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We have a line of cookbooks over on the microwave shelf (the microwave the cats eat on top of. It protects their food from Clara — I know, I know, but we don’t prepare food there).

Often, when we get home, the cats have pulled out a book for us to consider. (We don’t know why.) Normally they leave it lying on the counter, but today their message was propped up, as you see above.

Loud and clear. Even with his back to us, eating his dry Iams, Willie would like you to know what he’d prefer.

In running news: Dad-in-law Tony (who has run 12 marathons) would like to remind me that had he known I wasn’t training properly for the half-marathon, I would have received The Lecture, so whew! Close call! And he would also like to match up to a hundred dollars, like my dad did, so he’ll match the next hundred dollars that is donated to MMRF (see this post). So your $10 will be doubled…..

(I feel like I’m doing an NPR fundraiser. I am a bad person because I cannot STAND to listen to the NPR fundraising. I switch the public radio station to the disco station imMEDiately when I hear it. Although we do donate when we can.)

Man, yesterday’s 3-mile run SUCKED. I ran after work, so I wasn’t on the Bay — I was inland in the heat. I HATE the heat. I felt like a gazelle for approximately three steps, then I turned into a lumbering elephant and remained that way. A clodding overweight elephant, seventeen months pregnant.

But that was yesterday. Tomorrow will be better. I hope.

On a completely unrelated topic: You know a weird thing? I think my little mama left something behind when she died. And it’s a goofy thing.

Crossword puzzles. The ability to do them. And the desire.

I have NEVER been into crosswords. I admire them. They’re gorgeous, smart things. I loved the documentary Wordplay. Seeing Jon Stewart do the Sunday New York Times puzzle in pen was a heart-be-still moment. But I’ve never done them. Never wanted to.

Mom always had a puzzle at hand. And she could DO them.

Shortly after she died, I did a People magazine puzzle. Man, that thing was easy, except for the cultural references to rap stars and country songs that I just plain didn’t know and had to work around. But the fact that I’d wanted to do it surprised me.

Then I started doing a co-worker’s puzzle from her local paper. I could do most of it by myself and only looked up a couple of things online at the end.

Then I noticed her paper also carried the NYT puzzle, so I tried one of those. I tried a Sunday puzzle.

Um. No. I am smart, yes. But I am not that smart.

Or maybe it’s a combination of things: I am not that smart AND the smarts I do have don’t correspond to puzzle-smart. Even in these last couple of months of doing crosswords, I’ve noticed that some words pop up, over and over again. Ria. Who knew it was even a word, let alone a good puzzle word?

So I turned sadly to the Monday NYT puzzle, not expecting much. Suddenly I WAS A GENIUS. I find I really start to flag on Wednesday and I haven’t tried a Thursday or Friday, since I don’t see my co-worker that day.

But it’s just weird. This sudden compulsion to do crosswords. It wasn’t even an action of grief: I didn’t consciously remember Mom and her puzzles until I was wondering what the hell was up with me. Why was I suddenly into this?   

"Is it crazy to think I got that from her? Sudden-like?" I asked Lala. She said no, that after her first wife Aura died, Lala had inherited her ability to cook without a recipe. And I can vouch for how good Lala is at whipping something up from ingredients like mustard and kale and pimento-stuffed olives.

A strange little unexpected gift.

Also strange and unexpected, but not so little, Digit, drooling on me for your pleasure:

Good night, moon. Thank you, my friends, for such a response. Damn! We’ve already raised $1310 for the Multiple Myeloma Research Foundation. In just a few days! That came about from a bunch of $10 and $20 donations and a couple of whoppers. It’s amazing.

Really amazing. I find those words so small for all that I feel in my heart. You know?

Oh, and my dad left a comment saying that he’d match donations until he was up to a hundred bucks, and I think we have some slots for that left, so if you just want to give a little, he’ll double it….. Nice, eh? I thought so.

Oh! And Jennifer with Purl Soho has been a doll and volunteered to donate the yarn, so if you win (I hope you do!) you can go to the site and choose either Lorna’s Laces special custom colors yarn or Koigu KPPPM and then I’ll knit them up for you. Whatever color you like. Yep. I LOVE that.

You can DONATE here, if you’d like. And then you can hope I actually make 13.1 miles. I’m worried, folks. But I have hope. I did three miles the other day like I had wings underneath my feet. It helped that Clara was overexcited and pulling because there were groundhogs running in front of us. But it was a GREAT run.

I gotta say, though, even with a 3-miler, I got those same blisters. And ow! I haven’t bought the silk socks yet, but I’ve been using blister bandaids (the good kind) and BodyGlide. This is my strategy: To get blisters on my instep three times a week (they’re small enough that they heal in a day or two) until I have big ole happy impervious calluses. Yep. I hope I can build those in a month. Gonna try.

Meantime, in unrelated news, loving True Blood. OMG – SO GOOD. Loving it. Can it maintain the level of excellence it’s set up? Any ideas? (Haven’t seen this week’s episode, no spoilers, please.)

Well, now.

Remember two days ago when I thought I ran six miles? I’d used gmaps pedometer to map it out before I left, but I ended up getting a little lost (don’t ask — lost on a straight line), and I thought I made up for it while I was running. Nope. Instead of getting those big blisters on my insteps in return for running six miles, I got them for only running 4.8. Not even five miles. Dude. I was so disappointed when I found that out. And I walked a lot of it, too. And I was slow. And I’d even imagined I might have gone seven miles! Wrong.

I was discouraged.

Then I went to the Nike Marathon website. I was reminded that their official cause is Team in Training. This is awesome. They’re great.

Then I realized that on October 19th I would be surrounded by women running in purple shirts, all of whom had raised at least $2500 to go towards lymphoma, luekemia, and myeloma research.

Myeloma. What Mom died of three months ago.

And I realized I was jealous of those runners.

Me, months ago I put down my seventy dollars or whatever it was to register. I’d be wearing a plain tee-shirt and running, not helping anyone but myself and Nike (a whole ‘nother ball of guilt).

And that’s crap.

Let’s change that, shall we?

I need motivation to run, to keep training. I’m [thisclose] to copping out, to saying I can’t do it.

But If y’all are behind me, and I’m running to honor Mom and your belief in me and to do something good, I’ll be there. With bells on.

So what do you think? Another little raffle? I absolutely don’t care how much we raise together — I have no set goal that I need to reach in order to run. As much or as little as you feel moved to donate helps SO much. Really.

Every $10 donated gets you a chance at a pair of hand-knit socks. So fifty bucks gets you five chances. You donate straight to the Multiple Myeloma Research Foundation, LINK HERE. Then just send me an email with how many chances I should mark you down for.

On October 18th, I’ll draw a random name and that person will get to tell me what size and color she wants her socks. Then I’ll make them in a hurry and get them to her faster than I did to Carol who won Lala’s AIDS lifecycle sock-raffle. (Carol! They’re in the mail! Sorry! I hate the post office!)

On October 19th, I’ll run the half-marathon with you behind me.  This is a way to honor my little mama and help others (like Annie Modesitt’s husband Gerry) living with the disease.

And on October 19th, in thirty-seven days, I’ll run the half-marathon
as fast as I can (which will be pretty damn slow, I can assure you),
with pride. I’ll run with love.

 

Me and my book waiting for my pulled pork sandwich to be called at the Seabreeze Cafe. I have blisters. Ow. But I feel good and I have orange’n’cream Stewart’s soda so life is good.