run on sentences

So far I have knitted (knat?) two pair of socks.  I gave both of them away to people I love.   I will give away many pairs of socks, but only to people who I  know will appreciate them. I wrote about my first pair of socks already but here is a picture of my second pair: It occurred to me that making socks is as addicting as running marathons (or half marathons or 5ks) can be.  You make one pair after gathering up your courage to tackle the turning of the heel and the picking up of stitches for that so called gusset, or as I call it, "gasket".  Then, encouraged, you race to the toes and maybe slow down a bit - but the end is in sight so you keep going.  When you are done,  for a while, you don't want to do the other one, but you do, because you can think of a million different things to do that will make the next pair even better....like knitting tighter (or looser) or doing the toe in a different way or making the ribbing longer and the sock come...

My sister and I talk about how we never realized we were poor growing up.  Maybe it was because there were a lot of other people who had less than we did and no one was really rich.  Or maybe it was because our parents loved us and never let us forget it.  Our house sounded like the "little house on the prairie" show.  Every night we would say "Good night mom, I love you" or "good night dad, I love you" several times - maybe to  make sure they were still there or maybe for reassurance that they really did love us. Christmas was always a special time.  Once one of the neighbor ladies who was of the proper shape and girth, dressed up as Santa Clause and peeked in the window at my sister.  My sister, who exhibited sleuth like qualities at a young age, followed the footsteps to the neighbors house and figured it out.   I was too little (or "still walking in front of my father" as my dad always said) to remember this one but I do remember when my un...

....but a pasty, lying on the sidewalk so clear. a pasty.  On the sidewalk.  In Salt Lake City? Okay it is not the best poetry, but I am still puzzled over how this seemingly perfectly baked pasty showed up on the sidewalk, a block below the high school?  No one, or at least not many people in this city, beautiful as it is, knows what a pasty is even. Jack and I were running along yesterday on a cold but sunny day, minding our own business.  I could see something lying on the sidewalk ahead of me, which isn't too unusual...sometimes there are bagels, old french fries, or bags from the many nearby fast food joints...but a pasty?  Never.  As I approached it, I stopped and stared.  Jack wanted to sniff it and eat it of course.  I got off the sidewalk and circled it suspiciously, wondering if I was going crazy or just so homesick that I was hallucinating?  Maybe my wild college days finally caught up with me and I was having flashbacks? ...

Yesterday I knew I had to run because we were going to get a bad windstorm that afternoon.  I was actually looking forward to it and felt good.  Jack could sense we were going to go so kept coming in and nudging me as if to say, "Now?" Jack's favorite "waiting" pose" I got dressed, primed the ipod with some good Christmas tunes and we headed out the door and up the hill, listening to Barbara Streisand singing "Raindrops on roses...etc"...not one of my favorite things, but it seems if I skip a song I am not fond of, my pod gets back at me by playing it more often. I was just doing the usual 5 mile loop and Jack and I, both of us having a good day it seemed, ran along, enjoying the familiar scenery.  It amazes me that even though I do this route a lot, I often see things I have never seen before or at least noticed.   It is Christmas tree season (began about two weeks ago) so the neighborhood Smith's Marketplace has their Christmas trees...