Saturday, February 17, 2007

Yes, I realize that my Ford is not a Mercedes

Last night, a couple of friends and I went for drinks on the Sunset Strip. As we were getting into my car to leave - a 5-year-old Ford ZX2 with 78,000 miles and a healthy number of dings and paint chips - someone called out to me, "Nice car." I looked up to see a group of young guys grinning out of the open windows of a white Mercedes. I gave the guy in the passenger seat a smile and got into my car, unable to think of a good retort.* Also, I had to digest what had just happened: The only-in-status-obsessed-Los-Angeles equivalent of an egging.

This incident brings to mind the last time someone told me "Nice car" in reference to my little ZX2. It was about 2 years ago, in Baltimore. I had driven to a creek to catch crabs on a summer day, and a boy about 12 years old who was out there fishing or something saw the car and said, "Is that your car? Nice car." And he had meant it.

*I later thought of many things I could have said. One of them was, "Like it? I'll let you sit in it if you promise to shut up and just look pretty." But I think I was better off smiling and letting the insult fall flat. It's like when you tell a joke and no one laughs.

Saturday, February 10, 2007

Back on track

Ran 13 miles today after a five-week hiatus from training with my running group. During the run and for hours afterward, I had a sense of exhilaration that I haven't felt since I quit running to rest my knee injury. I've been accused of being "depressy" recently. Now I realize that my mood was probably dragged down by a lack of physical activity. How strange to think that all of my complaints and frustrations - which seemed to me very real at the time - were just the product of a brain hungry for serotonin!

After this morning's long run, Erin and I celebrated with a shopping spree at the running store. I got a lightweight hat to wear during the marathon, a knee support band, and a watch that keeps track of intervals -- all of which purchases made me inordinately happy. Runner's high, I heart you.

My knee remains a bit stiff, but I believe the injury is going to be manageable from here on out.

Days left till marathon = 21

Friday, February 09, 2007

My parents, the animal lovers

My parents have an old friend, Jojo, who is a dog person. He breeds dogs as a hobby and everyone know him to be a dog person, so when someone has a dog they need to get off their hands, they come to him. That's how we got Xiao Hei, our 150-pound Neopolitan mastiff, 10 years ago when he was just a pup.

Last week, Jojo brought my parents a 1 1/2-year-old dog named Nalua to check out. She's a breed that is indigenous to Taiwan. "Formosan dog" is a possible English translation.

Nalua is 30 pounds of lean, wiry muscle. She behaves like a skittish cat, prancing away when you try to touch her. She's extremely aware of everything going on around her, and savvy enough not to try to compete with Xiao Hei for the humans' attention. She's also a bit of a coquette, and can be persuaded to pose for photos:



A bit of background about the parents: My dad is a dog fanatic, and has for years been hoping to get Xiao Hei a playmate. But my mom generally is known to view animals as little poop machines that she has to pick up after. Imagine my dad's surprise when Mom went out and bought a new dog house the very day after Nalua's arrival. Not only that, but she also has nicknamed the dog Lulu.