Lucky Charms - Tuesday Tune, vol 108

Spouse and I went to a wedding tonight. What rabid gift, pray tell, do we frequent newlyweds?

Lucky Charms. A whole case. Fourteen pounds of oaty-marshmellowing goodness.

Pink hearts! Orange stars! Green clovers! Purple horseshoes! Yellow moons!  Food for gettin' lucky!  Just in time for St. Patty's Day!

Lucky Charm Stray Cats
Waiting For My Lucky Day Chris Isaak
Just Got Lucky JoBoxers
Lucky Man Emerson, Lake & Palmer
Luck Be A Lady Frank Sinatra
Luck Of The Draw Bonnie Raitt
A Stroke Of Luck Garbage
Lucky Star Madonna
I Feel Lucky Mary Chapin Carpenter
Good Luck Charm Elvis Presley
Is It Luck? Primus
Lucky 13 Smashing Pumpkins (warning... "language")
Some Guys Have All the Luck Rod Stewart
Good Luck Chuck The Dandy Warhols
You Got Lucky Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers
Better Luck Next Time Lifehouse
I'm Just A Lucky So And So Louis Armstrong & Duke Ellington
Lucky Guy (Album) Roy Jay
The Lucky Ones Brendan James
Lucky 1 Avey Tare
Iceblink Luck Cocteau Twins
Lucky Jason Mraz Ft.Colbie Caillat
Lady Luck Jamie Woon
Lucky Man The Verve

And the grand finale...
With a Little Luck Wings
(There's no end to what we can do... TOGETHER!)

What's Up – The 2012 Edition

This blog has proven itself useful when it comes to remembering details.  For example, Spouse and I had a recent conversation about Fart Fishes, that, had I not taken the time to document, would have been lost forever.  Forever!  Can you imagine a Forever that doesn't include Fart Fishes?

Today I plan to play catch-up.  So, it is with pleasure and loads of sarcasm, that I present you with "What's Up – The 2012 Edition."  It's way random, which is altogether fitting because I'm way random.


Spouse got us new internet for Christmas.  He bought us a new modem and signed us up for more megabits and more megapieces.  Life has changed around here.  Downloads are lightning-quick, and streaming is (mostly) seamless. Oh, dearest, beloved internet, how I love you so.  I loved you so before the upgrade.  Now, however?  My love for you is down right lusty.  (No, I'm not into porn, so not that kind of lusty.  More of an information-at-your-fingertips kind of lusty.)

Speaking of streaming, streaming's the only way we watch TV.  We have ditched the cable and the dish, for the up-and-coming internet technology.  Lately, we're into that show Psych.  Holy smokes that's a funny one.  We are almost through season 5.  When we finish Season 5, we'll prolly go back to Season 1 and watch it all over again.  Watching TV shows after the fact is the only way to go... no wasted time on commercials.

Speaking of commercials, sometimes I miss the commercials.  Some commercials can be quite funny. Like this one:

'Cept I'm not going to post it because each youtube offering has loads of offended folks leaving F-bombs.  Come on... if you cannot make fun of yourself, life will cease to be fun.  Get it?  The only way to have fun is to make fun.  I think the F-bomb is lazy way to insult.  It lacks any and all creativity.  Like, if you feel the urge and/or need to tell someone to eff-off, there's got to be a clevererererer way to do it.   Like, you could say, "I was going to tell you to eff off but decided not to 'cause I'm way clevererererererer."

Speaking of F-bombs, I get lots of them in my line of work.  It's joyous.  I used to take it personally but have since decided that it's a lazy way to insult, and only people for which I need to be sorry use it when requesting help.  As if your effing adjectives and effing adverbs will procure a desire for me to assist you immediately.  As if.  Lemme give you a little hint.... "please" and "thank you" work wonders above and beyond eff'n thises or eff'n thats.

Speaking of my job, I've worked 55 days in a row.  Granted, they are not full days, but a day I can't jet nonetheless.  I had thought about taking a day off somewhere around day 40 but decided working that many days is fine fodder for bragging, and 60 days would be a nice, round, bragging number.  I will take a day off after I hit 60.  Something tells me that I'll be rearing for a full day off at day 60 and won't be able to do it... Or, that day 60 will roll around and I'll say, "Forget about 60! Let's go the whole season!"

Speaking of jets and days off, I've skied exactly once this year.   And it wasn't even a full day.  I'd really love to blame this on something, but honestly, I haven't had the desire.  Not a lot of snow has landed this year.  Also, the Yahoos aren't into it much and I cannot muster the cheerleading required to make them go.

Also speaking of jets and days off, Megan and Jessica talked me into running the NYC marathon again.  We wacky three have planned an inter-statial rendezvous.  Can't wait.

Speaking of Megan, she sent me these fun socks, they're anatomy socks.

Speaking of anatomy, then speaking of running, I'm injured.  Good grief it's about time.  I've been waiting for this to happen so that I can take some time off.  Kidding.  Totally kidding.  I'm going out of my mind.

Speaking of injury and pain, Yahoo #2 lost his third tooth.  He tugged on that thing for weeks, then finally allowed Spouse to yank it with pliers.  Strange.  You should see that kid get his teeth cleaned.  He cries and bawls like someone's jamming toothpicks under his finger and toenails.

Speaking of finger and toenails, I trimmed the Yahoo's nails today.  This is necessary for piano practice.

Speaking of piano practice, the Yahoo's piano teachers are moving to an as-of-yet unknown location.  Yahoo #1's teacher (Josh) has applied entry to the DMA program at many schools.  The closest school is in Cleveland, and the furthest (farthest?) is New York, I think. (Julliard...  funny how the Cleveland school is a better school, yet Julliard carries more weight among the non musically educated. Or so I've heard.  Also, DMA stands for Doctorate of Musical Arts or something like that.)  Since Yahoo #2's piano teacher is married to Yahoo #1's piano teacher (Lindsey) that means she moves too.  She has a DMA from the University of Utah.  She's fancy like that.  Also, drop-dead gorgeous.  Wow.

Speaking of Lindsey, the Rabid has made arrangements for piano lessons this summer.  At Yahoo #2's recital, I watched her play, and I watched her students play.  Right then I thought, "She's moving away.  What if they move away forever and I never have the chance to take lessons from her?!"  That's when I sweet-talked her into some summer schooling.

Speaking of schooling, I've been schooling myself about food, and more specifically, the origin of food. It all started with a mad dose of documentaries.  I watched King Corn, then Food, Inc. and a few others. I've since decided that the egg is the perfect food because it's loaded with protein and has minimal processing.  I've been eating a lot of eggs lately.  The trouble, however, is eggs can be pretty boring and I've had to look for recipes.  Shakshura is my favorite egg dish thus far.

Speaking of recipes, I've found Pinterest.  I don't use Pinterest to follow people... I really couldn't give a crap about what other people are surfing.   Pinterest is how I've decided to manage the muchiness of the Internet.  Sometimes the internet just has too much stuff.   Don't you think?  It's very muchy.  How do you harness this muchiness? Lemme tell ya: Pinterest.  I use Pinterest to organize stuff on the internet.  When I see something that I want to remember, something I really like – a Shakshura recipe for example – I pin it and classify. Pins are the ultimate internet bookmark.  All visual and stuff.

Speaking of the internet, Spouse got us new internet for Christmas.  He bought us a new modem and signed us up for more megabits and more megapieces.  Life has changed around here.

Injury Treatment 201

Lots has been going on around here, yet nothing has been going on around here.  How is it that so little can happen when so much is going on?  Baffling, I say.  Baffling.  There's so much I need to tell you all!

I need to tell you all that my job is crazy time-consuming right now, but that I love it.  Which means I need to tell you that I'm embarrassed to admit that I love a job that has to do with taxes.  This would then lead into me telling you that my job is a really a problem-solving job that involves taxes as opposed to a tax job that has a few problems to solve on the side.  See, there's a huge difference between a problem-solving tax-time job and tax-time problem-solving job.  It's like having ice cream with just a little chocolate syrup as opposed to dish of chocolate syrup with only a dollop of ice cream.

I just totally compared my tax job to ice cream.  Wow.

I have lots to say.  Eventually, I want to document the nitty gritty details of the Houston Marathon.  It was a great experience and I want to make sure I remember it.  Today (tonight, actually) I don't have the gumption and/or drive to write it up, so the entire documentation of said Houston Marathon will need to wait.

What will not wait, however, is a full-on recap of something that happened a few weeks before the marathon, and how I was riding that dreaded teeter-totter o' injury.  (It's March now, so we'll spice up the internet with an obnoxious display of o'thises and o'thats.)

Two weeks before marathon day, I developed a calf-strain.  It was a day just like today, only it was a stressful day.  We had made a huge purchase and I was having buckets o' stress about this purchase.  (See... I need to tell you about this purchase too!) I jumped up to go grab something, when out of nowhere, a giant shark bit my calf!  It was an inner-shark really, more like a calf knot shark that went on strike and yelled "NO MORE."  That calf bite stopped me in my tracks.  I was on the couch for a day or two.

I'm prone to calf issues.  I try to frequent a deep tissue massage at least once a month to keep the calf issues to a minimum.  But as luck would have it, I was stressed, the body was feeling "off", and the calf-shark decided to bite.

Now, remember up above?  Where I said I was already stressed?  With buckets o' stress?  Yes, I was stressed, and having a calf strain two weeks before a marathon adds oceans o' stress... or at least an English Channel o'stress.

So what did I do?  Did I panic and cry and complain? Yes, but just a little bit.  After I had thrown a minor pity-party, I brought out my big-gun injury treatment procedures and began to relax.  What are these big-gun treatments o' injury procedures?  Here they are...  in x amount of steps.  (Where x is the number that I end up with when I'm finished.)

Step One: Don't panic.  Panic does not help the body recover.  Relax, grab some movies, sit around and chill.  And I do mean chill.  No cross-training, no nothing.  Chill.  And if it's March then o' chill.  (After a few days of chill, then you can start the cross-training.)

Step Two:  Send blood to the injury.  This involves going to the freezer for that blood you set aside a few weeks back – you know, that blood you were hoping to inject for extra umph a few days before the day o' the race – and injecting that blood directly into the site o' the injury.

Totally kidding, of course.  Like I have syringes and whatnot at my disposal for doing stuff like this.  As if.

For reals, though, send some blood to the injury.  Injury treatment is all about tricking the body.  You need to trick that body of yours into sending all the blood it can to the injured area.  The more blood in the area, the quicker the body will heal.  Some people say this can be accomplished with some metaphysical bull-honkey – you know, where you imagine little tiny blood-cell men, marching straight to the injury with swords, salves and syringes.  But this is not the trickery I mean.  The trickery I'm talking about is temperature shock.  That is, get the area as hot as you can stand it, then get it as cold as you can stand it.

On the first day o' injury, apply cold.  Do not apply heat.  After a day or two, switch it up with some hot-cold-hot-cold action, and make sure you listen to that Katy Perry hot then yer cold, PMSing like a bee-otch tune while you do it.  (Note: Always, always, ALWAYS, end on cold.  I don't know why, I just always do.  ALWAYS.)

The calfs and ankles are my spots o' trouble.  Therefore, you'll find me doing the hot-cold-hot-cold ritual the minute I feel something isn't right.  For example, during the last couple of days, my left calf has been acting up.  And when the calf acts up, it pulls on the achilles.  The achilles is not something you mess with, like, ever, so the minute I full an uncomfortable o' yankery, the feet and calves go a soaking.

Usually, I fill one side of my sink with water o' hot-as-hades, and dump a bag of ice with cold water in the other.  Then I soak in the hot for 5-10 minutes, switch it to ice-bath for 5-10 and repeat – always, always, ALWAYS ending on cold.  (Just trust me on the ALWAYS part, it works.)

Here's the cool part about this little ritual o' mine: after you finish, you can feel all sorts of extra blood pumping it's way to the injury.  That area has been shocked with temperature, and the body panics by sending blood.  It's totally terrific.  You should try it some time.  If you're lucky like me, you can get a Yahoo to join.  And he your really lucky, he'll protect you with a fully-automatic lego-assault rifle.

Step Two Point Five: Sterilize the sink.

Step Three: Take some ibuprofen.  For ibuprofen is the nectar of the gods.  And if you believe in only one God, it's proof that He loves us.

Step Four: Find a way to laugh.  It ain't the end of the world and it will get better.  In the mean time, lighten up and make fun of something, like yourself.  For laughter will forever (and ever and ever) be the best of medicines.

Step Five: If you can't find anything to laugh at, get yourself a pound cake and a jar of Nutella.

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun - Tuesday Tune, vol 107

You know what the human body is made of?  Oh, you think you do, and the scientists think they do too.  For kicks and many giggles, here's the elemental makeup of the human body (according to science):

Oxygen (65%)
Carbon (18%)
Hydrogen (10%)
Nitrogen (3%)
Calcium (1.5%)
Phosphorus (1.0%)
Potassium (0.35%)
Sulfur (0.25%)
Sodium (0.15%)
Magnesium (0.05%)
Copper, Zinc, Selenium, Molybdenum, Fluorine, Chlorine, Iodine, Manganese, Cobalt, Iron (0.70%)
Lithium, Strontium, Aluminum, Silicon, Lead, Vanadium, Arsenic, Bromine (trace amounts)

The scientists have it all wrong.  The human body is 75% fun.  At least.  Ideally, fun should be in the 85% - 90% range, but 75% is acceptable during various times of duress.  This girl, this RabidRunner, is not having much fun lately. Nope.  Nada.  And that's why today's tune is:

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun – Cyndi Lauper
(That's all they really want!  Is some fun!)

Hopefully listening to this tune will jump start my fun-ometer.  If it doesn't, run for cover! A rabid girl that hasn't had fun in a while is a scary creature.

A Romance on Three Legs

I have 30 minutes to kill.  I've decided not to ruin this 30 minutes by doing something productive.  Like clean the house, or clear out the junk mail or something like that.  This 30 minutes is blissful and I shall savor it by writing a book report.  Some might say that writing a book report can be considered productive, but don't tell me that, else it will ruin my zest for the book report.

Case in point: A few weeks ago we were at dinner with some friends. They started talking about Malcolm Gladwell's rule of 10,000 hours, and then I started to say that I liked his other book better.  They wanted to know the name of this other book.  I told them it was Tipping Point, but drew a blank on what the book was about.  "Please hold," said I, "I wrote a book report on it."

Now while I was pulling up this book report on the mePhone, Carol said "You did a book report on it?"  I said, "I do book reports on all the books I read."  She said, "Why?"  I returned with a, "No good reason."

And that, folks, is what fun is all about.  Doing something for no good reason.  And that's why I'm killing this 30 minutes with a book report.


A Romance on Three Legs: Glen Gould's Quest for the Perfect Piano
by Katie Hafner





This book, a selection from that fabulous Creative Nonfiction variety, is the story of legendary concert pianist Glenn Gould.  Gould was best known for his Bach interpretations and recordings.  He was an extremely particular character who had specific requirements.  After years of search, Gould found the perfect piano – A 7-foot Steinway known as CD 318, and the perfect piano technician – a legally blind Verne Edquist.

Gould, his CD 318, and the magic of Verne Edquist are the makings of this Three-Legged-Romance.

Get it?  A piano has three legs.  Gould's romance with the piano required three separate parts?  Him, the piano, the tech.  Hello threesome!  Do you see the metaphor and/or simile?  Clever, right?  Right.  Sadly that's kind of where the clever runs out with this one.

Gould is an interesting person. Steinway pianos have history and intrigue galore.  Edquist's rise from poverty and disability, to become the piano tech for the world's leading piano virtuoso, is a great story.  Those three things make the book fantastic.

I wasn't all that interested in the author's writing, however.  Seems most paragraphs were structured the same, and the display of events was just basic magazine editorial type stuff. (Not that I could do a better job, but you know.  I like to read what I like to read.)

Speaking of basic magazine editorial type stuff, you should get me started on Jon Krakauer.  That dude is the luckiest person alive.  Somehow he landed upon some meaty happenings, and somehow he managed to make those happenings into books that people would read.  I read a few.  And each time, I thought, "Man alive, Krakauer, (this was an especially particular sentiment for Into the Wild) you are so lucky that what you're writing about has substance.  Cause, like, the writing is boring."

Now back to our normally scheduled program, Romance on Three Legs.  Turn to any page in the book, and you'll find at least three paragraphs that are structured in a  dangling phrase, comma, another dangling phrase, comma, action phrase.  (I'm no expert of English, so someone?  Could you possibly let us all know what this type of sentence structure is actually called?  That'd be great.  Thanks.)

For example, to see what I mean, an example to introduce my example will be my next sentence, or you can simple read this sentence again.

For example, I just flipped to any page, and landed on page 70 and 71, which said:

"As the rim is curing and the wood is growing accustomed to its new shape, other parts are being built, including the soundboard, the acoustical centerpiece of the instrument."

or

"To Henry Z., in the business of piano making, craft came before science."

or

"Under normal circumstances, producing a Steinway concert grand like W 905 could take the better part of a year."

In effort to prove the blatant in-yer-faceness of this sentence structure, I'll flip to yet another random page, 146 and 147:

"As preternaturally gifted a musician as Gould was, he was still utterly dependent on the technician to keep 318 in top condition, which enabled him to fully achieve his distinct playing style."

or

"For their part, Eaton's and Steinway–especially Steinway–were only too happy to let Gould do whatever he wanted to the piano, for they had long since written it off as over the hill."

or

"Once the piano was exactly as Gould wanted it, the hiccups became so ubiquitous that when Gould recorded the Bach Inventions, a CBS sound engineer had to work overtime to splice out the majority of the stray notes."

See what I mean?  Those sentences are everywhere – I dare say more than half the book is written this way. I found it a touch distracting. Some people find this type of writing engaging, so I'm sure those people think this book flawless in presentation.  Books are like music in that way, it's all about what you like.  There is no right or wrong when it comes to personal taste.

Writing aside, A Romance on Three Legs is fascinating, and recommended.  Even gave it to Yahoo #1's piano teacher for Christmas.

Oh, and wouldn't you know, my 30 minutes are up.


p.s. Did you catch me ending with two of those dangler phrase, comma, dangler phrase, comma action phrase sentences? 

Marathon Music Manager – Tuesday Tune, vol 106

Yo!  What up?!

(I feel so young and fresh when I talk like that.)

It's been a whole month since the Rabid Family returned from Houston.  We had a terrific time.  I love every single itty-bitty-bit about vacation with my little family.  Snakes alive, I'm one lucky girl!

Having this great family is just the beginning, for I have many, many great friends.  I'm surrounded by terrific people.  I truly am.  It's like that 6th Sense movie, where Haley Old Oz-Whats-His-Name says, "I see dead people.... they don't know they're dead... they're everywhere!"

See it's like that.  Only, "I see terrific people... they don't know they're terrific... they're everywhere!"

Everywhere, I tell you.  EVERYWHERE.

Today, in honor of my Houston Marathon, I'd love to showcase one of the many terrifics.  See, I have this Marathon Music Manager.  I'm so lucky.  Just before a marathon, she throws an iTunes gift card in my general direction, then sends me a few playlists to browse through.  I browse, and then I purchase, and then I put those new tunes on my marathon playlist with gratitude, and then when I'm running along in that marathon, I feel more gratitude when these new tunes show themselves.

I figured I could wax lovingly about this Marathon Music Manager – all day, even – but I decided instead to publish the marathon music exchange, which, coincidentally, contains a list of today's Tuesday Tunes.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Dearest, belovedest, sweetest, Marathon Music Manager,

As is the case with all the managers in my life, they're often want for a status of sorts.. you know, what I've been up to, what's been accomplished, etcetra.  Figured that my MMM was no different, so here's what I've come up with so far...

Don't Stop (Color On the Walls) Foster the People

Helena Beat Foster the People

Call It What You Want Foster the People

Young Blood The Naked and Famous

Hold On (Radio Edit) The Chain Gang of 1974

Off to the Races Lana Del Rey

Weekend   Class Actress

We Found Love (feat. Calvin Harris) Rihanna

2 Hearts Digitalism

Embrace Pnau

World's Got a Handle Sun Wizard

With You Forever Pnau

Peponi Paradise (feat. Alex Boye)  Steven Sharp Nelson & Jon Schmidt

Call It Off (Bonus Track) Washed Out

Amor Fati Washed Out

Your Eyes Bombay Bicycle Club

All this new stuff?!?!  Thank you!

Now, I'm going to download a few of that there Shalane Flanagan's.  

Also, I bought a whole album from "Washed Out."  None of it is worth running to, for it is way mellow.  But it's completely new to me and I dig their groovy chord progressions.

Thanks Again!

Rabid

p.s. Foster the People?  So fun!  So fun.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Then the Marathon Music Manger replied with this:

-----------------------------------------------------------

Dearest, belovedest, sweetest, Marathoner,

As your manager, I appreciate the unprompted update.  It demonstrates to me that you take the job of Marathoner (who uses Music) very seriously.

Additionally, I'm impressed by your song choices (as expected).  There is variety.  There is intrigue.  There is a cover song.  The makings of a fine Marathon Music Mix.

I'm so glad I could be of service and so (SO!) glad you get to be in Houston and see the trials and run a marathon.  I'm so excited to read the race report you will inevitably write (even if it's just to me and some others and not the whole group of RabidRunner RabidReaders (I like being a special one who gets updates even when the whole world doesn't)).

You're my inspiration.

Much love,
MMM

p.s. thanks for the tip on Foster the People and Washed Out.  Great stuff!

-----------------------------------------------------------

See?!  I see terrific people... they don't know they're terrific... they are everywhere!

Snakes alive, I'm one lucky girl.

This Is The Sound....!

I realize today isn't Tuesday, but you're going to get a tune anyways.  It's

The Sound of Silence by Simon and Garfunkel

Note the photo below.  This is not the sound of silence.  It's the sound (and site) of water damage.  Boo!  The blowing hum of these basement-savers produces enough white noise to silence the whole neighborhood  I cannot wait to turn them off!