It was too much tequila, or not quite enough.

People are always asking me for marathon training tips. I have to confess, I am not the best person to ask (I spent a full 3 weeks training for my second marathon). But this one thing I know: Sparks do not make for good running music...at least nothing the iPod felt like playing. For a couple of miles, everything that "shuffled" sounded like Bohemian Rhapsody...wow, I guess I'm not the first person to come to this conclusion:

”Simple Ballet” is opera-rock five years before Queen released “The Bohemian Rhapsody.” And, it’s seriously about as good as that song … and much weirder. (I do hope that I’m not committing blasphemy with such a statement!) It’s not really the finest song on this album, but it’s really quite delightful. The pompous cymbal keeps things classy. The piano is ever trusty in keeping the song moving, and an electric guitar keeps this song firmly within the genre of rock ‘n’ roll. Come on, you’ve got to at least check out this album so that you can show off to your friends that you found something that predates Queen. Seriously.

It is true, I have way too many CDs...and an obsolete iPod.

15 days till Jamaica!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Laughing at the sunrise, like he's been up all night.

Why would anyone want to start work at 6:00 AM?

I am too tired to remember...but I got here in less than 8 minutes.

Man, the sun doesn't come up for another half hour.

My apologies, that last post was not meant to be such a tease. Something has not happened yet, and even if it had: I have had no time to write about it.

In other news, I need better drugs. Keith Richard's father, he makes pure mescaline taste like ginger beer.

Something is about to happen.

Details to follow.

Fresno, no one goes to Fresno.

Evidently it's rainbow time in Fresno again. No, not that rainbow, this Rainbow. The one with all the weird alliterative names (like Gregarious Grizzlies, Pandering Pandas, Jumpin-Jesus Freaks). (I do believe the two organizations used to share a flag.)


It seems Tropical Heaven in 2007 is the theme for this year's assembly of the ole' clan. Wow, does this thing really go on for 4 days?

Some of you may have noticed, I am not a 12 year old girl; I have no ballroom dress; and hey, I was not even invited.

Therefore, I am now taking suggestions for things to do this weekend. Currently in consideration: running, bicycling, sailing, heavy drinking...that sounds like every weekend.

If you have a better suggestion, it must pass the official Rainbow test: It must be more fun than 12 year old girls walking around in ballroom dresses. (Dr. Laura does not approve of 12 year old girls walking around in ballroom dresses, either.) Also, the suggestion must in no way involve Service. This will be an anti-Service weekend.

Emancipate yourself from mental slavery. None but ourselves can free our minds.

From a guitar lesson I am reading today:

Also known as the "12 Bar Blues", this form was created in southern cotton fields by black slaves around the early 1900's.

I have spent way too much time wondering whether this sentence is a political statement or a typographical error. I should probably be working, or something.

The One Where Chandler Becomes Boss...

Actually, the episode was called: "The One With the Ick Factor"

Filling in (a tiny, little bit) for one of the supervisors for a couple of weeks. Already I have been called Bing. Loyal readers, please rest assured I have not grown up, and I am taking my career no more seriously than usual. In fact, today I am learning to play "Sittin on the Dock of the Bay" and "I Shot the Sheriff" in my cubicle. No, I did not bring the guitar to work...I guess I am just reading about learning to play "Sittin on the Dock of the Bay" and "I Shot the Sheriff". Tomorrow is Friday, I think I'll bring my guitar to work.

Keep on skanking...

Learned to skank tonight.

This will eventually be "One Love"

Hey, screw you. I never said I was very good.

I can play this here guitar...

(I was going to title this post "I got blisters on my fingers," but it sure feels like I already gave a post that title. I can't seem to locate it now, so maybe I just imagined giving a post that title.)

I am sure Snake Woman has written a guitar class post, but I am still boycotting her blog, so I cannot link directly to it. Actually, please support my boycott by not clicking that link; you can read a little about my guitar class right here:

I'm taking this guitar class at Coastline College. Coastline College is a strange college in that they have no campus; rather, the guitar class meets in the band room at Estancia High School. Class is frequently interrupted by band geeks getting and/or putting away their instruments.

A little too advanced for me, the instructor (a master guitarist), has scared most of the absolute beginners out of the class. (Please don't click that link.) If nothing else, the class has inspired me to play the guitar a little more often...every Monday as a matter of fact, with a couple of more senior classmates (Lee, world champion Harbor 20 racer; and Joe, amateur guitar builder). So last night, walking towards Lee's house on the beautiful Balboa Island, Joe and I get stopped by this old man who just happened to be an original member of the Kingston Trio. I am not sure if he was replaced by another third guy, or if he was the fourth member. He said he played with them at Stanford, but the rest of the band was too heavy into the drugs, so he had to quit the Trio. When I think banjos and matching striped shirts, I think hardcore narcotics, how about you?


I guess Lee invited him to play with us, but the former Kingston Trio member declined because he uses an unusual open C tuning, and cannot play a conventionally strung guitar. So instead of 1950s folk rock, we played Margaritaville a few dozen times. My fingers are killing me. Joe says my guitar needs new strings. Yeah, I rock.