On May 30, 1986, I got my braces off, after years of wearing all kinds of contraptions in my mouth. These photographs were taken at my first orthodontics appointment- around 1977. Mug Shot or Chuck Close photograph?




[Forgive me, Analog, for dwelling in your photo blog territory. ]

[Sister and Brother Chiera in SF]

[Aunt Sue in Lake Tahoe]

[Twin Brother in San Ramon, CA ... 1977]

[Twin Brother in Hawaii ... yesterday, 2003]

[Another family portrait from Summer 2000 ... Anna as Matriarch]

[summer 2000]

Which CAPGAS member are you?
(Seattle chapter of CAPGAS, that is)
brought to you by Quizilla


And Jack asks: What the hell is wrong with you?!?
brought to you by Quizilla


You're ok. Actually, I kind of like you. We should
be friends.

I'm out of blogging words for the time being- the rest of my world seems to be stealing them. So for the next week or so I'm borrowing the idea from Analog to present a week in pictures.



I couldn't have known Anna for more than a week, here with Bettina.

Hey, where's Nick?

I've been dreaming about spiders- in three nights of the past week, in fact. One night I awoke from a frightening dream in which huge, furry spiders were falling from my hair (which was long and girlish- go figure). Although I went right back to sleep, determined to shake the fright, I slipped right back into the dream scene. Funny thing, though- this this time I had no fear; I calmly pulled the creatures from my hair and clothes. Last night I tossed and turned with a stomach ache, and once more dreamt of spiders. I was spooked, for reasons I can't quite remember, and the feeling has stayed with me all day.

The last time I dreamt of spiders it was right before MSG and I moved into our new place last fall. And I seem to recall hearing that dreams of spiders indicate change. I wonder what's next.

Shhhh, maybe I'll surprise MSG and take him here this weekend.

"Muck On The Button " will be a collaborative art show involving fourteen artists designing a deck of playing cards, each artist creating one number or picture card with its four suits. The art work will be printed into a deck of cards, which will be used in a Texas Hold'em poker tournament to be held on Friday & Saturday May 16th & 17th. All the original Art work for the cards will be shown in the gallery. Decks of cards will be available during the run of the show.

MM in the land of the little people.



(that's my aunt on the far left)

CLICK HERE to send free faxes to your Senators about Bush's tax & budget cutes (MoveOn-sponsored). Took me less than a minute.

Quote of the day, from Maureen Dowd:

Still, it's funny that Wal-Mart decided to censor laddie magazines the very same week the Bush administration soared with laddie politics.

In excellent CAPGAS form, Peter has been writing to his Australian leaders, questioning their various "lamentable" positions. Check out his terrific letter to the Premier of Queensland (April 23rd post), and most recent letter to Prime Minister John Howard (May 7th post).

Here's the brief letter I banged out earlier this week to the Indianapolis Mini-Marathon management and planning committee, regarding the offensive ideological representation at the event.

Dear Indianapolis-Life Mini-Marathon Management and Planning Committee:

I just returned to Seattle, having flown out to Indianapolis for the mini-marathon on May 3, 2003. It was my first race, and I enjoyed the experience quite a bit. There was one aspect of the weekend, however, that really bothered me- the ideological, political, and religious representation in the entertainment and volunteer activity.

I love the idea of the entertainment along the course, and I appreciated most of the acts- they were encouraging, energetic and enthusiastic. I was VERY offended, however, by the political and ideological representation. The Christian-themed music seemed VERY inappropriate and offensive for the event. The military presence was also highly offensive to me.

As the largest mini-marathon in the country, this event draws people from all over the place (like myself- I came from Washington state); rather than alienate your guests, I suggest that you try to be more inclusive (less ideological) when planning the entertainment and volunteer activity. While individuals may choose to represent their own beliefs during the race, there is absolutely no reason for the organization itself to endorse particular beliefs.

This does not “enhance the image” of either Indianapolis or Indiana. While I enjoyed the race, I will think twice about participating again.

The Running Woman- some details

I can’t believe The Race is in the past tense. A huge thanks to you all who supported and encouraged me, and to the Capgassers for last night’s welcome home gathering. I really felt like you were all there with me, running alongside. I’ve been positively glowing with all your encouragement, advise, and love.

I arrived in Indiana late on May Day, two nights before The Race, MSG's milagros and PainKiller's lucky charm in hand. After a month’s moratorium on beer I gave in at the Chicago airport bar, when my flight was delayed for hours. And the next night, in Indianapolis, I carried on with some friends from my Purdue undergraduate days, drinking beer and eating German sausages, cheese, and pâté. Needless to say, I was dubious about my success the following morning.

Unable to sleep peacefully that night, I consoled myself with all the literature I’d read while training somewhat obsessively. Evidently if you’re well rested, hydrated, and carb-protein loaded, it really doesn’t matter what happens the night before the race. My body supposedly knew what to do, and I decided to trust that.

After nearly missing CK among the thousands of other runners, we got our start together at 8:03 A.M. With so many people, we didn’t actually cross the start line for another 10-15 minutes, and it took a little while for the crowd to thin out enough to run. The first 6 miles were a breeze- shockingly. CK and I ran and chatted, getting a huge kick out of all the excitement on the sidelines- people cheering us on, young cheerleading squads (bring it!), and terrible local bands. Being the land of Guns-n-Roses, most of them were a variation on a theme- lots of permed hair, tight jeans, and V-shaped guitars. Over the rest of the course, other entertainment included a barbershop quartet, a surf/punk band, some kind of bluegrass sound, and a few Jesus-loving rock bands. I definitely knew I was in the Midwest, and it was definitely creeping me out (there were even military crews helping with the water and Gatorade- ugh).

Anyway, the first 6 miles were the easiest I’ve ever run, and before I knew it we were running the Indy-500 racetrack. Those 2.5 track miles were placed just about in the middle of the course, and it was there that I had my first indication of difficulties to come. Just as we made our way around the track, I was beginning to tire and pant with thirst; my shorts were riding up, chaffing the insides of my thighs. That’s when we stopped to use the portable toilets (all that damn beer from the night before ending up costing us a good 5 minutes or so).

I felt particularly unstable hopping back up to a running pace at this point; my legs felt too bouncy and unruly to be mine. Shortly, however, I regained my composure and strength, just about the time we found my uncle and cousins on the sidelines. CK and I stopped for the photo-op and I dumped my jacket- it was around mile 8.

Hitting mile 9, knowing I was embarking on unfamiliar territory, I still felt great- full of strength and energy. I was elated and grinning at all the freaky shit around me. CK and I were still able to carry on conversation, catching up on all the rich discussion we’d been missing from each other over the last few months.

It was mile 10 that I began to feel some real pain- my chaffed thighs and blistered feet were screaming out to me. CK had just recovered from her own dragging moment, and was trying to console me: “Just 3 more miles,” she insisted, “it’s only 30 or so minutes. We can do anything for that long. Just imagine we’re running one lap around Greenlake in Seattle.” That didn’t do anything for me- I was huffing and puffing, and flinging myself across the pavement. CK and I were barely talking to each other at that point, and when we did it was with weak whispers.

After what felt like the longest mile of my life, we hit mile 12. With 1.1 miles to go, I finally knew for certain that I could finish this thing. CK and I yelped at each other, egging each other on, and picked up the pace. People all around us were dropping to impoverished walks, yet we pushed on, passing them with our last pockets of energy.

I was rushing to the finish line, and right around mile 13, with just a tenth of a mile to go, I raised my pace to a sprint. Although this was my initial strategy, I had long given up on the notion to try it. But somehow I found that macho inside me, and flew to the finish line in long, quick strides. I was almost in tears by that point- 2 hours and 33 minutes after I had started. The experience was exhilarating, exciting, terrifying, painful, and tons of fun- I'm sure to do it again. Here's a photograph of CK and I after the race, and one of my blistered feet (May 6 entry).

Welcome to my new blog home, thanks to Rick/Jack.

This blog is moving! Please change your links to indicate:

http://capgas.org/mdm/