She's Going The Distance.
Monday, Mar. 17, 2003 @ 3:22 p.m.

Weekend.

I had a pretty good weekend. Saturday morning I did a short mountain bike ride on a local trail with Kenny, then had a great lunch with Kate and did a wee bit of shopping. I bought a shell and cardigan at The Limited that I'd been eyeing since January. It finally ended up on the sale rack so I rescued it and brought it home. Yay.

Saturday night I made this Spring Stir Fry, but I used tuna steak instead of chicken. I think it would work well with tofu too. Very easy and damn tasty.

Kenny and I rented two movies- Harvard Man and Tuck Everlasting. Harvard Man was better than I was expecting it to be, but it's not one that I'll remember or rave about. A couple of the drug-induced scenes were really funny, but mostly it was just average. Tuck Everlasting was nicely done. I'm a little protective of my favorite books from childhood being made into movies (don't get me started on the film travesty that was Harriet the Spy), but I think they did a good job. It was a nice story, beautifully filmed, and they didn't screw around too much with the details.

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Boring Bike Race Rehash.

Sunday, Kenny and I did another training series mountain bike race and I came in first or second, depending on how you look at it. Basically, one of the women in my class (Beginner) was actually an Expert (two levels above Beginner and one level below Pro) and was just racing in the Beginner class for the practice.

The thing is, I didn't *know* she was an Expert and I spent the first 1/4 of the race chasing her ass. So, I came in second, but I was actually first place in my class, if that makes sense. It doesn't really matter anyway, as it was only a training race.

The race laps were 5 miles each (singletrack in the woods and some fields) and I did three laps. I was going to just do two, but somehow my bike wouldn't stop so I just kept going and did the third lap. Did I mention it was raining? Very slippery. Tree roots go all slimy when it rains and so do wooden bridges. I have a few well-placed bruises to prove it. Ha. And also, Ow.

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St. Patrick�s Day.

Not a big fan. I'm not against it, I just don't much get into it. I'm sure I have a goodly amount of Irish blood in me, but I just don't see myself drinking green beer in a "pub" on a school night. I also don't do the wearing of green thing, especially since many, many people here in the loan center do. I also don't like parades.

I'm just not much of a joiner and if I know that everyone's going to do something, it makes me ornery and stubborn and I'm likely to do the opposite thing. I'm a bad sport, for real. I'll never wear green on St. Patrick's Day and I'll never wear red on Valentine's Day and you better get the hell away from me with that Christmas bell necklace.

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The Itch Factor.

Grah! I'm wearing a sweater that shouldn't be itchy, but is. Silk, check. Cashmere, check. Acrylic, check. All non-itchy, right? Right, but somehow, wrong. I even X-Actoed the labels out so they wouldn't itch my neck. I have itch issues. It must be the cashmere. If it was quality, it wouldn't itch. I think maybe they used the really scruffy goats to make this sweater. They used the goats who ran away, ate twine and thistles, and then returned home all gnarled and wiry. Damn goats.

Kenny is a little mystified by my high itch factor. He understands, I think, why I obsessively slice out every label from every shirt I own. (Which causes a problem when you want to wash something, but aren't sure if you're supposed to. Hand wash? Dry clean only? Cold water wash? Who knows?) I have to remove the Tags of Torture, especially the ones sewn in with that clear plastic fishing line. Holy crap, that shit itches.

But I think Kenny worries that I'm moving to Obsessiveburg when he sees me take off one cotton shirt and put on another that's almost identical. I had to point out that one was softer than the other. One was slightly rough, the other not so rough. Much better. These things matter to me.

And wool? don't get me going on wool. Once I bought a sleeveless turtleneck from Old Navy, not realizing it had wool in it. I wore it for one hellish day of itch, and when I got home, peeled that hair shirt off and threw it away immediately. I couldn't even consider donating that shirt of torture. *Shudder*

I can wear wool only if there's an entire other layer of non-itchy material between it an my skin. The wool cannot touch my neck, so wool turtleneck sweaters are forever out of the question. Wool pants must be fully lined before being considered. Even then, probably no. Luckily I don't live in a cold place, or I'd be screwed. Cotton is indeed the fabric of my life.

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Thank God, a kindred spirit. It's not just me taking an X-Atco to my clothes.

Or maybe I'm just a Sensitive Child. I can totally feel the seams in my socks. I have to wear them inside out.

A carp shouts apocalyptic warnings in Hebrew.

Uh, and a jar of gefilte fish has something to say as well.

0 chatty monkeys

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