did I get so behind in my posting? I’m not entirely sure. I still feel like I have things to say, and life’s continued to be interesting over here. Maybe I just needed to lay low for a while and appreciate life. Maybe I’m resting on my laurels — as I never hesitate to point out, I’ve been blogging longer than you.

Yup, I was writing travel logs five long years ago — just a weekly report to family and friends. I put them up on my personal site, along with photos. I wrote the comment subsystem myself, with a bit of guidance and inspiration from photo.net (back in the day, they had gems of programming advice hidden away here and there). Unfortunately, all of these first comments were lost in a database crash… my home-grown stuff [apparently] sucked.

Then I moved to PostNuke (overkill), then MovableType (poorly licensed), then fell into a bad crowd at Blogger. Actually, it was excellent and easy, but it didn’t feel like home. Finally, at bullet-biting time, I installed WordPress and moved everything here. It has a final destination.

What next? I’m probably going to play with some different themes. A friend drew a picture of the view from my window, and I’d love to base the look of my blog on that. Mostly, I’d like to keep up the me-based news for the me-based community. You know, continue to feel close and in touch with those family and friends that I miss. I’m very likely referring to you, in specific.

There’s my excuses, sorry I haven’t rapped at ya sooner. Let’s see if I can’t do better in the end half of 2007.

So, what’s been up? Well, apparently Elizabeth is getting back together with Anthony. I was rooting for Warren, myself; too bad he didn’t feel the same way. I don’t know… it just all seems a little too easy. And it’s not that I don’t like Anthony. He is obviously clinging to his past image of her, and she’s flattered (after crashing and burning so many times, so very recently…) But is that going to be enough to build on? Time is ticking down, and for better or for worse, she’ll never be able to change her mind. This is it: eternal 2007 for Liz and Mike, and their families. The growing up part is over.

We’re the lucky ones. We’ll get old in an inconstant world, fight and fall out, have our world shattered and forget why we made our choices… But we’ve got tomorrow to fix it all.

Anyway, back to me and my life. For those of you that missed out on my obsession for the first half of 2007, I ran the Paris Marathon. I followed an eighteen week training program that was pretty intensive (and I just took the Novice plan). It was a pretty big deal for me — but I’m more proud of sticking to the training than my actual finishing time.

It was 3 hours and 59 minutes, by the way. I was well on track for 3:45 until I hit the famous wall at about 36 kilometers. At that point, it wasn’t a question of determination or will-power. I was just empty… completely bonked. Not exactly tired or sore, but just nothing to power the legs! I finished by alternating running and walking 3 minutes at a time.

The funny thing is looking at it from the other side. Like so many things, it just doesn’t see so ground-breaking or life-shaking once it’s over. Just before the race day, I couldn’t have told you for sure that I would finish. Afterwards, it was obvious.

There’s a moral there, I’m sure. And it’s probably too obvious for me.

I finished the Harry Potter VII, and it was nice. I’m just maintaining my position in the hive pop culture mind.

So how about that weather? This spring was unseasonably warm, than goodness for my vacations in London and Lisbon. This summer has been kind of miserable — it feels like Paris winter skies.

I didn’t write about London, which is too bad. I had a really nice time. We ate quite a bit at Wagamama’s, which is a great concept — an English take on a Japanese noodle house. Noodly!

In fact, I don’t have any particular vacations planned for the near future. I’ll have to do exciting things in Paris, and write about them.

Nevertheless, I’ve managed to make a few picnics and brunches. Leisure must go on, especially bacon-oriented leisure. I’ve picnicked on the Seine, Bois de Vincennes (twice) and in a couple of small Paris neighbourhood parks. I brunched with my new waffle iron.

There’s some new friends in the picture: (a) some exciting connections made through blog land and (b) new arrivals in the family of the tried and true old gang. An old passing acquaintance became a great new friend. It’s all very exciting.

I’ve been thinking about buying an apartment in Paris. Haha — just kidding! I’m far from ready and my brain still explodes with anxiety at the sheer tonnage of process you have to eat.

Then again, it’s not like they’re going to get cheaper…

I found a great little French restaurant by my place. If I carefully consider my daily trajectories, I’d guess that I’ve walked past it about seven hundred times. The steak tartare is perfectly delicious (although the menu seemed to suggest that it was made from “little sister”).

Man, I miss going camping… but I have to admit, it’s starting to seem bizarre that any yahoo with a match is allowed to start a blazing fire in a protected natural park.

Once in high school, a dear and charming friend once suggested that Mornay sauce was actually code for excrement on your food. We laughed and laughed until Slurpee(tm) dripped from our noses. But I still don’t eat Eggs Mornay. They serve it from time to time in the work cafeteria, but it’s suspicious.

Wasn’t life a bit more fun when you made stuff like that up? OK, we were kids, carefully wacky and never too weird, but I’m convinced we were pretty clever at the same time. I remember once where we decided to sit silently at a restaurant, together but without talking. It was profound, and serious. And very nice.

Maybe I’ll just consider my long absence from blogging like sitting quietly with my friends in a restaurant, in companionable silence. We don’t need to fill the space between us with words…

… but there’s a certain fun relief in speaking up afterwards.

Tin Foiled Travel