Even when trying to compliment someone, I have no tact.

Today, at the Toil of Tears team fundraising event, Katie worked at one of the worst tasks I had listed: removing the wallpaper from the kitchen walls. Kevin commented that removing the wallpaper from the kitchen was horribly difficult, as he tried when he worked for me last summer. I can't stand painting over wallpaper (or painting over wallpaper over paint over wallpaper over wallpaper over paint over wallpaper), so off it needed to come.

And Katie went to it with gusto, removing over half the wallpaper by the time she was done.

At the end of the day, when she and Keith and Danger were getting ready to leave, I thanked her for all her help, then commented to Kris, "Katie did the crappiest job."

I wanted to die right then. Instead, I made things worse.

"Uh, I mean she did the worst job ever."

Crap!

"That's not what I meant. I meant the job she did was really bad."

Argh!

"The task she chose to do sucks. It's a horrible task. She did it spectacularly, but it was a crappy task. Yes, that's what I'm trying to say."

Sigh.

Worst compliment I have ever given.

Kris was working late tonight, so I wandered over to Mike's for pizza. We watched a tivo'd version of Hustle that he had, ate pizza and lounged around with Mike and Maeryn. During most of the show, Maeryn was holding onto the edge of the couch and walking back and forth along it, demonstrating she knew how to walk, she just chose not to demonstrate such talents to the giants known as not-Mom.

At one point, she was at the end of the couch where Mike's feet were. She reached up, grabbed his foot, and shoved one of his big toes into her mouth.

I exclaimed, "Ewwww! She has your toe in her mouth!"

Mike looked down, and casually commented, "Yeah, she does that someti... YEH-OWWWWWW!"

Uh huh. She does that sometimes, eh? Does she always chomp down, too?

When I updated this site to the latest Drupal code base, I managed to fix various administration problems with the site. The number one problem I've had and didn't know I had (clearly the best problem to have) is with comments. I had about 20 comments in the "approval queue" (wtf?), and didn't realize it.

They're all approved, and now, my five six (six! Megan!) readers (Hi Mom, Roshan, Mike, Kris, Megan and Heather!), you can comment again. Whoo!

If I ever port my blog theme to Drupal 4.7, I'll move the site back to its original location so that it's public again. Maybe. If.

Went running at the Stanford dish tonight. In my infinite wisdom, instead of running with my car key, I decided to throw all of my stuff into the car trunk, and run with my clicker. I convinced Kris to do the same, and off we went.

When we arrived back at the cars (one seriously cramped hamstring later), I pulled the clicker from out of my sportsbra (ah, yes, the perfect place to carry all your important items without worry of losing them as they bounce out of a pocket, or jostle out of a sock, only to be lost along your trail forever), and pressed the open-trunk button.

Nothing happened.

I pressed the open-door button.

Nothing happened.

I fiddled with the clicker with little success, then asked Kris for a nickel to open the back. When I opened the back of the clicker, I realized the folly of the sportsbra storage unit when used with small electronics.

The insides were all wet, and the battery connectors completely corroded.

Yay, sweat!

After unsuccessfully cleaning the connectors, but before everyone else in our group left, as the only working cell phone between Kris and me was safely locked in my car trunk, I asked him to call AAA, being once again thankful that he insists on being a AAA member for incidents just like this one. I have my Honda Roadside service, also, but its number was, once again, safely locked up in the car.

Kris called, and I gave up on the clicker, handing it to him.

True to the "five meeeenuts!" it takes him to solve any problem I have, he opened the clicker, dried off the rest of the electronics that I had managed to completely soak on my run, reassembled the clicker, and pressed the open-trunk button.

*clunk!*

The trunk opened, and I was once again able to get into my car. I told him next time, we should put the other's car key into our trunks. That way, if Kris is locked out of his car, I can open my trunk, get his key, which he can unlock his door, pop the trunk and get my key, and vice versa.

Unless both clickers die. Then we're in trouble.

Just after college, I lived with John Schmidt and his brother Dave in a one bedroom apartment. I did warn that I have lots of John stories.

We would go running most evenings, through the rolling hills of the streets of Monrovia. John would hold back and run my pace with me, I would try running faster so that he wouldn't be bored. He'd often run ahead when we were out of the "bad" parts of town, ones that really weren't so bad.

Most times, my times would improve. Not always, but most times. One evening, having run harder than I had before, I asked in exasperation, "Does this ever get any easier?!?" John laughed, and said, "It doesn't."

"It doesn't get any easier, because you're always pushing yourself. Running slower becomes easier, but running hard never does."

I kept wondering if this running would become easier, as I ran from home to track practice, which was only 2.7 miles away, but I was trying to get there before Kris caught up to me. He let me start before he started running and Heather started rollerblading to the high school. I didn't run the whole way there, but had to stop at various lights, and walked for a few dozen yards after the light. I managed to make it to the school before Kris, but not before Heather, who passed me about a quarter mile from the school, but slowed to let me keep up.

I wondered the same thing as I ran the 3 sets of plyos Doyle planned, and the 3 200 yard sprints that weren't so sprint-like when I ran them. Does this ever get any easier? Does the cotton clear from my legs so that I can concentrate on ultimate instead of how tired I am?

Does it ever get any easier? Does life ever get any easier?

I'd have to say, if I'm pushing myself, no, it never will.

And that's okay.