Thursday, July 31, 2008

my favorite blogger

At first blush, I thought "All Trees--No Forest" sounded like a horribly cynical title. Does it represent someone who is slogged down in the day-to-day doldrums and there is no big picture?

On second glance, I hoped that maybe it was just a disclaimer. Like the friend who once made me a mixed-tape, maybe the title warns that this compilation is a haphazard collection of what sounds good, but there is no deeper meaning or hidden message to be gleaned from the work as a whole.

Turns out, I was wrong. It's a jab against nondiscretization in computer science. That was my next guess, I swear.

Whether you care about the beauty of discrete objects or not, check this out.

Tuesday, July 29, 2008


Over the last few weeks, I've started running again. Not every day, and not very fast, but I'm doing it.

My minimum is 3 miles. Last Saturday I kissed my husband goodbye and said I'd try to be back by the time the current cartoon was over. I sorely underestimated. I have a bad habit of getting curious while I run: I wonder where this road goes? How long would it take me to detour around that lake? As I ran through yet another over-planned community (I live in one, too, so I accept some responsibility), I was feeling pretty good until it occurred to me that I had to consider the run back. At 43 minutes, I finally made the turn onto the road that I knew would bring me home. In my mind, west and southwest twisted together, and I believed that I was two-thirds of the way through a 5-6 mile loop. There I was, jogging on the side of a highway without shade, knees brushing against chaparral and duping myself into believing that I'd see the next familiar landmark "just around that bend." I figured it would take me about 20 minutes until I was back in my own neighborhood. 3.7 miles later, I spotted the familiar landmark for which I was searching.

It's not as though I'd never been here before. I've driven this way dozens of times--on my way to other towns. On the plus side, the adrenaline of feeling stranded and in slight danger numbed any pain I might have felt in my legs. My better half confessed later that he nearly packed the kids up in the car and started driving around, but of course I didn't tell him which way I was running. Smart. I had neither a housekey nor any form of ID. Maybe I should have used a Sharpie to write my address on my shoes in case I get hit by a car.

When it was all said and done, I ran 8.5 miles. Everyone was in the backyard playing soccer when I finally got home, panting and red-faced. The love of my life kindly offered to hose me down, which was actually pretty wonderful. I'm proud of myself for running so far, but next time I think I'll do it a little differently.