Last night as I headed home from work, I passed the one and only Jackie Hoffman, walking right past my building! She looked like she was talking to herself. But then, I probably did, too. I think, if I achieved any level of recognizability, I’d spend a few weeks trying not to do anything weird in public, and then I’d forget about it, or give up, and go back to talking to myself and wobbling in my high-heeled shoes as I normally do. Anyway, seeing Ms. Hoffman in person reminded me that I haven’t seen her in Xanadu yet, a situation I’m hoping to remedy very soon.
I’m afraid my life has been too busy for blogging lately. Too busy for blogging, maybe, but not too busy for jogging! This morning I went for a short run around the neighborhood, and I returned home feeling very proud of myself. You need to know that running voluntarily is extremely out of character for me. Leaving the house at any speed before I’ve had my coffee is equally unheard of. But I’ve been meaning to change that for some time now: A few years back, someone slightly older and wiser (and even more bookish) than I told me that 27 is the tipping point; if you’re not exercising by then, the drawbacks will become apparent. I was a few years from 27 at that time, so I figured I was still safe -- and then the lymphoma came along, and I had a really good excuse to keep not-exercising. (For a while there, crossing the street was enough to get my heart rate up.) But that’s over and life is calming down, and hey, look, I’m 27! Yesterday I had a doctor’s appointment, and the doctor recommended that I get more regular exercise, and I decided to get up this morning and get started before I had time to think better of the whole idea. And now I’m telling you all about it because I figure I’ll be too ashamed to quit after just one pathetically short jog if my vast readership knows all about it. You are my accountability buddies.
I was “too full” to finish my asparagus at lunch today, but then I came back upstairs and had a chocolate craving, and I ended up buying a bag of peanut M&Ms from the vending machine. That’s the same machine I complained about a while back, the one that was so fickle about taking my money. Since then I have joined the cyberrevolution and started paying for things with my ID card. And I think the vending machine might be trying to repair our relationship, because so far none of my purchases have shown up in my “account activity.” Does the fact that the M&Ms were possibly free make them more excusable? What about the peanuts? Those are nutritious, right? Anyway, I planned to just eat a few, but before I knew it I’d polished off the entire bag. The fact that the bag was labeled “Tear ’n Share Size” just makes me feel more gluttonous: I tore, but I did not share. Who are you to judge me, M&Ms?
I leave you with a brief list of Summer Movie Romantic Pairings I Find Distasteful:
Anne Hathaway and Steve Carrell
(reason: he's old enough to be her father)
Sarah Jessica Parker and Chris Noth
(reason: they're both old enough to know better)
And don’t miss today’s featured submission on PassiveAggressiveNotes.com, which made me laugh out loud – and reminded me of Personal Days, Ed’s terrific novel, which I am still reading. (This week I’ve spent a lot of time resenting all the other things that kept me from reading more.) SANDRA could be related to The Sprout, don’t you think?