- Pajama pants in public. This used to be a sign of clinical depression or homelessness; now it's a sign of...what? Casual ineptitude? Trendiness? I just don't know.
- Loose tea in a tea bag. I saw this at the airport. I hate to nitpick, but if it's in a tea bag, it's not loose tea any more. It's a tea bag. But this stuff says, "Loose tea experience - in a convenient tea bag!" All for $6.99.
A haiku, in honor of my mini-break weekend:
- Hot and sweaty place
- Sucks the life right outta me
- Damn, I hate Dallas.
Sweet Baboo is at a clinic to become a USAT racing official here in Dallas, and then will practice at the PrairieMan tomorrow. My daughter lives here, but so far contact has been a comedy of errors as she has somehow made her only phone non-operational, and left me one message referring constantly to "this number" as in "Just call me back at this number" without ever telling me what, "this number" was. She called while my cell phone was off, too, so there's no "this number" on my caller ID.
I went for a run this morning with Sweet Baboo out at Joe Pool lake, host to tomorrow's Prairie Man Half Iron Tri, which AndraSue is running in. There signs all over the park and around the lake about the event. The lady at the toll booth asked for $10 to get into the park. When we asked if people would be allowed to go in and drive the course, she said, "Prairie man? What's that? I don't know what that is."
I blurted out, "What? You've got signs all over the park!" and she repeated drily and without humor that she didn't know what that was and again asked for $10. VERY unlike Texas, where most people are at least sweet and apologetic when they take your money. Plus, I mean, if you went to work and there were signs all over the place advertising a major event, wouldn't you at some point say to a coworker, hey, what or who is "the Prairie Man?"
When I did my run, I remembered why I don't live in Dallas any more. Running? Fuggetaboutit. It never would have happened. My eight-mile run was awful. I was diappointed because I LOVE running at sea level; I feel all fast and stuff. But it was hot, and it was humid, and my heartrate would NOT COME DOWN. Ugh. So I was soaked, tired, and panting. Sweet Baboo said that means I'm still recovering fro IMLoo.
My hat is off to Greyhound and a host of other people who do their training in really humid places. Yikes. I've said before that I hate the feeling of sweat rolling down any part of me; I would do insane here. I'd have to have cotton balls tucked all over my body and sweat bands around the rest just to get away from it.
Before you get all excited and think, "mmm, sexy sweaty triathlete!" let me assure you that is not what I'm all about. Your imagination thinks this:
But in reality, it was more like this:
Later on we're going to have dinner with AndraSue, who is doing the Prairie Man tomorrow as her first half, and her baboo (notice the lower case; only my Sweet Baboo gets capitalized on my blog)