Kelly to the max!

A bird too far

2011-10-30T14:38:00.000-04:00

That's it. I'm done.

I have to be. I can't keep throwing money and time away like this.

Roasted chicken, you and I are through. THROUGH, d'ya hear me?

...

In college, I took an art appreciation class. I studied; I took notes; I eventually visited the professor during office hours to try to get extra help. And I could not get it. Even though I had A's and B's in the rest of the classes, even though none of the other students in art appreciation seemed to be struggling, I had no idea what was going on. I would walk into class, day after day, and find myself completely unable to see the qualities of unity in Caravaggio's work. Or whatever.

Finally, in the seventh week of the 10-week quarter, I dropped the class. It's the only W on my transcript, and I still believe it's better than the D I was going to get.

The lesson of art appreciation is one that I still struggle with: No matter how hard I try, there are actually one or two things in this life that I cannot accomplish.

...

The story of me and roasted chicken is one of perpetual hope and perpetual failure. I've read stories about how whole chickens are the best per-pound deal in the market, how you can live for months on recipes from a single bird, how even the most rock-stupid culinary dumb-dumb can roast a chicken.

So every now and then, I buy a chicken. I put tasty veggies under it to roast. Sometimes I try brining it, and sometimes I just rub it with salt and pepper. I stick a meat thermometer in and pop it into the oven. When I pull it out, it looks gorgeous!

And then I start carving. And I find bloody spots along the thigh. So I carve it into bits, cursing, and pop the bits back into the oven until those spots go away.

This happens all. The. Time. I've tried flipping the chicken during cooking. I've tried letting it sit out to bring it to room temperature.

So. Yesterday, I brined the chicken for three hours at room temperature. Instead of 165, I set the thermometer to beep at 180. And then when it beeped, I took the thermometer out of the breast and stuck it in the thigh - where it registered 140. Back in the oven with you, vile poultry poultroon!

By the time the thermometer beeped again, it was getting close to time to leave for a party. So I made a little slice in the thigh, satisfied myself that the juices were running clear, and popped the whole Corningware in the fridge, chicken, veggies, and all.

Cut to this morning, when I'm carving the chicken into servings for later. I pull off a wing ... and notice some pink. It worries me a little, but I convince myself that it's normal and move on.

Until I get to the little bits of meat on the back and pop out the oyster. Yeah, that's blood. And even though I am an absolute tightwad when it comes to wasting food, I'm not about to mess around with undercooked chicken. The entire bird, plus the veggies underneath it, have to be thrown away.

Ugh. That's like six pounds of food and $15 down the drain.

So I'm done. No more imagining that if I change my technique, I'll magically get it right. No more wasted hours spent seeking out undercooked chicken spots. That's it.

Although, there is always butterflying ...

2011-09-10T11:42:00.000-04:00

On a Tuesday ten years ago, I woke up early to open at the movie theater where I worked during summers home from college.

I stared at the TV for two hours. Once, I ran outside and called to my dad, "The second tower just fell!" Eventually, I went to work.

It was a slow day at the movies.

---

On a Friday one year ago, my friend Bob called in to work saying that he'd be late because his car broke down on the side of the highway. An hour later, he called back saying he wouldn't be in at all. His wife was in labor.

When it rains, it pours, I guess.

I had already told him, "Tracy can't have this kid on Saturday. The other kids will call him a terror baby!" He took it in stride as only Bob can, suggesting tasteless joke names for his unborn son.

Saturday dawned. Amid a steady stream of "I remember where I was nine years ago today" updates on Twitter and Facebook came a message from my friend: He and his wife were the proud parents of a healthy baby boy.

All joking aside - they named him William.

---

Let's be clear. As the years go by, the date of September 11 will never mean nothing. For so many families and loved ones, it will always mean fear and heartbreak and pain.

For the rest of us, I hope that one day eventually it will mean something similar to December 7 - a date that marks not an end of American innocence, but a beginning of an era of American strength and dedication and ingenuity.

And I imagine that eventually there will be a group of kids in the Cincinnati area who primarily think, "September 11 - yeah, that's my pal Will's birthday! I hope his mom does the cupcakes-frosted-to-look-like-a-big-cake thing again this year!"

That's not such a bad thing, right?

---

On a Sunday this September, I'll head to the suburbs for a birthday party. I'll bring beer and a snack to share, because I know the game will be on. I'll put a Target gift card into a fancy tin, because I don't know what babies need when they turn 1, but I do know that whatever it is, you can probably find it at Target.

I'll see my friends, and I'll hold the sweet, smiling boy who's just learning how to walk and say "ball," and then I'll get tired and say, "Oof, you're too big, Will," and pass him off to someone else.

They say to never forget, but this isn't forgetting. It's just ... allowing other things to happen.

And this is a good thing.

Anchors Aweigh (a Memorial Day story)

2011-05-31T07:46:00.000-04:00

As we sat around the pool waiting for my dad to finish mowing the lawn so we could start dinner, my grandpa started talking about the obstacle courses.

Throughout New York state, the courses were put up in high schools as a way to test the skills of young men entering the armed forces. It was 1942, and the war effort was in full swing. So when a course was installed at his school in Yonkers, he tried it out.

"And I did that course in 22 seconds," Pop-pop said. "When I was done, they looked at the stopwatch and told me, 'No one's ever going to beat that time, Carson.' And no one ever did."

"So were the services all just jumping to have you?" I asked. "Did they all line up - Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines - and you got to take your pick?"

And he told me the story of how he was drafted. "I had a basketball game that night," he said. But the letter said to report to Grand Central Station, so he went to the city and took his physical.

"Then they read off all the names and where you were headed - this one to the Army, this one to the Marines," he said. "But no one called my name." So he left with a group headed over to the Y, and as they were discussing the draft, he asked if anyone thought it was strange that his name hadn't been called. "You'd better go back over there and check," they told him.

When he arrived back at Grand Central Station, he asked the draft officials to check the rolls for his name. No Carson in the Army, no Carson in the Navy, no Carson in the Marines. So they checked the 4-F list, and there he was. "What's wrong with me?" he demanded. "Says here you have a punctured eardrum," they said.

So my grandpa left Grand Central Station with the knowledge that he was sitting World War II out. He even made it back to Yonkers for the last half of his basketball game. "And we won!" he said.

That summer, a few of his friends decided to enlist in the Navy and asked my grandpa if he wanted to go with them. "I said sure, why not?" he said, and nearly 70 years later, I could still hear the smirk in his voice. "I knew I was going to be 4-F."

And that's when Pop-pop learned that the draft board had made a mistake when they said he had a punctured eardrum. In a matter of weeks, he was reporting to a naval base in Maryland.

My grandpa sure had a funny way of joining the Navy, but he served proudly once he was there. Happy Memorial Day to all the men and women who have served this country - no matter how roundabout your path.

i heart hp

2011-05-15T14:25:00.001-04:00

Sunday morning dawned grey, chilly, and drizzly - actually a welcome change from the crazy heat of the previous few days. Top Chef On Tour was at the Hyde Park Farmers' Market, but I was more interested in browsing the market preview and possibly running into Cati, Julie, or Polly.

No pictures from the market because of the rain, but I left with two pots of herbs for my miniature balcony garden ...

... and a half-dozen eggs "from happy chickens."

The Eaton Farm representative who sold me the eggs had to cut a dozen box in half for me. "Those eggs are pretty fresh," he joked as he sawed away at the cardboard with a dull pocketknife, "but that's the freshest-cut carton you'll find!"

On the way home I crossed the street to peek in the windows of the new Cock & Bull pub, set to open next week.

After I snapped that photo, a workman emerged from the open door. "You'll never get a good picture that way! Come on in!"

It is gorgeous inside, guys.

So many taps (Polly says nearly 60)!

Lovely details like pressed-tin ceilings!

A great-looking patio!

And I live three blocks away.

Oh, and the fountain in the square is on, finally!

Good beer, great local food, beautiful spaces ... this is where I live. It's like a fairy tale.

Guess who's back?

2011-05-08T12:39:00.000-04:00

You might think it was me, getting back into the blogging swing of things. But I'm actually thinking of someone else.

A lot has happened since last we typed. I got an oil change. I got transferred into a different department at work. My best friend in the world decided that this year, she would do the half marathon with me - and we made it in under three and a half hours. I turned 30. Mr. W and I moved in together.

That last bit is what we call "burying the lede" in journalism.

So far, cohabitation has been really nice. I like having someone to cook for. He likes having a balcony where he can sit outside and watch chipmunks and deer. (There were deer a couple weeks ago. In Hyde Park. *shrug* Who knows? Don't look a gift deer in the mouth, I suppose.)

But Mr. W is allergic to cats. I mean, super allergic. His arms swell up if he carries a cat owner's box of books-to-sell into the used bookstore where he works. And my cat is not exactly hypoallergenic. If anything, she's hyper-allergenic.

So I had to find a home for Thursday. I advertised on Craigslist, I put the word out on Facebook and Twitter, and I found someone. She was perfect. She had two cats but wanted three. When I told her Thursday still had her claws, instead of the standard "Ugh, really?" I got a "Good - both my cats have their claws, and it's important that they're all equal in that way." When I brought her over and despaired at how she cowered in her carrier and hissed at the other cats, the response was, "Yes, she'll do that for a while."

I left, heartened.

That was six weeks ago. On Sunday, I got a call. "I'm sorry - she's not coping. I think you need to come and pick her up."

Thursday had spent the entire six weeks hiding in the attic, emerging in secret for food and litter-box use - her new owner had only seen her once. Late at night, she could hear her two cats fighting with the newcomer, and every morning, she found a puddle of cat pee on her kitchen floor. (Whether this was Thursday herself or the other cats - unable to access their own litter boxes at night without being jumped by the attic-dweller - we don't know.)

Mr. W, as I've said, is intensely allergic. But he said, "Bring her home. We'll figure it out." (Mr. W is kind of extraordinary sometimes.)

So the next day after work, I went over, prepared for a long evening of coaxing her out of her hiding place. I brought cat toys, tuna, and a book in case I needed to just sit there for a while. I was offered pizza for dinner if I needed it.

I shone my flashlight into the crawl space and called out, "Thursday, it's me." And she came to me immediately, jumped into my lap and started purring. She was my sweet kitty again.

For the moment, she's living in my office, and we're doing everything we can to limit Mr. W's exposure to dander. I have a set of clothes that I put on when I come in to see her. When I leave, I go to the bathroom, change clothes, and wash my arms and face. I bought a pricey grooming brush to keep her from shedding so much.

And it's working, for now. Maybe it'll work forever. Maybe the dander will eventually creep through the rest of the house and cause a reaction in Mr. W, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

For now - guess who's back?

This girl.

Let's see ...

2011-05-07T14:00:00.000-04:00

Hmm, this is a tough one.

The question is: Which part of my 30th birthday weekend was my favorite?

Possible answers are:

Walking in my parents' door on Friday evening expecting to see the quiet bustle of family-dinner prep time, only to find a dozen friends from every era in my life shouting "SURPRISE!"
Seeing that two of those friends are co-workers from my last job - people whom I haven't seen since last July.
Two hours later, party in full swing, looking up and realizing the latest guests to arrive are my aunt and cousin from Indiana, who drove three hours for the party.
Hearing my friends and family's memories of me, from trick-or-treating at age five to giving a gift a few months ago.
Not getting home until Saturday afternoon, five hours before my NEXT party (planned, of course, without prior knowledge of the surprise party).
Racing about frantically with one minute to go before party time. (Not the best, I guess - but it made a good story at the time. "Five minutes ago, my hair was in a towel! What's it doing now? I haven't looked in a mirror yet. Should I comb it or put out the hummus?")
The five people who actually showed up to both parties!
The incredible quantities of beer that arrived with each guest, sending me running downstairs for a cooler and obliging a friend to make a UDF run for ice.
Noting, at about 1 a.m., that the seven people chatting animatedly in the kitchen had never met before tonight.
The friends who said to me, "We knew this would be fun. You know good people." (I do! I know the BEST people!)
The friend who had another engagement until 1 a.m., but wasn't about to let that keep her from celebrating with me! (She dropped in for a few minutes at 1:15.)
The final wave of guests who didn't depart until 3 a.m. (And the VERY last guest, my best friend, who stayed until nearly 4!)
Reading some of the sweetest cards imaginable.
Responding to message after message from well-wishers on Facebook and Twitter.
Knowing, without a doubt, that I have some of the best friends and family members a girl could have.

I can select "all of the above," right?

Me vs. the bird: a story in tweets

2011-01-18T07:48:00.000-05:00

Act I: Prelude

@kellyhudson In my shopping cart tonight: tomatoes and tallboys. Spaghetti for tonight; beer can chicken for the rest of the week.

Act II: Tragedy!

@kellyhudson It is now official: God does not want me to roast chicken.

@kellyhudson Seriously. My beer can chicken tipped over in the oven, filled the kitchen with smoke, and just now suddenly EXPLODED. You win, bird.

@GoMariaGo @kellyhudson exploded? Now I have a new cooking fear.

@kellyhudson @GoMariaGo I heard a loud BANG, and my chicken, which had been sitting atop the stove, was on the ground with a big gash in the back.

@kellyhudson Stupid chicken. http://yfrog.com/h5l7abypytj

Act III: Hilarity

@ejaygee @kellyhudson God does want you to roast chicken, it's Sarah Palin that is sabotaging your efforts. Damn you Sarah Palin

@kellyhudson @ejaygee THAT's why my chicken exploded! Sarah Palin shot it from a helicopter!

@ejaygee @kellyhudson She can see your oven from her house

...

@mikerrr @kellyhudson more evidence to support my controversial theory that God is a chicken.

@kellyhudson @mikerrr God likes to launch Himself from my stove and commit seppukku on my not-so-clean kitchen floor.

@mikerrr @kellyhudson mysterious ways indeed

...

@jenlkessler @kellyhudson I know it's not funny and a huge mess but I def laughed out loud. Chkn 1, Kelly 0.
...

@Megebee @kellyhudson Seriously, show that damn chicken who's boss!

@kellyhudson @Megebee Clearly, the chicken is the boss.

@Megebee @kellyhudson The chicken got the best of you tonight. But you'll come back stronger.

@kellyhudson @Megebee It won the beer can battle. I'll win the lean protein war! I shall fight on the beaches, I shall fight on the landing grounds ...

...

@kategaible @kellyhudson that steel reserve was the death of the chicken!!! That beer can knock even my dad down:)

...

@tcallinan @kellyhudson Positive attitude: The beer looks tasty, if a bit warm. TC

@kellyhudson @tcallinan I drank half the can as part of my prep. Not bad!

@tcallinan @kellyhudson As always, Kelly I love your 'tude. Now if you would have eaten 1/2 the chicken before the beer-butt challenge I would worry.

Act IV: Advice

@davisdanae @kellyhudson I have a stand for beer can chicken if you want to use it

...

@adorkandhispork @kellyhudson ive been trying whole chix since oct or so. I like my old way (cut up, sear, finish) much better.its pc vs mac (control v ease)

@kellyhudson

@adorkandhispork The only luck I've ever had with a whole chicken is in the slow cooker.

@adorkandhispork @kellyhudson I did THIS a few times and lliked it. http://www.adorkandhispork.com/?p=281 (sorry, the recipe is from a mag)

...

@GoMariaGo @kellyhudson whole chickens are evil.

Act V: Bedtime

@kellyhudson Twitter makes me feel better about exploding a chicken. Thanks, guys.

You are an obsession, you're my obsession

2011-01-08T14:08:00.001-05:00

It's been a while since I've posted a music video review up in here, but this one TOTALLY merits the revival of the feature.

Notes:

OK, first of all, the song itself is genius. ("I will have you. I will have you. I will find a way, and I will have you." Poetry!)
The very first shot is of a giant jester shoe tapping out the beat. Conceptual! (0:00)
The hair, the shoes, the keyboard, the outfits, the lighting - everything is SO VERY '80s that it makes my hair crimp a little just watching it. (0:05)
Antony and Cleopatra are just hanging out with their backup band at their friend's pool overlooking LA. Which makes total sense, but what's with the pirate? (0:56)
OMG ELECTRIC HEXAGONAL DRUM KIT MANNED BY DUDE WITH TWO-TONE MULLET my hair just spontaneously permed itself. (1:17)
Hang on, now two-tone mullet guy is the guitarist, and he's providing the soundtrack to some sort of epileptic seizure? (1:30)
Even though the video was obviously thrown together in a day, using a friend with a pool's home and whatever costumes the band could scrape up, it kinda looks like male singer guy isn't in on the joke. (various, but especially 1:35)
Now a spaceman is having the seizure, and he's being watched over by a man with plants growing out of his hat. ... Cool. (2:03)
The jester is clearly the hero of the piece - he has the courage to drum on Cleopatra's head, and he's rewarded by having his foot appear in the opening scene. (2:16)
Silver Venetian blind shades at night FTW! (2:52)
Someone thought the shot of the pirate raising his eyebrow was GOLD, Jerry! (3:34)
And then, all the crazy characters disappear, leaving their costumes behind. Maybe ... they transcended matter and evaporated into pure states of awesome? (This is definitely what happened.) (3:52)

Sorry, all other '80s music videos. The bar has been set, and I doubt you can pole-vault that well, seeing as how you don't have arms.

Elements of a Hudson/Carson/Drilling/Forrest/Clark Christmas

2010-12-28T23:37:00.000-05:00

Board games
Card games
Football games (watching, not playing)
Boy-girl harmonica-kazoo battle
Gift exchange presents including "Anti Monkey Butt Powder" and "Omega-3 Krill Capsules"
Entire extended family forced to fend for selves when homeowners flee to Florida on the 27th
Entire extended family piling into homeowners' bed, then shower, to take pictures to send to traveling homeowners
The garage being turned into a makeshift refrigerator when turkey AND ham AND pot roast AND ribs AND all the sides for each become a little unwieldy
Bottles and bottles of wine
Glasses and glasses of beer
Jugs and jugs of OJ (for screwdrivers, natch)
Entire family begging anyone who leaves (like, say, a girl who's got to be at work the next day) to come back as soon as she possibly can

All in all, not a bad way to spend a weekend.

Season's greetings

2010-12-25T08:00:00.002-05:00

Again the Ghost sped on, above the black and heaving sea — on, on — until, being far away, as he told Scrooge, from any shore, they lighted on a ship. They stood beside the helmsman at the wheel, the look-out in the bow, the officers who had the watch; dark, ghostly figures in their several stations; but every man among them hummed a Christmas tune, or had a Christmas thought, or spoke below his breath to his companion of some bygone Christmas Day, with homeward hopes belonging to it. And every man on board, waking or sleeping, good or bad, had had a kinder word for another on that day than on any day in the year; and had shared to some extent in its festivities; and had remembered those he cared for at a distance, and had known that they delighted to remember him.

...

Much they saw, and far they went, and many homes they visited, but always with a happy end. The Spirit stood beside sick beds, and they were cheerful; on foreign lands, and they were close at home; by struggling men, and they were patient in their greater hope; by poverty, and it was rich. In almshouse, hospital, and jail, in misery’s every refuge, where vain man in his little brief authority had not made fast the door, and barred the Spirit out, he left his blessing, and taught Scrooge his precepts.

Hee Haw and Merry Christmas

2010-12-01T23:10:00.004-05:00

A couple weeks ago, the Al & Al show came to visit my parents' house to screen It's a Wonderful Life, No. 11 on the AFI's top 100 list. I happen to know a little about the movie, so I volunteered to host.

Cati came bearing cheese. Bob and Tracy arrived with cocktail knowledge. Alex and Allison brought some excellent speechifying on future cool Watch This events. And I provided the DVD and the liquor. (It's a Wonderful Life is a far drinkier movie than one might suspect.) Good times were had!

And now the Watch This post about the evening is out, so you should go read that. You should also try to attend one of their screenings before the year is up!

We endorse, you decide

2010-11-06T13:27:00.002-04:00

So, there are two stories this week that are kind of enthralling to me from a journalistic perspective.

This week, we learned that MSNBC host Keith Olbermann has been suspended for breaking his employer's ethics code.

The line for what constitutes unbiased journalism is hazy and always moving. Each news organization decides for itself where that line is - as Olbermann's colleague Rachel Maddow points out in this clip.

The other story is, of course, about Cook's Source, the cooking magazine whose entire business model appears to be based on the assumption that "the entire Web is public domain." This would be hilarious if it weren't so infuriating. NPR's Monkey See blog has a pretty good roundup of the situation.

People believe ridiculous things about content on the Internet - everything from "if I change some of the words, that makes it my own original work" to "if you didn't want it stolen, you shouldn't have put it somewhere where I could copy it and remove all the Creative Commons invisitext." (For an example, let's turn to Cleolinda, who writes funny things on the Internet and is sometimes paid to do so - and therefore runs up against this issue ALL THE BLOODY TIME.)

The truth is that "copyright flows from the pen," which means that your original content is yours from the moment you create it, whether it's on the Internet or not. Isn't that comforting? (And it's so much more cut-and-dried than whether journalists can contribute to political campaigns!)

Fall fun

2010-10-17T12:06:00.005-04:00

Peripatetic

2010-10-09T16:30:00.000-04:00

per-i-pa-te-tic (adj) : of, relating to, or given to walking

So last weekend I did the Reggae Run, and having dealt with the crazy traffic surrounding that event, I decided to just walk to the starting line. Cati came with me.

We forgot that, while we live close to Ault Park, once you actually enter the park you have another mile or so to walk in order to reach the pavilion where the race festivities were taking place. Good thing Cati suggested getting an early start!

The Reggae Run is a 5K that goes downhill for the first half and uphill for the second half. Another way of saying that is, "The Reggae Run is a 5K where I run for the first half and walk for the second half."

Everyone in this photo is like, "I hear that."

And everyone in this photo is all, "Exactly."

But the real reason you do the Reggae Run is for the after-party! Free food and copious drink tickets!

Notice the number of people with hoods up, huddling over their beers and grilled corn? That's because it was chilly and drizzling the entire evening. Too bad - usually the first weekend in October is still pretty warm before sunset.

At one point, my friend Danae came up holding a tiny cup of Yagoot. I concluded that she was crazy. She came to the same conclusion after about five minutes of clutching a freezing dessert in her bare hands.

At another point, Cati said, "You know, we could just go somewhere warm and I'll buy everyone drinks."

But hey - it was an adventure, right? And Cati and I even got Danae to drive us home!

Sunday dawned, which meant it was time for Cati's and my weekly walk to the farmer's market. But this week was special - it was the Hyde Park Art Show, which meant we also spent some time wandering the booths and browsing ceramics and photography.

It also meant that the square, and several roads around it, was closed to car traffic. So Cati and I got to see some crazed drivers acting in a way you just wouldn't think necessary for a Sunday morning. The chill in the air persisted, but we were pretty glad we chose to walk anyway, because it would not be fun to try to navigate that mess.

Crepes for breakfast! I love how they have a little squeegee for the batter.

I walked home with my haul of produce and a reminder that once I get my current poster stash properly framed, I should consider new artists.

That evening, I headed over to Chele and Stacie's place for their weekly walk around their neigborhood and through the park across the street.

(No pics of this, so instead please enjoy this photo of Stacie and Chele pretending to fall off a bridge in Canada.)

(Corrie came too, but I don't have any photos of her falling off a bridge in Canada.)

What a fab weekend of friends and walking!

Jane Lynch should win all the Emmys y/y?

2010-10-04T20:41:00.001-04:00

Happy Breast Cancer Awareness Month!

2010-10-04T11:03:00.001-04:00

Are you aware yet?

What Wyld Stallyns can teach us

2010-09-25T18:03:00.001-04:00

This week I tweeted:

"I basically just want everything to be very awesome all the time. Who's with me?"

(Why, yes - I did steal that philosophy from a Television Without Pity recap of a Gossip Girl episode! What's it to you?)

And hey, it turns out that a lot of people want things to be very awesome! So ... how do we do that?

I have an idea.

Be excellent to each other.
Be kind. Be honest. Don't assume a hidden agenda, and don't adopt one. Help people - heck, not even people who need it, but just people who could use it.

Party on, dudes.
Be happy. Be grateful. Be joyful. Have fun. Don't be afraid.

If we all woke up each morning vowing to be just a little more excellent to each other than we were before, and to party on just a little more than the day before?

It would be most outstanding.

Thursday

2010-09-23T08:00:00.000-04:00

An oldie but a goodie - from the week I brought her home.

Reversal of expectations

2010-09-21T23:10:00.003-04:00

I expected Mr. W to love dinner and despise the show.

Dinner was at Maribelle's, where my friend Cati and I had previously had a fabulous, transcendent dinner. (You can read all about it here.)

The show was Janelle Monae. (A few weeks previously, he had heard some songs from her newest album and, upon hearing one of them segue into "Clair De Lune," remarked, "Finally - something I can enjoy.") She was the opening act for Of Montreal, so a crowd of hipsters was guaranteed. Mr. W does not suffer crowds or hipsters gladly.

But he had said he would go. So off we went.

And at Maribelle's, the service was slow and the sandwiches fell apart.

And after an hour of crazy-amazing Janelle Monae tunes, Mr. W pronounced the show awesome.

I guess you never know.

Thursday

2010-09-16T08:00:00.000-04:00

I know I hate how tough it is to paint in the tub

2010-09-14T13:30:00.001-04:00

Thursday

2010-09-09T08:00:00.000-04:00

Spotted around town

2010-09-04T17:10:00.000-04:00

Good thing I take my camera everywhere, because I was able to catch this at a red light last week:

So, what local organization distributes this sticker? (Context.)

Spotted at the gas station

2010-09-04T13:11:00.001-04:00

And here I was going to prepay afterward.

Thursday

2010-09-02T08:00:00.000-04:00

Long weekend

2010-08-29T22:46:00.002-04:00

My hypothesis is that the perceived length of a weekend is directly proportional to the number of activities accomplished during said weekend.

In English: Busy weekends feel longer.

So this weekend, I:

had a beer with co-workers
attended a bonfire with friends
watched TV with Mr. W
drove to Columbus
got a pedicure with my mother
ate lunch at a nice little pub
attended a wedding
drove to pick up my brother-in-law for the reception
shook what my mama gave me at said reception
ate a leisurely breakfast on our host's patio
drove my mother back to Cincinnati
met friends at Head First
adjourned to Dickmann's for wings and cornhole
drove to Eastgate for True Blood fun

Next weekend is three days (Labor Day, doncha know)! I hope it feels as long as this one did.

Thursday

2010-08-26T08:00:00.000-04:00

Twitter, in slightly more than 140 characters

2010-08-23T09:00:00.001-04:00

My sister posted to Twitter a while ago:

Six months later, she has more than 11 followers!

... She has 19 followers.

So I figured I'd post a few basic things I've learned about how to use Twitter effectively if you are a person and not a company or brand.

(Note that when I say "use Twitter effectively," I don't mean "get lots of followers." If you want followers, go on a reality TV show. These tips are for using Twitter to build relationships with your followers, no matter how small their numbers. The best tweeters I know think of Twitter as "that place where all my friends hang out," not "that place where I have 1,300 followers.")

- Have something to say. Twitter has a rep along the lines of, "Why would I want to know when someone I've barely met is eating a sandwich?" Well, yeah, you wouldn't - unless what that person has to say about the sandwich is really interesting. This "what I'm eating" tweet of mine got some responses (and Facebook likes), so it's probably a passable example:

That's a better spin than "ice cream for lunch ;-)" - right? Here are a few examples of Twitter superstars making everyday stuff interesting:

When you sign into Twitter, you're asked, "What's happening?" When you ask yourself this question, make sure you add: "... and why should anyone else care?" I love Twitter because it's forced me to distill and clarify my writing into a very small space, while still making it interesting. It's a fun challenge for a writer, but it's one that anyone can rise to.

- Start with people you know. Family, friends, your favorite co-workers: These are the people who will constitute your follower base. Follow them, and make a note of whom they seem to be tweeting with. If those people seem cool, follow them as well. Think of Twitter as a tool for expanding your circle of friends.

- Follow locals (or those who share your interests). I doubt Cincinnati is unique in this respect - we have a huge base of awesome, engaged Twitter users devoted to exploring and promoting the city. If you want to learn more about cool restaurants or fun things to do in your town, follow your local food bloggers (@winemedineme) or social butterflies (@mojojacob). If you're tweeting about your city as well, this group will embrace you. (If, like my sister, you live in Columbus, I recommend my friend @ShelleyMann, editor of the Columbus Alive arts weekly.)

You can do something similar with shared interests or hobbies - but please do not be one of those people who does a daily search for "Paramore" and starts following everyone who shows up. If you're involved in an online community or a fandom, by all means, reach out to its members on Twitter so you can connect in a new way.

And here is the big one, the real key to Twitter - I dropped out and nearly deleted my account before I figured this one out.

- Use the reply button. Without the engagement of replies, Twitter is just a bunch of narcissistic shouting into the ether. If someone's tweet makes you think, reply and tell them! (You can also retweet them, but use the retweet button sparingly lest your followers think you have nothing original to say.)

I told my sister this once, and she said she felt like it would be rude or stalker-ish to reply to someone she didn't know. Heck no! I judge my success with Twitter not by how many followers I have, but by how many replies and retweets I get each day. All the people I've mentioned in this post so far have Twitter feeds that are just crammed full of replies, and many power users (myself included) have an unofficial policy to only follow back people who reply to them.

Reply. Reply early and often. Replies beget other replies. Replies turn into conversation, which then turn into virtual and even in-person friendships.

That's me with Katy and Laura, two Twitter pals whom I now occasionally hang out with in real life. And I'm on the outskirts of local Twitter society; I know other people who get together with their tweeps just about every day.

Hope this helps you understand Twitter a little more! Oh, and one more tip:

- You can follow celebrities if you want, but don't expect them to reply to you. There are only a few celebs on Twitter who actually reply to their fans, and they tend to be of a cultish, geeky sort. We're talking, say, @ZacharyLevi or @wilw-level geeky, and they will @ or RT you only if you are intensely funny or pithy. If you sign up for Twitter because you want a direct line to @OGOchoCinco, you will be severely disappointed.

Thursday

2010-08-19T09:00:00.001-04:00

My kitty has never really photographed well. She always looks crabby.

But a few weeks ago, I must have caught her in a good mood or some good light or something, because I got some total glamour shots. In celebration of this fact (and in recognition of how much I like 5chw4r7z's "Sid Saturdays"), I'm reinstating the Thursday Open Thread so I can show her off.

(Can you reinstate a feature that you've only posted one installment of? These are the questions that keep me up at night.)

Ride with the Devil

2010-08-14T13:42:00.003-04:00

The best part of going to see Scott Pilgrim Vs. the World last night actually occurred before the movie.

We were sitting in the darkened theater watching the previews, and a trailer came on for some sort of horror-y-suspense-ish-thriller-type flick. There were some people who got stuck in an elevator, and for some reason they couldn't get out and rescuers couldn't get in, and strange stuff was starting to happen to them and they didn't know who was behind it ...

And suddenly, I realized what movie trailer we were watching. And I knew exactly what was about to happen - not in the trailer, but out here in the theater.

Not a moment too soon. A split second later, the screen flashed the words: "From the mind of M. Night Shyamalan." And - exactly the way it's been happening in movie theaters all across the country - the entire audience groaned in unison, realized everyone else in the theater was groaning, and started laughing. At the end of the trailer, a few people even applauded (I like to think they were saluting the audience's good taste).

It was awesome. We as an audience would go on to watch Scott Pilgrim and formulate opinions of it ranging from "rocks" to "sucks," from "perfectly envisioned love letter to the source material" to "ugh, why did they change the final battle so much?"

But for 45 seconds or so, we were all on the same side. We were all fighting the Devil.

BFF: a comedy in two acts

2010-08-11T21:16:00.001-04:00

ACT I.

By the time Stacie, Chele and I pile into the car to hit Chipotle before True Blood comes on, I've made at least three cracks about Stacie and tried to put her in a headlock while she ran around the living room. ("Get off me!" she yelled. "It's like you're a weak midget trying to bring me down!")

As the car backs down the driveway, I say, "You know, I was thinking this week about how I try to be nice to everyone -"

"Whatever - you're not nice to me!" Stacie retorts.

"That's what I'm saying," I continue. "I try to be nice to everyone, but there are only a select few people I'm mean to. That's how you know I like you."

Amazingly, no one compares me to a 12-year-old boy.

----

ACT II.

True Blood has become a Sunday ritual at the McKissick home, and besides Chele, Stacie, and myself, three people show up this week for our regularly scheduled dose of camp and gore: Corrie, Alicia, and Cati. Cati brings with her a bag of produce she picked up for me at the farmer's market (including a cantaloupe that I've dubbed "the magic melon." It is seriously the listening-to-the-Shins-in-a-doctor's-office-waiting-room of fruit), and I exclaim over its delights before the show.

After the show and a few comments on how our old friends Anna Paquin's breasts are back after a short hiatus, we rise to leave. I ready my farmer's market bag for departure.

We're chatting just inside the door when Stacie looks at me and says, "Did you forget your farmer's market bag?"

I did! I race to the kitchen for it, and when I return, Corrie is exclaiming, "How did you know that, Stacie?"

"Corrie," she replies, "Kelly and I have been friends since junior high. I just know these things."

Board breaking, addendum

2010-08-08T18:09:00.004-04:00

After the board breaking was over, National Training wrapped and I reported back to the office to help with our big warehouse sale. My partner was a warehouse staffer named Dawn, and as we boxed up products and printed receipts, she told me about an idea she had.

It was brilliant! I ran back to Cubicle Alley to tell someone before the idea evaporated. 15 minutes later, I returned to tell Dawn I had checked with some people and everyone thought it was a great idea.

Dawn beamed. "No one's ever told me I had a good idea before!"

So much better than breaking a board.

Sometimes, the board breaks you

2010-08-07T22:15:00.017-04:00

(Alternate title: "How a Board Brought Me Down a Peg.")

-----

"I don't know what to write on my board!"

In half an hour, my first National Training would be over. Our annual three-day training event always closes out with "Breaking Through," a session where you actually break an inch-thick board as a metaphor for what's holding you back in life. On the side that's facing you, you write a fear, an obstacle, or something else negative that you want to get past. On the other side, you write your goal.

I knew it was coming, and all week the question "What should I write on my board?" had flitted through the back of my mind. Now it was time. I had listened to everything speaker Brian Biro* had said - but I still hadn't decided.

(*Small tangent: Can I just say how impressive a speaker Biro is? Every now and then, you'll see a speaker who starts out the session by having everyone stand up, stretch, and shake themselves out a little, "so you're not falling asleep when I give you the speech." Biro, on the other hand, has constructed an entire presentation around physical exercises to build the energy in the room - his thesis is basically that energy breeds success, in business and in life, and it's one I completely subscribe to. At one point, he asked people to think of someone they know who always seems filled with energy; I hoped a few of my friends at work were thinking of me.)

What could I write on that board? Kari, who had broken a one last year and was taking us through the session, grabbed a small plank off a chair and wrote "FAILURE" on it in big letters. "This is what I wrote last year," she said.

I wasn't at all afraid of failure. In my core, I knew I could do anything I set my mind to. I ran a half marathon, dammit! Still, it was something to write, at least. I grabbed a promising-looking board and wrote "FAILURE" on one side.

The other side, where you write your goals, was easier. I wrote "LEADERSHIP" on that side, and when Biro asked us to make a dedication, I added "for Mr. W,"* because he's always encouraged me to recognize that I have what it takes in that arena.

(*Almost immediately, I decided that the phrasing of my board was awkward and that I should think of some other way of writing it, prompting Ellen to remark that maybe I should put "second-guessing myself" as an obstacle. That's not second-guessing - that's editing!)

So, I was all ready to break my board - but the presentation kept going. I started to get anxious. Earlier, I had told Bob I would work the room with him for video of the presentation - him with the camera, me with the microphone. How could I be standing here, ready to selfishly break a board for no reason other than I thought it would be cool, when I had made a promise to help someone else out?

... I picked up my board again, crossed out "FAILURE," and wrote, "DISAPPOINTING OTHERS." Now that's a fear I can relate to.

Finally, it was time to start breaking. I posed in the stance I had learned, with my dominant hand back in my armpit and my other hand in front of me in a "stop" position. Sweet! I was going to be a ninja! I had no fear of failure. I knew I was going to break that board!

Until I thrust my hand forward - and felt it meet solid, unyielding wood.

Shit. All of a sudden, I had plenty of fear of failure.

I dropped my arms and looked at Kari, who was holding my board. "It didn't break," I said. "It was supposed to break for me on the first try."

Kari said, "That's OK! Let's try again!"

No, you don't understand, I wanted to say. It was supposed to break for me. I succeed at everything I put my mind to. Everything. And that means breaking this board on the first try.

But I didn't. Instead, I reset my position and tried again.

And again I failed.

My hand was stinging. I knew that participants who failed five times were sent up to the stage to have Biro help them break their boards personally, and now I was 40 percent of the way there. "Don't make me go up on stage!" I begged Kari.

"You don't have to go on stage," she assured me. I readied myself for the third try. Nearby, Jessica and Ellen chanted, "Kel-ly! Kel-ly! Kel-ly!" I was grateful, but would have preferred a quiet room where I could have attacked the board on my own.

Possibly with a chainsaw. You know, if one happened to be available.

I failed a third time. "Maybe we need to take a break," Kari said. I was trembling. By now, I was supposed to be halfway across the room, interviewing women who had just broken through their fears and felt the exhilaration of sudden, extraordinary success. Instead, here I was, failing over and over in a way I didn't consider possible before this. (And it was taking way too long - I had a job to do, dammit!)

On the fourth try - finally, miraculously - the board gave way. Relief and gratitude flooded through me, and I grabbed Kari and hugged her for dear life. Then I cheered on Jessica and Ellen as they broke their boards (no, neither of them on the first try, either), picked up my microphone, and went - still shaking slightly - to do my job.

As far as I could tell, my fourth hit wasn't much different from my previous three. I have no idea why it should have caused the board to break that time and not the others. I can only assume that Kari picked up a tip last year - something about how to hold the board or maybe a way to push it towards me at the last second so that our combined force causes it to break - that made my attempt a teensy bit more effective. I don't know what she did, but I thanked her for being there for me about 12 times throughout the evening.

I don't think anyone else in the room reacted the way I did to the board breaking. For all the other women, the crucial moment was that of finally breaking the board, of suddenly knowing they could do it. I remembered only the three failures that came beforehand. I remembered the certainty trickling out of me and being replaced by cold dread. I even wondered if there was something wrong with my hardwiring - was I supposed to doubt myself at first and then triumph? (Thankfully, Mr. W told me he would have felt the same way. He theorized that it comes of being editors: "We expect perfection." If that's weird, at least he and I are weird together.)

But while board breaking was not at all the experience for me that it is for most people, it was still valuable. I learned that sometimes, I will not live up to my own expectations. When that happens, it's good to remember that I have friends who will be on my side - who might even help me out during uncertain times in ways I don't always notice. I want to be more constantly grateful for those people in my life.

Not exactly a breakthrough, but it's something.

Based on my previous post ...

2010-07-21T22:53:00.002-04:00

I write like
Cory Doctorow

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

But based on this post ...

I write like
Stephen King

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

And for this post ...

I write like
David Foster Wallace

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

Got it.

Black Wednesday: One year later

2010-07-08T21:54:00.000-04:00

A year ago today, my co-workers and I were told to gather in our old offices on the 14th floor. We had been moved to the 19th floor to be with the rest of the newsroom, but no one else had moved into that space, so the floor was still littered with copies of old newspapers and office supplies deemed not important enough to come with us to our new digs. In the darkened office, we sat on the abandoned desks and learned that in an hour, we would be called to a boardroom where we would be officially laid off.

That was a weird day. Everyone had known that mass layoffs were coming, and it was likely that CiN Weekly would be a target. Between our content partnership with national events website Metromix and the Enquirer's new focus on moms and baby boomers, having a dedicated local staff to cover events of interest to young professionals just wasn't cost-effective for the Enquirer. In our weekly staff meeting, we had exchanged contact info, "just in case." I parked my car in the building garage instead of in my normal lot that day, "just in case." We had been told to start making copies of any important files, "just in case."

All "just in case" aside, I really had only the faintest thought of losing my job that day. Just two months before, I had won an award for outstanding service in the line of duty - the Enquirer copy desk's version of the Medal of Honor. I figured there would be a place for me.

(Mr. W told me later that companies don't work that way; that when there's a reduction in force, they have to eliminate positions, not people.)

Losing your job, especially losing your job in 2009, is a scary, scary thing. But there's a kind of exhilaration that comes with the news: Hey, four-day weekend!

So we cleaned out our desks (I still kick myself for not saving all my email; some of my first conversations with Mr. W were in there), and we made plans to meet at Arthur's once we'd dropped off our pencil cups and novelty mouse pads at home. And, since we were all young, hip, and social-media-savvy (which is why we'd all been hired in the first place), we started updating our Twitter and Facebook friends on what was happening, using the hashtag #BlackWednesday (shoutout to Jeff!). "Stop by and buy us a drink!" I tweeted.

And you know what? People came to Arthur's! Old co-workers came! Twitter friends came! Fox 19 even came and interviewed a few of us. (Now I'm kicking myself for not writing down what someone on the crew said when I told him the other big layoff news - Peter Bronson was gone. I recall it being pithy.)

And those who couldn't come sent drinks - via PayPal and over the phone. At one point, our old boss called the bar from Reno to see how we were getting along. I think we mostly shouted about how amazing everyone was being. Eventually, Arthur's manager even sent out a free round.

All night, those of us with smartphones read Facebook updates and #BlackWednesday tweets to the group, adoring the firestorm over our departure. I had 50 new Twitter followers when I got home that night. By the time layoffs concluded the following day, Gannett employees all over the country were using #BlackWednesday and #BlackThursday.

So that was pretty cool.

Now it's a year later, and I have a shiny new job at a company that's doing well, even in a still-struggling economy. My ex-co-workers and I met at Arthur's again, and they're all doing well too. But we had a fantastic time reliving a day that should have been terrible, but - thanks to social media - turned into something wonderful.

World Cup Fever

2010-06-11T11:21:00.000-04:00

Economic stimulus, final: Local giving

2010-06-05T16:32:00.003-04:00

When we last left this project, I had $86 left to spend locally. I had supported neighborhood shops, bought a lovely art print, and joined a CSA - and there kind of wasn't anything more I really wanted to do with this money. Plus I was starting to feel like maybe I should be doing more with this money than just buying stuff for myself.

So I rounded the remainder up to $100 and gave $50 each to two local nonprofits that employ people I know. I figure that way, I'm directly helping my friends stay in a job. The nonprofits are:

The United Way of Greater Cincinnati: Perhaps you've heard of them. And if you're a Cincinnati blogger or tweeter, I know you've heard of Kate the Great, who works for UWGC.

The Patty Brisben Foundation for Women's Sexual Health: This one is probably a lot less familiar to most people. A few years ago, my employer's founder started a foundation to fund research into things like how women's sexuality changes as they go through menopause, how cancer treatment affects intimacy, ways of treating vulvo-vaginal pain disorders, etc. It's an area of health research that doesn't get a ton of attention - to the point where even doctors frequently don't know much about how to talk to their patients about such things. I was happy to make this donation and help out my friend Jessica, who directs the foundation.

And that's all she wrote, kids! Here's hoping next year's tax return is even bigger, so I can do it all again!

Intermission

2010-05-23T07:34:00.000-04:00

Let's take a quick break from the "Stuff I Bought with my Tax Refund" series and go see a movie!

Alex and Allison are watching all of the AFI's top 100 films over the course of a year, and tomorrow (May 24) is No. 60, Raiders of the Lost Ark. They've arranged to screen this film in the lovely 20th Century Theatre(er)* - and you're all invited! Yes, you. Even you in the back.

(*Dear 20th Century ... auditorium: Your URL is "theatre," but your website header is "Theater." Please make up your mind.)

Details are here, but the basics are: 7 p.m. Free screening. Food and drink (including cash bar) available for purchase.

Can't you hear that theme song already? Dah dah-DAH-dah, Indiana Jones!

Economic stimulus, week three: Local food

2010-05-01T10:48:00.007-04:00

This series is fast becoming a cataloging not just of $500 spent close to home, but of purchases I've wanted to make - have fully intended to make but haven't had the funds to justify making - for some time. I've wanted to visit Oakley Wines since it opened. I've wanted a Charley Harper print since the first time I saw one.

So it shouldn't surprise you to read that for the last three years, I've thought about trying a CSA. I love the idea of having a variety of fresh, in-season veggies all selected for me each week, of being delivered new produce and having to figure out what to do with it.

But I wanted to dip my toe in. I needed a half share, I needed a nearby pickup point, and I needed it to be not terribly expensive. So I was pretty happy to find (via LocalHarvest) Bergefurd's Farm Market in Wilmington. They deliver their CSA shares all over Southwest Ohio, including to the nearby Hyde Park Farmer's Market. They offer half shares. And they allow you to subscribe for just 10 weeks instead of 20. (From the photos on Bergefurd's Facebook fan page, which include a 20-week half-share subscriber's haul last year, it looks like the bag doesn't start to really fill up until the second half of the season - but at this point, I'm not sure how well I'll be able to use up just the 10-week share.)

That's what the share looks like by week 10.

A 10-week half share at Bergefurd is $150; after making sure there were still shares available, I sent in my check and added $12.50 for a half-dozen egg share. (Why do I have a feeling that I'm going to be SO SICK of frittatas by August?)

Summary:

Bergefurd Farms: $162.50

Total for weeks 1-3: $413.37. Just $86 to go!

Economic stimulus, week two: Local art

2010-04-21T15:22:00.008-04:00

For years, I've wanted a print by Charley Harper.

I mean, come on!

Beautiful!

Gorgeous!

Wish you were here!

Harper's a very cool part of Cincinnati's culture. So my sudden tax windfall gave me the perfect excuse to pick up a print by him.

All these images are from Fabulous Frames & Art, by the way - a local custom framing shop that specializes in all sorts of Harper material: prints, posters, and licensed stuff like notecards. They can do amazing things with mats; when I visited, the displays were, like, a print of a bird eating some seeds, but more seeds were printed on the mat, so it looked like the print extended beyond its borders.

But I'm a simple girl with simple tastes, so a simple custom-framed double-mat lithograph with nonglare museum glass was good enough for me.

It's called "A Good World," and it now hangs proudly above my DVDs.

(BONUS BLOG EASTER EGG! How many of my DVD box sets can you recognize?)

This is what's called an unlimited-series lithograph, meaning they still have the plates (etchings? Blocks? What's the right word for lithography?) used to print it, so it can be reprinted at any time. Limited-edition stuff is rarer and more expensive; the pieces I saw at Fab Frames were $500-$900, which is a little beyond my budget at this time. Maybe I'll invest in one of those someday. But this print and my Harry and the Potters glow-in-the-dark gig poster are a pretty good start to my fine art collection.

(You think I'm joking, but I love that poster.)

(I tried to take a picture of it hanging on my wall, but there was way too much glare. Maybe I should have it custom-framed with museum glass ...)

Summary:

Fabulous Frames & Art: $173.60

Total for Weeks 1-2: $250.87

Economic stimulus, week one: Local shops

2010-04-15T23:32:00.005-04:00

The week after the IRS accepted my tax return, I had a four-day weekend, which I spent wandering around my neighborhood to see what I could see.

(One of the things I saw was a singing fish based on this commercial, but I refrained from buying it. Worst decision ever? Only time will tell.)

I was excited to be able to stop at Oakley Wines, which is a fairly recent addition to the Oakley shopping scene (and one whose limited hours make it tough for me to stop by after work). The shop is owned by Joe and Lois Santangelo, who were setting up for their usual Friday tasting when I dropped in. (It's 5:30 to 7:30 p.m., and I believe $5 gets you six tastes, but I could be wrong about that.) They were both super-nice, very excited to talk about wine, and happy to inform me that their shop is now open on Saturdays from 1 to 5.

From now on, if you invite me to a party and I bring a bottle of wine, it will probably be from this shop. Oakley Wines specializes in wines you might not have heard of, and they make a point of selling no bottle over $20. I picked up a Malbec, a Pinot Grigio, and a Sauvignon Blanc for just over $40.

The next day, I headed over to Hyde Park Square on a more specific mission: to purchase many fancy cheeses from Hyde Park Gourmet Food & Wine. This shop sells crazy crackers, fun little jams and jellies, tiny desserts - basically everything you think of when you think "gourmet." (They also sell sandwiches, which I didn't realize before I stopped in.) Naturally, they have an extensive cheese case, and with the help of a nice saleslady, I selected four: a Camembert, a brie made with goat cheese, something sharp that involved white wine, and five types of Cheddar compressed into a single stripey block. Yum!

Summary:

Oakley Wines: $40.44

Hyde Park Gourmet: $36.83

Total for Week 1: $77.27

In which I take seriously my charge to stimulate the local economy

2010-04-15T11:00:00.002-04:00

Happy tax day, my fellow Americans! My tax refund was much bigger than normal this year - I would say by about $500! Boo-yah!

As a patriotic American with no real debt other than my car payment, I've decided to take this extra $500* and use it the American way: to participate in the age-old tradition of conspicuous consumption!

*The amount of my normal refund will go into savings; I'm not completely reckless.

But here's the deal: All $500 is going to be spent in local businesses. No video games from Amazon; no new TV from Wal-Mart, no pretty, pretty dresses from Target (hmm, maybe I should rethink this). I want to feel like my money is packing as big a punch as possible, and I think the best way to do that is to go local.

Let's see how far this $500 goes.

UPDATE. Here's my completed series.

All the drama, none of the commercials

2010-02-20T20:14:00.006-05:00

It must be fate that I set up my new TiVo the same week as the start of the 2010 Winter Olympics. The Olympics seem tailor-made to put the TiVo through its paces: I set a Season Pass for it and can now pause before the big figure-skating final, fast-forward through the compulsory ice-dancing routine, and watch Stephen Colbert be interviewed in full Mountie regalia without having to stay up until 1 a.m.

Because I can control what parts of the coverage I'm watching, I find myself absolutely riveted by the Olympics this year. I get all teary-eyed at the footage of the men's super G winner's dad cheering and jumping up and down. I adore how finishers in cross-country skiing events cross the finish line and then just fall over. I'm enthralled by how Evan Lysacek somehow avoids getting tangled up in his own limbs, each of which are approximately 17 feet long. I thrill to biathlon.

(By the by: Biathlon? Is going to be the next "curling" in the sense of a wacky, off-the-beaten-path sport that everyone loves to talk about. I know it. NPR knows it. Captain Awesome knows it. So study up.)

Watch out, Bob Costas - there's a new Olympic expert in town. (Just don't ask me to watch the entire second heat of men's skeleton in real time. I'll fast-forward to the medal round, thanks.)

[Images come from the Olympics' gallery.]

A TiVo post: IR code for RCA STB766C

2010-02-15T21:05:00.003-05:00

(This is not so much a blog post as a public service announcement, because I spent several hours looking for this information , and now that I have the solution, I would like to put it in a place where a search engine can get at it.)

Perhaps, dear stranger who happened upon this page by searching for rca stb766c ir codes, you are trying to set up your new TiVo to work with a digital converter box you purchased at Target. It has RCA printed on the bottom of it, so you choose that when the TiVo asks you what brand your converter box is. And then you go through the infrared setup so that the TiVo can change the channel when it wants to start recording something - and NOTHING HAPPENS. And you're about ready to tear your hair out.

Here is what you do: You will notice on the TiVo page that lists which converters are compatible with their service, they list a box with a model number very similar to your RCA STB7766C: the Venturer STB7766G. You know what? It turns out that that's close enough!

So go back through your channel changing setup and say your box is a Venturer instead of an RCA. I can't guarantee that it'll work for you, but it worked for me. I hope this helps you.

P.S. Just in case you were wondering, stranger who did a search for rca stb766c ir codes, I am not a tech head. Everything I know about this issue I learned from Googling various configurations of my problem. If this does not solve your problem, I PROMISE YOU, I will be unable to help. I apologize in advance, and I suggest you try browsing the help forums at tivocommunity.com.

Just in case you were wondering ...

2010-01-03T23:33:00.000-05:00

Created by Oatmeal

My New Year's resolutions (more or less)

2010-01-01T13:18:00.000-05:00

Less clutter. Less piling of junk into corners. Less stuff in my life.

More thank-you notes. (More thanks in general, in fact.)

More veggies.

I would say a lot more (less sugar, more moving around instead of sitting at the computer all day, more blog posts), but let's try to keep it simple for now.

How about you?

Time for an adventure!

2009-11-30T22:12:00.001-05:00

An adventure into an operating system I've avoided for 10 years, but am now trying because Mac = expensive (you might not have known that; it is kind of a secret).

Also: Pink!

What a Midwestern potluck looks like

2009-11-25T13:31:00.001-05:00

You really can never have too many Crock-Pots.

Nerrrrrrrrd!

2009-11-20T12:53:00.001-05:00

Your result for The Nerd? Geek? or Dork? Test...

Pure Nerd

78 % Nerd, 48% Geek, 26% Dork

For The Record:

A Nerd is someone who is passionate about learning/being smart/academia.

A Geek is someone who is passionate about some particular area or subject, often an obscure or difficult one.

A Dork is someone who has difficulty with common social expectations/interactions.

You scored better than half in Nerd, earning you the title of: Pure Nerd.

The times, they are a-changing. It used to be that being exceptionally smart led to being unpopular, which would ultimately lead to picking up all of the traits and tendences associated with the "dork." No-longer. Being smart isn't as socially crippling as it once was, and even more so as you get older: eventually being a Pure Nerd will likely be replaced with the following label: Purely Successful.

Congratulations!

Also, you might want to check out some of my other tests if you're interested in any of the following:

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Professional Wrestling

Love & Sexuality

America/Politics

Thanks Again! -- THE NERD? GEEK? OR DORK? TEST

Take The Nerd? Geek? or Dork? Test at OkCupid

Unboxing: Random movie stuff

2009-11-14T10:21:00.009-05:00

Last night I took my friend Sue to a fundraising gala for my employer's charitable foundation. I've never been to a gala before, so that was fun! There was a pasta bar! Free drinks!

And of course, there were several ways for those in attendance to give more money to the foundation. Like the silent auction, which had packages ranging from "Madagascar: Escape 2 Africa Beanie Babies" to "diamond necklace." I bid on (of course I bid on) a package called "Harry Potter and the Film Memorabilia," a Gryffindor scarf and Hogwarts messenger bag filled with unseen random stuff from other movies. (It was donated by a co-worker who used to work for film promotion company The Owens Group.)

I'm kind of surprised I won with my paltry bid, because the bag on its own is pretty nice.

And hey, now I have a scarf to go with the Gryffindor hat Jeff bought me!

But what crazy movie tie-in promotional items are hiding inside? Let's find out!

(I love this kind of thing.)

We've got hats! Hats from LOTR, Spider-Man 2, and ... what's The Express?

A DVD of Resident Evil: Apocalypse. I have mixed feelings on this one. On the one hand, free DVDs are great! On the other hand, zombies are very scary.

A travel coffee mug from The Proposal. (There was coffee in that movie for all of about 5 minutes, but I guess when you're looking for a tie-in promotional product for your movie, a speedboat or a horrible wedding dress doesn't work so well.) I will totally use this - if the lid doesn't leak. (The lid's going to leak; I can tell. The lid always leaks.)

A flashlight for 30 Days of Night. Clever girl.

A tiny speaker set for your iPod, for August Rush. I hear that movie is terrible! But the speakers are kind of neat.

Fred Claus mug. Wait, what?

Wow, that's terrifying.

Hahahaha - the novelization of the movie Beowulf! This is a thing that exists! (It's written in the present tense, which is something you don't see that often in novels. Also: HAHAHAHAHA!)

And finally, two T-shirts - one from We Are Marshall, and one from ...

AWESOME! The Incredibles! My favorite Pixar movie is now my favorite casual T-shirt!

Well, that was a fun little grab bag! I'm very happy I was able to get it by donating a a bit of money to charity. Maybe (if you're lucky) I'll do some sort of blog contest to give away a few of the items. (Hmm, what sort of contest has a Fred Claus mug as its prize?)

Pub crawlin'

2009-11-06T22:33:00.001-05:00

At Animations.

Nein on 9!

2009-11-03T08:56:00.001-05:00

Vote the K-Hud ticket

2009-11-02T21:09:00.000-05:00

So, we've got an election coming up. To celebrate the first-ever Election Day in which I've not been professionally discouraged from expressing political viewpoints, I had been planning on doing an official "Kelly to the Max!" endorsement list.

And then it occurred to me that I know basically nothing about the candidates. I'll look them up after I post this, and they'll all say they're in favor of ducklings and against tsunamis, and I'll vote for whichever identical-platitude-spouting candidate is a member of the political party with which I identify.

(Unless! Keep this in mind, future political candidates, because I know that my vote is very important to you. I will NOT vote for you if you do not have a website. If you've made no effort whatsoever in this arena, I assume that you'll make no effort whatsoever to govern effectively. We are living in the future, people; being able to buy a domain name and have it rerouted to your Wordpress blog ought to be an entry-level requirement for civic authority of any kind.)

Also, I will vote for the one candidate I've met socially. (I make important decisions this way. America!) And I will not be voting for the candidate who high-sticked C. Trent Rosencrans in between the legs during a broomball game.

So without further ado, I present: The Kelly to the Max! Issue-Only Endorsement List!

Ohio Issue 1: Yes.

"It's time for someone to have the courage to stand up and say: 'I'm against those things that everybody hates!' " One of those things is not taking care of veterans when they come home from fighting.

Ohio Issue 2: No.

This is a weird amendment - the Ohio Farm Association is for it, but the adorable dairy down the road is against it? (You can pick up their milk at Whole Foods, by the way.) The governor is for it, but the Humane Society is against it? So I was leaning toward no anyway (I like the governor all right, but I also like the Humane Society), but what convinced me is actually someone on Twitter asking, "Why exactly do we need a constitutional amendment for this thing?" Good point. I'm suspicious of any state constitutional amendment that feels like something that could be hammered out in the Legislature. (Unless it gives money to veterans, apparently.)

Ohio Issue 3: No.

Ugh, this puts me in such odd company - it seems like the most vocal opponents of Issue 3 are the sort of fun-hating weirdos that banned dancing in Footloose. (I saw a "No on 3" commercial last night; it looked like a Jack Chick tract.)

I don't think that casinos will increase the baseline level of sin in the state or whatever, but I do think that casinos are overestimated as an economic magic bullet, that the jobs created by new casinos are mainly low-wage and low-prospect, and that casinos tend to drain more money out of the local economy than they pump into it.

I also think about my grandpa, a regular visitor to the Grand Victoria casino in Rising Sun, Indiana, and I wonder ... would this downtown casino have free parking? Because my grandpa sure isn't going to drive downtown and wander around looking for a parking space when the Grand Victoria has a huge parking lot and a shuttle that'll take him right to the door.

Issues 4-7: Yes.

Yes to MR/DD services. Yes to one of the top museums in the country. Yes to the public library!

Issue 8: No.

Issue 8 should be renamed "Issue 9, but with water."

Issue 9: No.

No.

No.

No.

No.

No.

No.

No.

And I'm gonna quote this one at great length, because it sums up my thoughts nicely:

Whatever you think of a streetcar system in Cincinnati, Issue #9 is a mind-boggingly bad piece of public policy. The small, craft brewers we all want to start brewing here (not to mention the ones we already have) need a strong social and economic base from which to draw customers. What major corporation really wants to be in a city that has to throw it out for a vote if the local zoo wants to extend its train to the new parking lot? Heck, what small business wants to put up with that?

Remember the phrase “That’s no way to run a railroad?” Issue #9 is definitely no way to run anything. Ballot measures are an awful way to make long-term public policy, unless you happen to think California (land of the 10,000 ballot initiatives) is a place you want to emulate. Elections are expensive. They take a long time to organize. Once underway, facts have little to do with the outcome.

Amen to that! I know I hate elections! Wait, why am I even writing this?

And that's all she wrote, folks! When you go to the polls tomorrow, vote the same way I do on everything, or else we won't be friends anymore!

Fall drive

2009-11-01T21:20:00.001-05:00

Happy November!

The message and the messenger

2009-10-22T13:49:00.001-04:00

I've been thinking about those "I Love Cincinnati" bumper stickers lately. You've probably seen them around, and you might have seen blog posts about them as well.

The stickers started popping up out of nowhere earlier this year, and of course I wanted one, because I also love Cincinnati! I really do! And whenever I saw a sticker on someone's car, I felt like that person and I were in a secret club, a sort of fraternity of Cincinnati lovers. "Yeah," I would think, "that guy and I know what's up!"

But a few months ago, I learned that the stickers come from Crossroads Community Church, and suddenly that was all I could see about them.

It's not just that the messenger became strongly associated with the message; it's that the messenger traded places with the message. So when I see an "I Love Cincinnati" bumper sticker, I no longer think, "That's nice - that person really loves this community! So do I! Hugs for everyone!" Instead, I think, "Ah, that's from Crossroads."

And so it turns out that the secret club I thought I was in is something else entirely.

And I have absolutely nothing against Crossroads (did you know they offer nice coffee and free yoga classes to everyone, including non-members? That is pretty great of them!), but I no longer want a sticker, because I feel like the sticker would broadcast an affiliation between myself and Crossroads that doesn't actually exist. Like, maybe I would be in the grocery store parking lot, loading up my weekly purchase of 800 cans of diced tomatoes, and some stranger would walk by and say, "Hey, Crossroads!" And then I would have to explain myself.

It's a little bit like when someone compliments me on the T-shirt I got at a Sufjan Stevens show, which says, "Come On Feel the Illinoise!" Whenever that happens, I have to figure out whether they're responding to the message (silly puns on state names) or the messenger (ethereal indie-folksters).

Is there anything else like that out there?

My coming out story (kind of)

2009-10-11T13:28:00.003-04:00

Years ago, back when I was just knee-high to a Bachelor of Arts degree, I came home from college for the weekend. On that Sunday morning, I went to church, and after the service a boy I knew from youth group came up to me. He asked me if I remembered a debate we'd had on a retreat in high school - something about whether gay people can have faith.

I didn't remember that conversation, but I knew what I must have said: something along the lines of, "OF COURSE you can be gay and still have your faith, because you're still a person, and it's just a part of who you are - not a sin, not a turning away from God." Apparently, this boy had taken the opposite view.

So I don't remember the original conversation, but I remember that day in the church, when this boy, who had always been sullen and awkward and now looked happy and confident, like he finally belonged in the world, smiled at me and said, "Well, you were right." And he came out to me, there in the church aisle.

Today is National Coming Out Day, and not being gay doesn't mean you can't "come out" as an ally. You might not find out until later how much it means to someone.

Lies my Greek mythology book told me

2009-10-07T22:04:00.000-04:00

I have this idea that at some point I'll start blogging some of the excellent sci-fi novels I've been reading for my summer (OK, now well into fall) self-assignment, but first, I want to talk about a book I recently took time out to reread. It's a book I adored as a child.

(Have you ever done that? It's kind of amazing, isn't it - how much books can change between your decades-old remembrance and your adult rereading. I can't wait until one of these tiny late-Gen Y-ers goes back and reads the Harry Potter series a decade later.)

Anyway, the book I just finished reading is D'Aualaires' Book of Greek Myths, and it basically forms the foundation for everything I know about Greek mythology. It contains a huge variety of myths, all gorgeously illustrated.

(I remember trying to sketch the illustrations from the book myself and producing a fair imitation of Artemis. The book, incidentally, was passed to me and my sister by our mother; we later came across an old sketch pad of hers that included an excellent rendition of Helen of Troy.)

It is hard to overstate how much this lovely book shaped my young mind. Years ago, the original book was flung across a room by my sister, which tore it apart; recently, hearing how much I had loved it, she bought me another copy - so I got to read it again.

And since it's a book intended for children, there are parts that are really, really funny now. The story of the Minotaur is probably my favorite example:

But Queen Pasiphaë was so taken by the beauty of the bull that she persuaded the king to let it live. She admired the bull so much that she ordered Daedalus to construct a hollow wooden cow, so she could hide inside it and enjoy the beauty of the bull at close range.

And the illustration is of Pasiphaë sitting inside the wooden cow, peeking over the top of it and just looking at the nice bull. Hello, nice bull! How are you? And then, it's so weird how Poseidon is all mad and makes her miraculously pregnant with the half-man-half-bull monster somehow!

Also, this hand-waving of Zeus and his many affairs is pretty funny:

Zeus loved Hera dearly, but he was also fond of rocky Greece. He often sneaked down to earth in disguise to marry mortal girls. The more wives he had, the more children he would have, and all the better for Greece! All his children would inherit some of his greatness and become great heroes and rulers.

AWESOME. Fellas, definitely try this line (do not try this line) the next time your lady catches you stepping out on her. "I love you, sweetie, I do - but if we ever want this nation to prosper, it simply must be populated with my offspring!"

But the book is still a fantastic read. Here are a few more observations from this time around:

- My favorite story is still that of Melampus, the hero who could talk to animals. He gets his power in repayment for a good deed, and unlike so many Greek heroes, he never experiences that whole hubris/fall from grace thing. (He totally overcharges a king for saving his daughters from madness, though. Wikipedia suggests the women were dangerous, but the D'Aualaires describe them as more embarrassing than anything else; all they do in the book is run around mooing and shouting, "We are cows! We are cows!" So I guess we could chalk that up to Melampus taking advantage of the king's pride.)

- My other favorite story as a kid, the tale of Selene and Endymion, is just creepy now. If it happened today, Endymion would write a tell-all book, Roofied by the Moon.

- People remember Heracles' immense strength, but I had forgotten how clever he is. Over the course of his 12 labors, he had to figure out how to kill any number of strange beasts that revived in unusual ways, he figured out how to use water power to do one of his tasks for him, he understood the implications of capturing one of Artemis' sacred hinds and never loses patience while pursuing the creature, and he tricks a Titan. He basically never screws up - all the trouble in his life comes from jealous interlopers.

- The story of Jason and the Argonauts is like the Real World/Road Rules All-Star Reunion Challenge of Greek myths. Everyone is there. Sure, Heracles is there! Two winged children of the wind, why not? Oh, and Orpheus is there too! ... I know I said he was torn apart by Menaeds, but that was later on!

Anyway, if you would like a beautifully illustrated, squeaky-clean retelling of a ton of Greek myths, this is your book. I'm so happy I have a copy again - thank you, Katie!

(All images come from this site.)

The new gig

2009-10-04T16:26:00.000-04:00

Well, that wasn't so bad.

If you follow me on Facebook or Twitter, you probably know that after two months of unemployment, I got a new job! I've been there for three weeks now. My title is either Creative Writer or Copywriter - but the gist is, I'm the new Girl Who Writes Things What Needs Writin'.

My new employer is a local company called Pure Romance. If you're not from Cincinnati, you might not know much about Pure Romance - they're in the business of home parties, like Pampered Chef or Sil-whatsit, but they sell a line of products that some people would describe as "relationship aids." (Actually, some people would prefer not to talk about them at all, thank you very much.) Massage oils, lubricants, bedroom accessories - "those" parties, as a consultant might tell you. (It's a popular phrase among consultants, and it's easy to see why: It allows discussion of the subject without any potentially disquieting words, and it feels conspiratorial. You want to be invited to one of "those" parties.)

The response to my new employer has pretty much fallen into two categories: "Oh? ... Oh. Whoa." or "That is awesome!" As you can imagine, I fall into the second camp. I can't wait to use it as a small-talk point at a party.

So far, it's interesting work. Each Pure Romance consultant basically runs her own franchise - everyone buys the standard product line from corporate, but they can choose to offer additional discounts or incentives for hosting a party. There are also optional marketing materials, like postcards and brochures, that can be purchased. So that means that I might write a postcard intended to be sent to Pure Romance customers, and then I could turn around and write a business article about how the postcard could be beneficial to a consultant's business.

(So the work is interesting, but probably not as interesting as some people imagine.)

The new office building:

The new desk:

"Usually reserved and task-oriented ..."

2009-10-04T10:21:00.000-04:00

Kelly Hudson
View my personality report

Hey, it's another one of those personality tests! This one is the DISC Assessment, and it seems like it gave me an accurate result: C/I, Cautious/Inspiring.

As a C/I, I like facts, details, and interacting with others. I also enjoy "witty humor," and my value to a team is as a "deep thinker and able communicator."

Anyone else ever taken this test?

Brought to you by the letter "Arrr"

2009-09-19T11:06:00.009-04:00

Avast, mateys! Today be International Talk Like a Pirate Day! And in honor of this auspicious occasion, I'll be dredgin' up some o' me favorite pirate jokes from Davy Jones' locker! Read on, ye scurvy dogs!

Mateys, had ye heard about the new pirate corn?

Aye, I hear ye can buy it for a buck an ear.

Why couldn't the wee pirate go see the movie?

Because it were rated Arrr.

And why were it rated Arrr?

Because of all the booty.

What be a pirate's favorite socks?

His arrr-gyles.

And what be his favorite subjects in school?

Arrr-chitecture and arrr-t.

If a pirate be wishin' to impress the lasses with his finery, what be his designer o' choice?

Arrr-mani.

And finally, what be a pirate's favorite fast-food restaurant?

Arrr-by's?

Uh, no, dude, Long John Silver's. Jeez, that one was a gimme!

What be your favorite pirate joke, mateys? Post it in the comments or face walkin' the plank!

I can be anything

2009-08-29T11:36:00.002-04:00

I was going to title this post "Heaven Just Got a Little More Reading Rainbow," because I read too much Videogum, but then I decided people might think LeVar Burton had died or something. (And then I went to Videogum and discovered they posted this story under the title "Heaven Just Got a Little More Reading Rainbow," and a few commenters were like, "Whew, I thought LeVar Burton died!" So, I win? I guess?)

Of course, what actually happened was that yesterday marked the last new episode of Reading Rainbow. It's been on the air for 26 years, which means that my sister, who is just two years younger than me, has never lived in a world without Reading Rainbow. (It also means that Burton hosted the show all throughout his Star Trek: The Next Generation days - do you think he ever showed up at the RR studio all out of breath, still wearing his visor and his Starfleet uniform? Because that would be awesome.)

Anyway, even though I don't think I ever actually read any of the books recommended on the show, I have fond memories of it because it was all about great it is to read. Reading really is the best, you guys! Don't tell me you never wanted to turn into a cartoon astronaut like the girl in the opening credits:

(My guess is that while almost nobody remembers a specific episode of the show, everybody remembers the opening credits. Maybe they could just play that clip for half an hour a day.)

I was probably not Reading Rainbow's target audience, because I always knew that reading was amazing. So maybe I'm overstating things when I say that yesterday, we lost a powerful tool in the quest to teach children to use their imaginations. (I hope I'm overstating things, anyway.)

But still, it's nice to keep this in mind: We can go anywhere. We can be anything.

Cincinnati: More exciting than NYC

2009-08-09T11:21:00.008-04:00

The city skyline sparkles below the top deck at the Mount Adams Pavilion, where the Milford High School class of 1999 is having its 10-year reunion. The lovely sight causes a sudden wave of emotion to wash over me. (Maybe the $2 Miller Lites had something to do with it, too.)

I turn to my old classmate Janet, who moved away for college and never came back. "You know - it's exciting living here."

"Yeah?" she says. Janet lives in New Jersey, probably no more than a half-hour train ride from one of the most incredible cities in the world. I'm not sure I can really convey to her the type of excitement Cincinnati offers. Especially not with those Miller Lites stunting my vocabulary. But I try.

"It's like ... it's like we're constantly on the verge of something really great. It's amazing seeing it happen." Janet smiles, and I decide that's enough boosterism for one night.

But seriously, guys. Think of how much this city has grown and changed in the past five or six years. When I started working downtown on an evening shift in 2003, the streets and Fountain Square were empty. I often got dinner from the vending machine just to avoid the ghost-town feel outside. The Main Street bar district was still the primary reason to visit Over-the-Rhine.

(And the other interns and I met every Tuesday at Inn The Wood for 50-cent draft night. And then Inn The Wood was razed. So there is that.)

And I know that a certain local issue is leading to a lot of talk right now (and not just in Cincinnati) about how resistant to change we still are - and those people have a point. But from my (admittedly very limited) perspective, we've come a long way in a shockingly short time.

What will this city look like when MHS '99 has its 20th reunion? I don't know, but finding out is going to be really exciting.

"Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince" as reviewed by otters

2009-07-16T08:44:00.009-04:00

"OMG it's starting it's starting HARRY POTTER EEEEEEEEE!!!"

"Wait, Tom Felton can act now?"

"Oh, Harry and Ginny - so romantic!"
"Really? I've always preferred Harry with that weird blonde. You know, Draco."

"Look, Mom! I'm an Inferius!"

"DUMBLEDORE! NOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

*yawn* "Man, it's late. I'm getting too old for this."

Best Harry Potter shirt yet?

2009-07-14T22:26:00.002-04:00

Tiny ice cream!

2009-07-12T21:27:00.001-04:00

How adorable is this?

Laid off!

2009-07-10T02:10:00.005-04:00

Hey, all. If you follow my updates on Twitter or Facebook, you already know the news. Yesterday was my last day at CiN Weekly.

(It was actually everybody's last day at CiN Weekly. It was even CiN Weekly's last day at CiN Weekly. The publication will continue under the name Metromix, a change we knew about for at least a month. We just thought we'd be around to work on it.)

This was my first job out of college, and I spent six great years working with some wonderful people. I'm going to miss seeing them every day. (Amber and I joked that we'd have to get webcams and videoconference every day so we could still talk to each other.)

It's funny. I have never in my life truly had to look for a real, adult job. I got the CiN Weekly gig at the end of an internship at the Enquirer, which I got by just bringing a bunch of clips in to the news editor. (I got the impression people who actually wanted to be copy editors were few and far between.) I'm lucky to have a huge support network of family and friends who know how this dance goes. My inbox has had a steady stream of good thoughts and even a few job postings.

So buck up, guys! I'm gonna be just fine! Especially if people keep buying me drinks, like they did last night.

On second thought, nobody buy me any more drinks. I was hurting this morning.

More later, including (possibly) how social media turned our pity party at Arthur's into what was really an incredible night.

(Photo by Gina.)

2009: The Summer of Sci-Fi

2009-06-24T22:52:00.004-04:00

John Hodgman, look what you started.

Hodgman gave a very nice speech at the White House Correspondents' Dinner ...

... and it made me want to increase my nerd cred. Which I am sorely lacking.

The thing is, I identify with nerds, but I have trouble with the major shibboleths. I don't know much about computers. I like science but didn't go into a scientific field, and while I did OK in math, it was still my worst subject. I never read comic books as a kid, and now I fear I will never catch up on the mythology. While I claim to be a Star Trek fan, I've seen precisely one TOS episode. (In my family, we watched the movies and TNG - was TOS even in syndication in the '90s? OK, it almost certainly was.)

And I've never read many of the classics of science fiction. When some nerd references Asimov or Arthur C. Clarke, I have no choice but to respond with a blank stare.

God, I'm such a poser. (Am I actually a geek instead of a nerd? I hear varying accounts of what the terms mean ...)

But no more! Because Hodgman's speech reminded me I need to read Dune, and because I'm in the middle of Neuromancer, I decided to declare 2009 the Summer of Sci-Fi! Over the next 10 weeks, I will catch up on the books I should have read in ninth grade when all the other kids were befriending seniors so they'd use their fake IDs to buy them Zima (note to my parents: this is not what all the other kids were doing).

(What was I reading back then? I want to say ... Stephen King? Cynthia Heimel? Jane Austen, maybe, but I think that was more of a college thing for me.)

Anyway, I started with this list I found of top sci-fi novels, thinking I could round out the top 10, and then I asked Mr. W (a consummate nerd) for suggestions and substitutions based on what we could find in his prodigous bookshelves. (Dude needs a card catalog and a little ladder on wheels like now.)

Here's the list:

Neuromancer by William Gibson (in progress)
Dune by Frank Herbert
Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert A. Heinlen
Islands in the Net by Bruce Sterling
The Gods Themselves by Isaac Asimov
Childhood's End by Arthur C. Clarke
Codgerspace by Alan Dean Foster (this is not a book or author I've ever heard of, so I don't know whether it's a classic, but Mr. W said it's good, and it has a robot/dinosaur/toaster on the cover, so I'm game)

Dear me, when am I going to find the time to read all those books by September? Perhaps someone would like to pay me? Like, enough so that blogging about reading novels can be my full-time job? Thanks - I appreciate it!

Conan is such a copycat

2009-06-12T17:51:00.004-04:00

We all know that bacon alcohol is a bad idea, because we all saw my post about it. And yet, here's Conan O'Brien, making Andy Richter try bacon vodka like he didn't read about it here first:

My guess is that the vodka didn't need bacon flavoring to taste terrible, by the way; I imagine the company is using a gimmicky flavor to mask a subpar liquor, because that is TOTALLY how I would do it if I were a manufacturer of trendy vodka.

I dunno - should I buy a bottle of a guaranteed-sippable vodka and try the bacon experiment again, just to show Andy Richter how it's done? (The answer to this question, of course, is no. As much fun as it is to show up Andy Richter, it's not worth the very real risk of turning a palatable vodka into an unpalatable vodka.)

When I say that I'm sipping white wine at the tennis club ...

2009-05-17T15:12:00.000-04:00

... it's not as classy as it sounds.

Clearing old pics off my phone: Water Horse edition

2009-05-08T10:59:00.001-04:00

Because that's what interactive movie standees are there for.

Good news, everyone!

2009-05-05T12:58:00.002-04:00

I completed my second half marathon, which I figure is basically the same as running a full marathon! (So I took a little break in the middle.)

Also, I beat my time from last year by two whole minutes! Hooray!

Afterward, my knees were so, so sore - I went to a movie that evening and could barely walk up the stairs. (Josh and Chele, who had also run the half that morning, didn't seem to have any trouble, but it's possible that neither of them is as big a baby as me.) My non-running friends were worried and provided me with Advil (thanks, Corrie!), but I woke up the next morning with nothing more than the mild soreness you get when you step up your workout program.

Recap and photos coming, eventually.

Ready to rock

2009-05-02T14:50:00.001-04:00

Buy More ... Subway

2009-04-26T00:00:00.002-04:00

So there's this show I like. I like it so much that I make a point of watching it on Hulu after I have already seen the broadcast episode, just so I can feel like I'm casting my vote for the show in some way. I like it so much that for the first time in my life, I sat down and wrote a letter to a network bigwig asking for another season. (If I had been watching Arrested Development when it was in trouble, I think I would have done it then - but alas, by the time I discovered it, it was too late.)

It's very confusing to me that this show isn't wildly successful, because I feel like everywhere I turn, I meet a new fan. I'm pretty sure I know more fans of Chuck than of Lost, for example. But there you have it - the show's "on the bubble," as they say, and so letters are being sent, petitions are circulating, all the usual stuff.

If you want to know more about all the usual stuff, you can read about it here. But if you would like to participate in a "save the show" campaign that doesn't require you to dig through your stationery drawer for a stamp, there is something very simple you can do:

Tomorrow (Monday, April 27) is the season finale of Chuck. Sometime during the day, head to your local Subway (a major advertiser) and purchase a $5 footlong. If your local Subway provides comment cards, leave a comment saying you bought your sandwich as a thank-you to Subway for its sponsorship of Chuck.

The idea, of course, is that TV shows need advertisers to survive, and if advertisers can actually see sales based on their sponsorship, the show will have more reason to continue. I'm still not sure if the logic is sound (Subway's franchise model means the comments might not ever come to the attention of corporate, for one thing), but hey, it's only $5.

I'm going to bug you about this on Twitter for the next two days, by the way. Because I am an enormous dork.

COPOMP: Pun-tastic edition

2009-04-23T11:45:00.001-04:00

In Red Bank, New Jersey

COPOMP: Cheddar edition

2009-04-23T11:40:00.001-04:00

The deli in my office building sells cheese in chocolate-bar-sized chunks. Neat!

Clearing old pics off my phone: Awesome license plate edition

2009-04-23T11:32:00.001-04:00

Fun fact: T9Word types "slave" before "plate."

Training, Weeks 8-10: Springtime!

2009-04-22T16:40:00.001-04:00

I love spring. I especially love running in spring! Here are a few of the things I get to see on my runs around the neighborhood:

Squirrels! Usually running around on telephone wires.
Flowers! Oh, man, this category keeps growing and growing. First there were hints of crocus, and then the daffodils sprouted, and the grass kept getting greener, and then one day I was jogging through an actual mini shower of cherry blossom petals as though I were an anime character or something. This week it's been mostly pansies, tulips, hydrangeas, and flowering bushes - I make sure to breathe deeply when I pass a lilac or viburnum. Tulips are still my favorite, though.
Birds! Mostly robins, but plenty of other birds as well, from sparrows to wrens to (last week, in Mount Lookout Square) a yellow chickadee. (EDIT. Mr. W informs me that this last one was more likely a goldfinch.)
Lots of nice dogs! Often they are being walked by their owners, who make sure they heel as I puff past. (Despite the stereotype of dogs chasing joggers, I've encountered just one dog who's tried to follow me. In Milford. On two separate occasions. And he wasn't a particularly scary dog.) The dogs pent up in fenced-in yards tend to yap at passersby, but they're probably just excited by any change to the scenery. I tell them hello - and also "woof," if no other humans are about.
Other runners! Especially on Observatory and Madison, which seem to be popular running streets. I say hello to them all and try to smile, although I worry that in the later miles of my routes it comes off as a grimace.

Training, Week Seven Again: Missing the Mini

2009-04-14T23:02:00.000-04:00

Week Seven began with my newfound "don't stop" goal; it was supposed to end with the Heart Mini-Marathon. But two days before the race, my friend Chele texted me: "Just so you know, I'm not running the Mini on Sunday if it's raining."

(Explanation for posterity: After a week or two of 60-degree weather, Sunday's forecast called for temps in the 40s with drizzle, sleet and maybe even snow.)

Chele had already registered for the Mini, but the idea of facing that freezing rain on a surprisingly hilly 9.3-mile course was too much for her. I had not registered, but the rain wasn't about to stop me. Yet suddenly, the prospect of running the scary hills in the terrible weather without a friend to meet me at the finish was looming, and that was too much to bear.

So, not wanting to wait until two hours before the race to know if I was running it, I made my decision: I skipped the Mini.

And guess what? Chele wound up running - even though it rained. The other friend who planned to run it with her convinced her to do it. (Guess I should have tried that. I could have gotten 9.3 miles and a sweet T-shirt instead of the "stay in bed until 1" award.)

Training, Week Seven: Don't Stop (with special guest star Katie!)

2009-04-09T17:00:00.000-04:00

(This is the proper music to listen to when reading this post, by the by. Maybe don't watch the video, though; I'd like for you to like Brazilian Girls when you're done.)

Week Six was ending, and I headed out to Milford to do my six-mile "long run" (actual marathoners are laughing right now) with my dad and my sister, who was in town for the weekend.

Katie (my sister, not the Katie from the bacon bourbon experiment) is also training for the half Pig, but she runs faster and is using a more rigorous training program. (It actually asks her to run 14 miles two weeks before the 13.1-mile race, which seems anticlimactic to me.) She eats six-mile runs for breakfast. (Or brunch, seeing as how it was Sunday.) So she was saying that we should try to run it straight through and make a 10-minute pace and all this other stuff, and my dad and I were all, whoa girl - we run slow, and we stop and walk when we feel like it, which is usually once a mile or so.

Still, off we went. I was trying to keep pace with Katie, who I think was slowing down a bit for our benefit, so we still hadn't stopped to walk after a mile and a half. At that point, my dad - whose knee has been giving him a lot of trouble lately - tapped out and walked back home, and Katie and I kept going.

And going.

And going.

(And then we stopped because I had to use the Porta-Potty conveniently located at the three-mile mark, but then we got going again.)

And going.

And an hour or so later, I had run the whole six miles with only that bathroom break. (I was such a jerk to Katie when she said I shouldn't lie down after.)

Thanks to my lovely sister's inspiration that day, I've realized that I haven't really been pushing myself. So my new goal on any given run is to go as long as I can without stopping to walk. So far, it's going pretty well.

GO WOMEN

2009-04-09T08:26:00.002-04:00

Man, Nike just knows how to make a video that makes you want to drop everything and go run RIGHT NOW:

Nikeplus.com seems to be down right now, so I can't tell if there's a way to enter this challenge if, like me, you don't have a Nike+ system. But if there is, I'm doing it! Good job, video!

Training, Weeks 4-6: Pick Up the Pace

2009-04-08T20:58:00.002-04:00

Wow, it has been forever since I've posted about my marathon training! Here's the beginning of my catch-up posts:

Saturday of Week 4 was the always-lovely Strides of March Carrot Run. It's a small run compared to the Pig or the Heart Mini, but it appears to be growing. Usually I can find a spot in the main parking lot; this year, both the main and overflow lots were full. I had to park across the street in some overflow-overflow lot, and I think I was among the last people able to squeeze in there. Next year, I'll know to come earlier.

I'd be lying if I said the Strides wasn't disappointing for me this year. For one thing, since I parked so far away, I had to abandon my swag bag! (There was no way I was going to be able to stash it and make it back to the line by the starting gun. I tied my T-shirt around my waist and bid the rest of the bag farewell.)

And for another, it was a pretty bad run for me. I was too hot, and I felt kinda sick (due to the heat or the Clif bar I wolfed half an hour before race time, who knows?), and I came thisclose to just stopping and walking, which should not happen to me on a flat course after FOUR YEARS of running. I should be able to run a 5K without dying, and I should be able to run it in under 35 minutes.

I ran the whole way, but I missed the 35-minute goal.

But at least I finally remembered to take pictures during the race!

My dad at the turn-around.

Maybe I should have stopped to get a better photo of the silly fruits and veggies (plus the Flying Pig, just to remind you of what you'll be doing in two months) that cheer you on. My on-the-run photo seems somehow perfectly framed to make people in felt produce costumes and saggity pig outfits seem off-kilter. But they are very nice and encouraging!

After the race, we went to IHOP, which was nice.

So for two weeks after the Strides, my goal was to increase, um, my stride. My steps when running are kinda tiny and shuffly (especially when I get tired), and I figured an easy way to improve my pace was to just make each step longer.

And then, at the end of Week 6, everything changed.

Wow.

2009-04-04T13:06:00.000-04:00

Scenes from the nineteenth floor

2009-03-30T13:52:00.000-04:00

I'm not that Kelly

2009-03-22T11:50:00.004-04:00

I've gotten a couple of strange comments in the past week or so. This was a few days ago, and I figured it was spam and deleted it (although there was no link):

Anonymous has left a new comment on your post "Furlough, Day Four: Furloughier Than Ever":

0 comments because you are nowhere as talented. Jealousy will heal over time.

And yesterday, a new comment that seems to explain the previous one:

Anonymous has left a new comment on your post "Coming soon to a mall near you!":

i saw your comment on that girls blog who you called "commonplace" and i just wanted to say that you were 1. not hiding behind an anonymous name and 2. you were so right about everything you said. I don't understand why this girl is worshipped for style that isn't even real style..except all she does is wear cheap forever 21.

So I guess some other Kelly is talking smack about someone on the Internet. Is this person linking to my blog or something, or are people just finding it through a Google search for Kelly Hudson? Because it's not me, anonymous commenters - I promise!

UPDATE. Thanks to those of you in comments who pointed me to the offending post, on a site called fashiontoast. Somebody really did comment as "Kelly Hudson" with a link back to my blog! What person who knows of my blog would even do such a thing?

Anyway, I've written the site admin asking that the comment be taken down. Hopefully she'll have time; her site appears to be a good deal bigger than this one, and according to commenter meso, this sort of thing happens over there all the time. Ah, well - if it's not taken down, people will just come here and learn about what happened through this post.

Coming soon to a mall near you!

2009-03-21T16:05:00.001-04:00

In which I critique a 50-year-old detective novel

2009-03-14T15:41:00.003-04:00

I've been reading The Finishing Stroke by Ellery Queen, and goodness, it's got some lovely, unnerving moments.

Twelve people are invited to a huge old house for two weeks over Christmas. On Christmas Day, someone dressed as Santa pops into the living room to distribute gifts, and they're all so busy unwrapping them that they don't ask at first - if all 12 of them are in the room, then who was Santa?

This is the best part. A glance at the unbroken snow outside tells them that not only is the intruder still in the house, but that he's been there since before the snow stopped falling the night before. They search the house, but it's so big and has so many rooms and stairs that Santa can keep ahead of them if he wants. They find nothing.

So they've been there for three days now, all the time knowing that there's an intruder in the house with them, delivering odd, cryptic messages and gifts to the host every evening and prowling about as they sleep. Brr.

But then the host starts behaving strangely - popping up in what seems to be almost two places at once, not remembering events that took place the previous day. This would be pretty effective, I guess - if not for the fact that we learned IN THE VERY FIRST CHAPTER that the host has a twin brother from whom he was separated at birth. Guess we figured out who the 13th guest is.

Remember A Study in Scarlet, the first Sherlock Holmes novel? Remember how they caught their man, and then a new chapter began explaining the backstory, which took place decades ago on another continent? Maybe Dannay and Lee should have held off on revealing the secret twin until a more dramatically opportune moment.

I'm still looking forward to seeing what the sandalwood ox gift has to do with it, though.

UPDATE. It appears I owe Messrs. Dannay and Lee an apology. The plot has thickened, and the twin doesn't figure. (Or does he?) I'm enjoying this so much more than Calamity Town!

Furlough, Day Four: Furloughier Than Ever

2009-03-14T14:10:00.003-04:00

I'm very proud of all I accomplished on Friday - so much so that I suggested via Twitter that someone should make a "Furlough Achievements" application for Facebook. I even did a couple "FINALLY" tasks: things I've been meaning to get around to for weeks or even months.

- Breakfast achievement: omelet
- Gave bathroom a good scrubbing
- Cleaned out linen/storage closet; threw out much expired makeup and medicine
- Target trip: made a return; picked up lovely bridal shower gift and nice 75-percent-off lamp
- FINALLY made my way to Litwin's to get necklace restrung
- FINALLY got oil changed
- Began DS game Puzzle Quest; quickly became addicted; worked my way up to level 9
- Ran four miles
- Dinner with parents, aunt and uncle

Final furlough day: Friday, March 27.

Food Experiment: Baconated Bourbon

2009-03-07T11:40:00.000-05:00

It was dumb luck that I saw this recipe for bacon-infused bourbon the same day I planned to cook up a batch of bacon for addition to a soup. Hey, it's not like I was going to use the fat for anything else.

So in the normal mad rush to get home on Monday night before Chuck comes on, I found a few minutes to swing by the liquor store for two bottles (gotta have a control group, doncha know) of this:

I chose Evan Williams because Esquire magazine recently rated it the nation's best deal in cheap liquor. (Mr. W scoffed at this, because clearly Esquire magazine has never heard of Luksosawa.) The recipe calls for "good" bourbon, but I'm not about to commit a bottle of Maker's Mark to a food experiment. That way lies madness.

So, the deal is that you pour rendered bacon fat into the bourbon and let it infuse for a while (I let it sit overnight), then chill the mixture until the fat hardens enough so you can strain it out.

(Is there anything one can do with bourbon-flavored bacon fat? The mother of all gravies, perhaps? Maybe that's the next food experiment.)

I sniffed the bottle of Bacon Williams before sealing it back up, but couldn't discern any particular bacony scent. Then I went back online and read about people letting their bacon liquors marinate "for a few days." Uh-oh.

Anyway, that Friday, Mr. W and I had dinner with our friends James and Katie, which seemed like the perfect opportunity for a taste test. So while the others made hamburgers and set out pickles, I poured the drinks.

The little square glass holds Evan Williams (there was a second glass that doesn't seem to have made its way into the picture); the larger round ones have Bacon Williams.

As I poured, I took the opportunity to sniff the two bottles. Compared to his brother, Bacon Williams smelled ... not like bacon. Kind of metallic, maybe?

I didn't tell the others which drink was in which glass; I didn't have to. Katie took one sip from the round glass, frowned, and said, "This one's the bacon, isn't it." It was clear from her tone that that was not a good thing.

There was a definite taste difference, and it was not pleasant. Everyone agreed that instead of bacon flavor, the bourbon seemed to have absorbed the flavor of fat. (To replicate this experience, try drinking a glass of bourbon on the rocks, except in the place of rocks, use lumps of Crisco.)

After those initial sips, everyone stuck to the plain Evan Williams for the rest of the evening. We tried to think of something to do with the Bacon Williams (play a practical joke on an unsuspecting friend, perhaps?), but in the end, Mr. W disposed of it privately. I can only hope he did so in a manner befitting an $11 bottle of bourbon cut down well before his time.

Rating: frowny tipsy face.

An Occurrence ...

2009-03-07T07:50:00.002-05:00

Those of you who read my Wonderful Life series with interest ("both of you," goes the joke, but in this case it's really accurate) might be interested in this alternate reading:

John: So, say Bailey jumped off that bridge and died. Say Clarence was there to guide him to heaven. What would heaven be for such a man? It would be validation. And that's what Clarence the Angel gives him, a tour meant to show him how significant he is. Or how significant, at least, he always secretly believed himself to be.
Chris: Hmm.
John: And then when he repents of his suicide, what does he get? A timeless eternity in his living room surrounded by his loved ones, with everyone he knows in the world coming through the door to tell him how amazing he is. The second half of It's a Wonderful Life makes much more sense if you assume that George Bailey committed suicide, and the rest is Bailey's heaven.
Chris: Is that more or less depressing than the original meaning?
John: I honestly don't know.

Furlough, Day Three: Who Furloughs the Furloughmen?

2009-03-06T20:42:00.003-05:00

My accomplishments on Thursday:

- Stayed up quite late the previous night watching an advance screening of Watchmen.

What, you need more? All righty:

- Breakfast achievement: bacon-tomato-cheese omelet
- Did some work to maintain pristine kitchen condition
- Walked to Rookwood to buy frozen yogurt, Wii mic, microwave turntable, possibly shoes; bought nothing but yogurt
- More fruitful trips to Target and Meijer
- Prepared collard greens for cooking the next day. I bought the pre-shredded greens, but if I had to do it again I'd just get the bunch of leaves - my supposedly "ready to cook" bag was filled with the tough stems you're supposed to discard. At least with the big leaves, I could remove the whole vein at once rather than 17 times in various bits of leaf.
- Cooked pork a new way: seared steaks in cast-iron skillet, then dumped sauerkraut on top and popped into the oven to finish. Result: tasty, but a bit tougher than the shreddy pork that comes out of the slow cooker.

Next furlough day: Friday, March 13. Spooky!

The V-Day report (rather belated)

2009-03-06T08:08:00.000-05:00

Because Valentine's Day was on a Saturday this year and money is tight, I didn't think Mr. W would send flowers to the office.

I was mistaken.

These came on Friday. (Our office was dark that day because Tabari was off, and he's the one who turns on the lights. Seriously.)

In addition to the roses, the box contained a teddy bear:

And a mini bottle of champagne (wrapped in the gold-colored cellophane behind the bear. It came with a straw!).

Whenever this sort of package is delivered to me at work, for the next 15 minutes you will find me bouncing between happiness and embarrassment that a fuss has been made over me. I might be pacing in the hallway, delivering a tongue-tied voicemail to Mr. W ("Um thank you so much they're so pretty um and you're so sweet and um I guess I'll see you later"), or trying work while stealing glances every five seconds at my bouquet, or possibly providing fodder for my female co-workers' giggles: "Look at you, you almost dove under your desk when that guy brought them in!"

I get flustered is what I'm saying.

(On the actual day, we stayed in, ate Indian food, and watched movies. The perfect Valentine's Day.)

RIP Pigall's

2009-03-03T12:53:00.001-05:00

Dozens of bouquets have been laid at the doorway to Cincinnati's only four-star restaurant.

Training, Week Three: The Plague

2009-03-03T09:07:00.001-05:00

Ugh, is everyone you know sick as well? At least four people in my office have been knocked out by illness in the past week. Not counting me.

Last Sunday afternoon I came down with a sore throat that lasted through the first part of the week. Figuring that gasping in the 20-degree air was not the best thing for it, I canceled my Tuesday and Wednesday runs.

But by Thursday the inflammation had gone down, leaving me with just a stuffed-up nose as a souvenir. And while running with a head full of mucus is far from ideal, it's not hazardous to your health, so I endeavored to catch up with a short run Thursday and a regular run Friday.

Sundays are our "long" runs; while full marathoners are battling 12- and 15-milers, those of us following Hal's program for the half just bumped up to five miles. And crikey, was it a cold day for a run! The wind cut right through my clothes, and after about four blocks of bitter chills I considered asking my dad how he'd feel about just turning around and calling it a day.

But we kept going, and eventually the run warmed us up. Still, the cold is probably the reason we stopped to walk less often than normal. The only breaks we took? "Snot breaks" to blow our noses.

(You can add "tissues" to my list of essential running gear, by the way - at least when it's cold.)

Furlough, Day Two: The Furloughening

2009-03-02T13:36:00.000-05:00

My accomplishments:

- Made nice breakfast sandwich with ham and egg and cheese. (I count breakfast as an accomplishment.)

- Paid bills.

- Gave my wreck of a kitchen a good deep clean - like, the kind where you take everything out of the kitchen and move everything that can move so you can sweep under it. The kind where you stand on a stepladder and organize the top shelves in your cabinets. The kind where you shove the mop into the space between the refrigerator and the stove.

I am inordinately proud of this cleaning. I'd have people over to see it if they wouldn't have to walk through my wreck of a living room.

Before:

After:

- Registered for next week's Strides of March 5K.

- Went to Party Source; bought liquor for sister, sodas for me.

- Did two loads laundry.

- Ran 3.5 miles with dad.

Not bad, not bad! Next furlough: this Thursday. I've already got big plans.

Clearing old pix off my phone

2009-03-01T01:27:00.001-05:00

I took this to commemorate the occasion of "gift" becoming a verb.

Relaxing with the parents

2009-02-27T18:47:00.000-05:00

Wow.

2009-02-27T16:46:00.001-05:00

That is definitely a magnet I never expected to see on my parents' fridge.

Training, week two: The Runner's Bag in Winter

2009-02-21T13:36:00.000-05:00

Well, the crazy 60-degree days are pretty much over now, and the weather is approaching normal February temps - highs in the 30s, lows in the 20s.

This also means that I'm back to my usual grab bag of running clothes.

If the temperature is in the 40s, I might need just a turtleneck and a light jacket, plus maybe a hat. If it's in the 20s or 30s, I'll probably have to use my heavier jacket and add gloves. If it's raining, I'll want to double up on shirts and use my water-resistant jacket. And if it's cold enough or the sidewalks are likely to be perilous, I might call off my outdoor run altogether and just do a few miles on the treadmill, which means a T-shirt and shorter pants.

So here's what's in my backpack, besides my heart monitor, shoes and sports bra (which are constants in any run):
- Three pairs running tights (one below-the-knee for indoor runs; one ankle-length with fleecy lining for super-cold days; one ankle-length unlined)
- One turtleneck
- One T-shirt
- Two pairs socks (one lower-cut pair to wear with shorter pants; one pair that comes a bit higher so there's no exposed skin between pant and sock)
- Hat and gloves

And in my car, I keep all three of my running jackets (light, heavy, water-resistant).

Carting all that around is a workout in itself. Come on, spring!

"And you may tell yourself, 'This is not my beautiful house!' "

2009-02-20T11:19:00.002-05:00

I really liked this scene from Chuck. The setup: Chuck and Sarah are going undercover as a married couple in the suburbs, and Chuck is arriving at his new "home" for the first time.

I love how weirded out Chuck is by the suburbs, I love that his cover requires him to drive a Saab, and I love the music choice. Good job, show!

Training, Week One: Roncker's Runners

2009-02-16T20:33:00.000-05:00

The sudden heat wave meant a lovely outdoor run in Mount Lookout on Tuesday, with pants that don't even come all the way down to my ankles! By the time we finished 3.5 miles, the sun was going down.

I was feeling good as I drove home, and I felt even better when I turned onto my street and saw a sea of tiny bobbing lights moving slowly toward me. I was witnessing that harbinger of running season in Cincinnati: the Bob Roncker's Running Spot training group.

The Running Spot group is a common enough sight in Hyde Park/Oakley, and I'll bet there are a bunch of drivers who get annoyed when it takes 15 minutes to turn onto a side street because of all the runners pounding down Madison, but I always like seeing them. They get me motivated; plus, we share a goal. (Heck, I'd consider joining them if it weren't a bit too expensive for my tastes.)

So I parked my car on the street (which took some time because several of the runners were running where I wished to park), got out, and shouted, "Good job, runners! Keep it up!"

Some of them thanked me. One yelled back, "Hey, want to give us a ride to the finish?"

We all laughed, and I made my way up the street with the runners streaming past me, safety lights blinking in the night.