Sticky, Sweet, & A Little Overdressed

Brittney Gilbert has resigned her post as author/editor of Nashville Is Talking following a truly hideous episode of misunderstanding and attacks primarily from — get this — left-wing bloggers. Brittney is a lefty herself, but her position was misunderstood by her linking to a racist piece of garbage a few days ago without making her reason for linking it explicit — which was unnecessary for regular readers, as we all know her take on the mudslinger in question — and in the ensuing maelstrom, whatever the real issues were, they got lost in a flurry of ridiculous trolling and name-calling. Aunt B has an excellent summary of it all.

I’ve been following this whole thing for the past 12 hours or so, and it has been making me reflective and a little sad. I’m disappointed that more people don’t exercise compassion in their dealings with others. I’m disappointed that so many people resort to name-calling so quickly. I’m disappointed that this ultimately pushed Brittney to the point of resignation. And I’m just sad to see extreme reactions have such influence while opportunities for balance and understanding are overlooked.

That may make me sound like a “can’t we all just get along” type, but the thing is, I’m not afraid of confrontation. I believe in being direct with people when there are conflicts, and I strive to be gentle until my gentleness is misunderstood as a sign of weakness, and then all bets are off. I’m not always as compassionate as I should be. I forget sometimes about the feelings and frustrations of the people I’m interacting with. I think most of us do. *

The thing that makes me feel bad, personally, is that this all started because a dude died. And it was the reaction to the dude’s death that got everyone talking. You know, Talking. As in Nashville Is. And Brittney linked to an excerpt of some talking, as she is free to decide to do within the bounds of her job. (I expressed concern in comment #28 over how the link would be interpreted by those unfamiliar to the blog, as well as reservations about adding authority to the racist nonsense by linking to it, but I certainly never meant to suggest that Brittney was wrong to make that call.) It was controversial. It got people talking. I agree that the fact that she linked to it was as relevant as the link itself, but I can’t understand why so many people responded with such a lack of curiosity about either. They simply made their assumptions and began calling names.

I can’t decide whether to hope that WKRN decides to keep Nashville Is Talking up and running with a new author/editor or that they shut it down because Brittney is so much the heart and soul of that blog. What I hope for Brittney is easy, because I fully believe she’ll do really well in her next move.

* (I’m not sure why, but this reminds me to mention that Mack was surprised a few weeks ago, after reading my writings here for some time now, when I described myself in conversation as liberal. Huh? Not that it’s an either-or proposition, but I wonder how many conservatives he knows who are bisexual atheist child-free-by-choice vegans. I’m curious to meet one now!)

I just posted on Nashville Metroblogging about our dramatic storm experience at Pride today. Check it out!

I backed out of the backyard into the alley this morning — naturally, we’re parking out back these days — and was detoured when I got to the end of the alley by Morgan Park Place construction blocking my normal route out to I-65. So I didn’t drive by the front of our house, as I like to do each morning.

Ten minutes later, I got a call from Karsten asking if I’d driven by the front of the house this morning. Strange that he should ask, I thought. No, why?

Well, apparently, someone nicked seven boxwoods from our front yard garden.

Let me just repeat that. Some clever burglar determined it worth his or her while to yank boxwood shrubs out of our garden. Small ones! I mean, have you seen our garden? I’m definitely not claiming it’s the most splendorous garden in all of the South or anything, but it’s got some pretty nice plants in it. The underwhelming hedge we’ve been attempting to grow with a bunch of young boxwood plants is pretty much the least appealing thing in the yard. And this wasn’t just a random act of boredom — someone took the time to grab seven of these things.

Now of course after explaining all of that, I’ll admit that I’m now dreading the disappearance of nicer plants in the garden — they’re sure to be the next to go.

Karsten and I have been told by folks who’ve lived in the neighborhood for a while that plant thefts used to be more common when some vendors at the Farmer’s Market used to buy plants from folks off the street to resell them, no questions asked. We’ve heard that this practice has been discontinued, so I have no idea what the boxwood thief is planning to do with the young shrubs. By ripping them out of the ground as he or she apparently did, the thief probably shocked them enough that they won’t do well when replanted (especially since pretty much all vegetation is still in recovery mode from the Great Easter Freeze), so if the idea was to plant the boxwoods, it’s not likely to be a happy outcome. Maybe I’m mean-spirited, but somehow that makes me feel a little better.

Also worth noting is that, a few weeks ago, someone apparently stole a young but still pretty large tree from the front yard of the house next door (which is for sale — the missing tree was noticed about an hour before they were having an open house). Earlier that day, I’d seen a guy riding by on a bike carrying a shovel. Not to say that’s related, but it could be. Apparently it wouldn’t be the first plant theft in the neighborhood involving a getaway bike, believe it or not.

We were already planning to install a period-appropriate iron hoop-and-spear fence, but all this makes me want to get right on it. (We already have enough motivation because of the bird feeders that keep getting stolen.) Karsten’s calling the guy today to see when we could get started.

Apparently, you can’t pack any aerosols that you don’t spray on your person, so my method lavender air freshener had to go. I gave the can to the two ticket agents, who were only too happy to take it and start spraying behind the ticket counter area. Glad to help.

Good news – we got our loan to do our front porch / entryway work! Yay! What’s especially cool about this is that when we went into the banks to start the application process, we told them what we thought the value of our house was but we aimed pretty high, knowing that the appraiser would most likely be coming in to say “yep, it’s worth that much” or not. Somehow the numbers got mixed up, though, and the mortgage guy gave an even higher figure to the appraiser, who came back saying it wasn’t worth quite that much, but placed it almost exactly at the figure we originally gave. So in just about two years’ time, our house has increased in value by over 60% of what we bought it for. Not too shabby! Some of that is directly attributable to the appreciation of home values in our neighborhood overall, of course, but the new windows and some of the other work we’ve done were factors in the increased value, as well, so that feels good.

Anyway, this means that our front porch and entryway work can begin in the next few weeks, and the bulk of it should be done by late spring. The only part that will probably have to wait is painting, which will likely happen in the fall. And for the next little while, we’ll have to use our back door only, which will be weird. But I think it’s going to look great. I can’t wait.

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S-townMike over at Enclave reports on a lock-down that occurred last night during the Salemtown neighborhood meeting (and then updates the story to clarify that the robbery actually took place on the edge of Germantown).

John H & Lynn mentioned the lock-down when we saw them a little while ago, and we were all talking about how many sirens we’ve been hearing the past few nights. There have also been a lot of police helicopters (cop-copters?) flying overhead with searchlights and all. It’s not unusual to hear a siren every so often, but in the past two evenings sirens have been more like our constant companions. And those searchlights are definitely weirding out the cats.

Can’t tell if it’s all related to the one robbery, or if there’s more.

Strange that it can feel so peaceful and relaxed in this neighborhood (like walking around taking pictures of holiday lights) while all this crime-fighting is going on.

Long line at polling place, North Nashville,
originally uploaded by Kate O’.

I also posted this over at Nashville Metroblogging, but check out these lines out the door by 7:20 AM.

Oktoberfest looks to have been a big success for the Historic Germantown neighborhood, and our party was a blast. Thanks to everyone who came and partied with us, and my apologies to anyone I may have offended by suggesting they patronize the beer vendors while the festival was still running. We bought plenty of beer from the beer vendors ourselves. Yessir, plenty of beer. Yowch.

We probably had 80 people come through our house on Saturday. Bunches of people from the neighborhood, scads of coworkers and some former coworkers, quite a few songwriters and musicians, and some random good friends from who-knows-where. And 2 dogs. (Luckily, the cats were locked up in the office/studio/cat room for most of the day.)

We had drunk people climbing the scaffolding, but no falls. We had people from across the political spectrum, but no brawls. We had over a dozen people on our front stairs, and they didn’t collapse. All in all, a good day.

Just when you think you’ve been called every name in the book, along comes a new moniker. In response to a posting of mine on Nashville Metroblogging complaining of lack of dancing options in Nashville, Omri Ceren posted an article on Gridskipper purporting to list dance venues and, incidentally, referring to me as a “carpetbagging hottie.” Heh. Best left-handed compliment ever. I got a good giggle out of it, anyway.

But as to the original matter of the postings: dancing is not really a priority at most of the venues cited in Omri’s piece. I’ve been to Mercy Lounge quite a few times, and I can’t say there’s been dancing on any of those occasions — at least not by the bar’s patrons. And I’ve seen fights almost break out at Beer Sellar and Legend’s Corner, but I’ve never seen dancing break out at either venue. But Lipstick Lounge is a valid suggestion (one I’d already considered and dismissed, but may reconsider), and this NV Nightclub is news to me. I may have to go check that out.

I’ll be sure to carry my carpetbags when I go.

Just got email from the Nashville blogger known as Chez Bez, who was reminded by my last post that he thought he caught a picture of me and Karsten riding our bikes downtown during the jazz festival a few weeks ago. Sure enough, there we were (fourth picture down).

I had mentioned riding bikes downtown that weekend in a comment on Metroblogging but forgot to write about it here. (ETA: Actually now that I re-read my comment, I guess I was talking about running downtown with Karsten riding his bike beside me. But the next day, we both rode our bikes back down there, so that’s when Chez Bez’s pic was taken.) That’s some pretty cool serendipity.

We love riding along the riverfront to downtown. There’s a great little ice cream parlor on Broadway called Mike’s and they have an awesome chocolate peanut butter flavor. It’s a real treat to ride through the downtown greenway to Riverfront Park, go up Broad a block or two to Mike’s, get a cone, and then carefully (so as not to drip melting ice cream!) ride back over to the riverfront to sit on one of the benches near Fort Nashborough and look out over the river. And it’s only going to get better.

I’m so happy to be in Nashville.

Our new meerkat painting!,
originally uploaded by Kate O’.

Sorry, I’ve been meaning to post an update on the animal art auction and have been too swamped. Or lazy. But swamped makes me sound more important, I think, so I’ve been swamped.

Anyway, we won a painting! And not just any painting: a meerkat painting!

Karsten loves meerkats. All along, I was hoping we’d find a good painting done by meerkats. But the first few we saw were kind of disappointing. Cute, of course — it’s impossible to imagine meerkats painting without being nearly cuted to death — but each of the surfaces had very little pigment on it, so there wasn’t much to be cuted by.

But then we saw this one, and we both agreed it was wonderful. And the colors in it even complement the shabby chic aesthetic we’re going for in the bedroom. So we bid on it and guarded it throughout the evening, and we won it! For a lean $52 (the auction sheet stated its value at $90ish, and just for the frame and matte I’d say that’s about right).

So if you click through to the rest of the pictures on flickr, you’ll be able to see more of the animal art that was up for auction. It was really a fun evening. If it happens again and you’re local, you don’t want to miss it.

Germantown & Salemtown friends,

After losing several bird feeders to theft a few months ago and taking elaborate measures to secure what remained, this morning Karsten and I discovered our bird feeder pole and remaining feeders were gone. Not only gone, but the thief or thieves apparently got frustrated trying to remove them intact and bent the pole back and forth to break it off near the ground.

And actually, we were forewarned: yesterday we found that a small feeder had been stolen from the south side of the house, and the handle on one of the secured feeders in the front yard was twisted, as if someone had tried to break it off from the pole.

Not only are we frustrated at the property loss (the last theft included about $60 worth of feeders — this time, the dollar value is more like $150), but it’s upsetting on a much more significant level: the feeders were a memorial of sorts to my father, who always loved feeding the birds in his own yard.

Anyway, I filed a police report, and I’m letting you all know so you can be aware of the trend. You probably already know to secure your possessions, but here’s a disappointing reminder to be extra cautious.

Take care and be safe,

- Kate O’ at [home address]

Months ago, a songwriter named Kirsti Manna (whom country fans may know as the writer of the Blake Shelton hit “Austin” as in “…P.S. if this is Austin / I still love you”), when Karsten asked her if she could recommend good pizza in Nashville, preferably Chicago-style pizza, recommended Vinny’s Pizza in Hermitage. Karsten has been begging to go there ever since.

So finally, tonight, we went. 28 minutes there, 28 minutes back. And for what? For cracker pizza. I kid you not. Wafer-thin crust, extra-crispy at the edges and soggy in the middle, with barely any sauce or cheese on it. The veggies were nice, but I could’ve been happy with grilled veggies sans cracker crust, thanks.

After this experience and many others like it in the past year and a half, I can only conclude that Nashvillians don’t understand pizza.

Which is sad, really. I love Nashville for many reasons; I plan to be happy here for a long time. But I must now plan to rely on homemade pizza and trips to Chicago for any chance at decent pizza from a restaurant.

[Incidentally, the one perk that driving to Bumblefuck and back affords is this: during such a long trip, you might get to hear nightfly's voice on the radio, as I did. Which is cool. (I think it was that Opry Mills "shut up and drive" spot again, but I only caught the tail end of it so I'm not sure.) ]

I’m back at home now, sipping hot cocoa, feeling full but disappointed. Oh well. They can’t all be Gino’s East.

Note that the house is actually under renovation now, but we already know we won’t like a good many of the changes. (For example, they’re installing carpet over the hardwoods. Mind you, the floors aren’t in great shape, but they’ve got character and I despise carpet.) But we found out that the seller had already received an offer like the one we were originally thinking of making: “here’s 6% less than asking; now stop the renovations and step away from the property.” But the seller’s agent said that the seller wanted to continue the work she’d already contracted. Hooookay. So we made a full-priced offer and we’re allowing them to finish the renovations. It’s weird, but hey — at least some of the work is bound to be worthwhile.

Anyway, you can see throughout most of these pictures that the renovation is underway, as there are tools lying around and there’s dust everywhere. And for whatever reason, the seller still has loads of junk piled up throughout the house and out on the back porch and driveway. Part of the agreement is that she has to remove all of it, but it was all still there when I took these photos.

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Check out this beautiful ichneumon wasp I saw at Cheekwood. Here’s more about the ichneumon (only they call it a fly). I’d never even heard of it, but Nature Boy Karsten knew what it was right away.

We received word from our apartment property manager yesterday that they were doing some work this morning requiring us to move our car from the lot by 8:00 AM, so it seemed like a good morning to go out for breakfast. Headed over to Murphy’s Loft Cafe (formerly the Red Rooster Cafe) for day-old muffins (only $1!) and coffee & juice. We enjoyed the opportunity to sit outside and leisurely sip our drinks.

Then, since all clothing at Salvation Army is 50% off on Wednesdays, it was time to do a little thrift shopping. Didn’t really find anything, which is just as well since I just bought a zillion new-to-me articles of clothing a few weeks ago.

Alright, now this is kind of embarassing. I had a coupon from the back of a Kroger receipt for a week free at Curves, which is right down the street. I thought, hey that’s convenient — I won’t have to go the office and I can still work out. I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t know! I thought it was a gym. It’s not a gym. It’s some kind of demented 30-second rotation half-hour fitness program and weigh-you-in and take-your-measurements thing. I listened politely to the woman give me the tour of the place but as soon as she said “Alright, let’s take your measurements!” I said “I don’t think I need to waste any more of your time. I don’t think this is right for me. I thought it was a gym. I was looking for treadmills. Cardio equipment. Things like that.” And she said, “Yeah, I can look at you and see you don’t need to lose weight, but I didn’t want to say anything.” She didn’t want to say anything? Until what? Until I actually did lose weight? That place is weird. Weird weird weird.

So anyway, I left, but I was all psyched up for a workout, and now I had to decide if it was worth it to me to go to the office and risk feeling stress on my vacation just to work out. And then it dawned on me that I could run in Centennial Park instead! But I was nervous about that because I haven’t run on pavement since my injury. And then I remembered that I had my rollerblades in the trunk. So I got good and warmed up by rollerblading five laps on the mile loop and then felt comfortable running two laps.

Got back home, showered, dressed, and went out with Karsten to Kalamata’s. I ordered their baba ghannouj for the first time, and it was wonderful. Nice and smoky, just the way I like it.

Went furniture-browsing (”furniture-ogling” is more like it) at Nouveau Classics and 2 Danes. Must get rich so I can afford cool mid-century modern and contemporary Scandinavian furniture in my home. Someday.

Dinner at Tayst. Yum! We started with the Chickpea Cake, which was served in some kind of delicious sauce. I can’t remember how it was described on the menu and I know I can’t do it justice, but it was unbelievably good. Followed that with the Bibb Salad with (I think it was) fennel-infused walnut oil vinaigrette. For the entree, we split a very elegant baked potato with vegetable spears marinated in a ginger sauce and served in a half-red, half-yellow pool of gazpacho and ginger sauce. I finished with a scoop of raspberry-black licorice sorbet, which was just about the best thing I’ve ever tasted. It was spectacular, although Karsten says it was a bit dada for his preference. Still, he had to admit that the service was outstanding and even if the menu was a bit pretentious, the service certainly was not.

After dinner, we decided to swing by the Commodore Bar & Grill, which is one of the writers’ nights venues that became popular after several of the other ones mysteriously shut down last year within several weeks of each other. Anyway, after all this time, we’d still not checked it out. We ran into a friend who was playing a feature set tonight, so that was a nice surprise.

And then it was back home. And now I’m getting sleepy. It’s been a good, long day.

Cheekwood rocks the house. Can’t believe we’ve lived here this long and yesterday was our first visit. I knew it would be nice, but that’s as far as my expectations went: “nice.” In fact, it was spectacular. Beautiful. Tranquil. Loved the sculpture trail. Loved the Japanese garden.

So we bought a “Family” membership, which means we now get in free as often as we want, and we can bring two guests with us. And we plan to go back frequently. Yay!

Lunch was at Baja Burrito (as was dinner, thanks to the magic of huge burritos and reheated leftovers). We gave up on trying places we’d never been before: they were all turning out to be so disappointing!

And I mostly finished my CD ripping project. I have a small stack remaining, and they should be finished by the end of today. Feels great to finish a household project finally. I’ve had so many of these kinds of things in limbo for, well, for years, really. Should have done this vacation at home thing a long time ago. Maybe not a whole week, maybe that amount of time is too much. But a few days and a weekend, that should do it. I’ll have to plan for that again in maybe a year or so.

Yesterday was another peaceful morning of organizing MP3s and writing songs. Finished a draft in the morning — that felt good. Organized my office and closet somewhat.

Then it was off to a god-awful lunch at U.S. Border Cantina, a party-hearty Mexican place apparently popular with Vandy frat boys who drink too many margaritas on Sunday afternoons to leave peacefully. Ugh. Never going back there again.

A little grocery shopping at Wild Oats, and then home again. I was determined that it would be a restful day, in spite of the efforts of Vandy frat boys.

We ate pasta for dinner and watched America’s Sweethearts, which is one of the DVDs we bought for cheap at The Great Escape. It was better than I remembered. The ending was a little smarmy, but I laughed out loud several times prior to that.

I’ve been using some of this vacation time to rip the rest of my CD collection so I can sell it and be done with it. I’ve made a lot of progress, but I have probably over 100 to go.

I’m counting yesterday as the start of my vacation ’cause that makes it seem longer.

Spent a lazy morning organizing my MP3s. I deleted a bunch I never listen to and swapped in some new workout music onto my Clie.

Went out for lunch at Cafe Coco. Disappointing. Greasy. Pricey. Small portions. (I only ever eat small portions, but I like to take home leftovers.) But we sat outside and that was nice.

Next stop: The Great Escape outlet and the main store. Finally found The Thorns CD and for only $3.99! Also picked up some super-cheap DVDs and a book on how various songwriters got inspired to write certain songs. I love books like that.

Quick trip to the zoo for Ice Day! Many of the animals got frozen treats appropriate to their diet, such as bloodsicles for tigers and fishsicles for otters. (The otter looked as eager for the treat as Karsten was to see the otter eat it.) Karsten’s favorite animals there are the meerkats and mine are the clouded leopards — and neither of them seemed to have been given any icy treats that we could see, so that was kind of a bummer.

Picked up our holds at the library, some goodies at Kroger, and then swung by Big Lots for some English muffins. Karsten noticed that they had the Kellogg’s Strawberry Mini-Wheats with the AAdvantage miles again, so we bought all 25 boxes of them. I felt like Adam Sandler’s character in Punch-Drunk Love buying all the yogurts or whatever… but it really makes a lot of sense when you break down the cost per mile. And you’re getting all that tasty cereal, to boot!

Cooked up some homemade pizza for dinner and watched “Nicholas Nickleby,” which was OK, but not fantastic.

And now I’m posting this update while munching on Strawberry Mini-Wheats. I have enough of them to eat them all the time.

Last night we kicked off our Nashvegas vacation by hanging out on the Demonbreun strip. For non-Nashvillians, this strip (pronounced something like “duh-MUN-bree-un” or “deh-MON-bree-un” — no two native Nashvillians pronounce it the same way) is what used to be a line of so-tacky-they’re-funny gift and souvenir shops. Now they’re so-trendy-they’re-not-even-cool bars and restaurants. Like Christopher Pizza Company, where we ate dinner, and Caffeine, where we had coffee and juice afterward. It’s great people-watching, though — some of the best this town has to offer. And last night, Gary Allan was scheduled to play at an outdoor concert series for one of the bars, so the strip was mad packed.

We got bored with it eventually and couldn’t think of anywhere else we were dying to go, so we went home and watched our DVD rental: “Along Came Polly,” which was OK, but it was very obvious that it was the same screenwriter who did “Zoolander” and “Meet the Parents” — he rehashed a good many gags. Jennifer Aniston was great, though. She made a role that could have been a little hard to get across — someone flakey and commitment-phobic — seem endearing and credible.

Oh, and I gave myself a mud mask facial last night, too. That was nice. Except Karsten made fun of my mint-green face. Bastard.

Not sure what’s on for today yet.

[seasons got to it first, but I intended all day to post some of my favorites. ]

You are so Nashville if…

You need a war to sell records. (This year’s winner!)

You intentionally drive drunk in hopes of promoting your new album.

You feel vaguely snubbed by the cicadas.

You drive to a park (Percy Warner) to walk on a street (Belle Meade Boulevard).

You blame all your failures on either Clear Channel or illegal downloading.

You survived Fan Fair — or whatever it’s called now.

You slip your demo tape into the bags of trick-or-treaters.

You haven’t been here long enough to really know what being “so Nashville” is.

John Ashcroft asks you to drape your roundabout.

You grab your guitar (with dollar signs in your eyes) and write a song after each national tragedy.

You know which kind of Girl Scout Cookie Brooks and Dunn prefer.

You’ve driven down Music Row listening to a CD full of illegally downloaded songs.

You can’t check out a library book on Fridays.

You’ve been in a traffic jam in the Baja Burrito parking lot.

Upon seeing the success of Gretchen Wilson’s “Redneck Woman,” you just know Keith Urban will follow with his own “Redneck Metrosexual.”

You’re a producer, a manager, and a publisher — and still eat Ramen noodles nightly.

I had such a blast Tuesday night. Some songwriting friends from Chicago were in town, and we went to see a round at Caffeine that included Marc Alan Barnette, who always puts on a lively show with songs like “There’s Too Much Blood In My Alcohol Level.” After the show, our friends were chatting with Marc Alan, and he invited us all to join him next door at Tin Roof for a beer.

I’ve met Marc Alan several times, but had not hung out with him — he’s a total nut, and had us all in stitches. He knew everybody in the bar, it seemed, and he introduced us to several hit writers who happened to walk by, including Don Rollins, who co-wrote “It’s Five O’Clock Somewhere.”

One of Marc Alan’s friends who hung out with us was Brian Haner, a phenomenal guitarist from L.A. who used to play in Frank Zappa’s band and has done session work for the likes of Paul Simon. He was a great conversationalist — I hope to hang out with him again next time he’s in town.

This is right by my boss’ boss house, where Karsten and I house-sit and dog-sit and occasionally kid-sit (we’ll be doing that again next week).

We’d noticed the tree in the road and wondered what was up with it, but believe it or not, we didn’t realize Gore and Frist both live on that street. Interesting.

Milestones upcoming and past. This helps me stay aware of what a given period of time feels like.

• Just under a month until I see my dad, maybe for the last time.
• One month exactly until I turn 30.
• Two months (when the music executives are all back in their offices after the holidays) until we can really get back to trying to pitch our songs.
• Three months, maybe four, until I can pay off the heaviest credit card I now carry.
• Four months until the system I work on is widely released.
• Five months until the Country Music Marathon.
• Two years until I pay off my credit cards under the new, more aggressive payment plan.
• Two years and four months until we can buy a house.
• Two years and eight months since we left California.
• Almost two years since I stopped dating other people.
• A year and ten months since we left Portland.
• Nine months since we came to Nashville.

Running in Charlottesville this weekend did me in, I think — all those hills.

Of course, one of my locker room buddies teased me with “Well, if you’ll ever leave the park, you’ll find that Nashville is a hilly place too.”

I have left the park, thank you very much — I ran up and down hilly Music Row, and it was tough on my knees. I don’t think I’m ready for intensive hillwork yet.

So anyway, yesterday morning, it felt like I was running through water. And this morning, I felt like a limp rag doll, even though I was taking it very easy on my first mile. Finally had to give up and go inside. Quite frustrating.

I’m hoping my muscles will be fully recovered by tomorrow morning and I can put in at least four miles, maybe five.

And running isn’t the only thing affected by my trip to C’ville — I can’t seem to focus on work since I’ve been back. Could’t have anything to do with signing back up on LiveJournal, could it?