run on sentences

Thanksgiving day was a good one, as most have been, for which I am grateful.  For some reason, though, I have never documented any of them for posterity.  I have two old diaries from 1968 and 1969.  I have running calendars logging daily events and runs since about 1996.   The only thing I mentioned in the diary from 1968 was that "we went to Ada's for dinner".  I have no memories of that one, but Ada was my mom and sister's friend when I was growing up.  She and her husband John, lived on a farm out in the country and had three boys and one daughter.  For a while, I babysat for them.  For some reason, as it happens sometimes, we lost contact with them.  I haven't seen Ada in years.  I wish I remembered her dinner. Most of my growing up memories of Thanksgiving are the ones I spent at Grandma Maxfield's house.  I don't remember ever going to grandma Ojanen's house.  I must have pictures to document our dinners with Grandma and Grandpa Maxfield somewh

Since I have had this blog, my goal has always been to write more posts each year than the year before.  If I am to do that, I need to do at least 15 more.  But I have a problem.  I can't just write stuff to write stuff.  I want it to have a point or a message or both.  Maybe my expectations of myself are way too high. To quote the late Harry Niilsen "A point in every direction is the same as no point at all...dig?"  So what is the point.  I write something, then let it simmer for a bit, and then rewrite, post or kill it.  Maybe I am too picky but I don't want to write about how bad my life is...it really isn't - I have a lot to be grateful for.  I won't write about work.  I like to write about running but sometimes I find myself repeating things - or at least I think I am repeating things...maybe that is okay though.  It's not like this blog has 1000 followers or is clever or has a theme to it.  Mostly it is about stuff that no one probably cares about bu

Well I got my hair cut short today.  I usually avoid short hair because in my mind, it makes me look stubby and square.  But it was time for something different - reinventing myself maybe?  I don't know but something possessed me to say to Joni "what would you do if I told you to do anything you wanted".  She laughed an excited laugh and told me - and I said "go for it".  She was so excited.  As for me, I am not yet so sure. I think I like it.  It makes me look perky...it is not the "helmet hair" or the pageboy of many women my age. I had enough of a perm left that it doesn't look flat and stuck to my head.  But I will miss my "pony hair" as Kseniya used to call pony tails. My imaginary friend Jennifer, when she saw it, flicked back her long blond, natural curly hair against her creamy shoulders and said "my husband likes me with long hair.  He thinks it is more feminine.  He thinks short hair is butch".  She flicked her per

Well another birthday rolls around.  I don't mind, like some people do.  Everyone eventually gets to the same place.  The only thing I mind about getting older is that I am sending out more sympathy cards than any other kind of cards.  I don't have my parents to call and wish me a happy birthday anymore - my mom and dad who are responsible for me being here and some of my good and bad habits.  I got my blue eyes from my dad and I see  him there some mornings when I look in the mirror.  I have good legs like my mama  had at one time and luckily enough I have a mixture of my dad's white blond Finnish hair and my mom's red - and I am so proud that it is not yet gray and I have never colored it.  As for the less than desirable things...I don't put stuff away always and I have their high blood pressure.  My dad gave me a love for old people and animals and my mom made me appreciate the little things - she always said "people come to see you and not your house"

Today as I was walking to my all day downtown meeting, after parking my car in the winding parking garage and getting disoriented when I came out on the street,  after going down four flights of stairs that  smelled of a recent fart, I noticed a young lad in sweatpants running towards me on the sidewalk.  He glanced my way and I said, "Good for you, I've already done that this morning too". Still running he  looked back, smiled the knowing smile of us smug runners, and said "How far djew go?" "About Five miles" I said.  Shortly after those words exited my mouth I realized I had lied.  My friend Becky was late so we had to cut it short to 3 and one half.  Oh well.  "I did 6" he said.  "We both did good already today". He ran off and I walked out of the nice morning and into my meeting. Somehow I felt better about the day and all day as I sat in my meeting I thought about it.  No matter what else happens in a day, the memory o