Is there anything less fun than buying tires? Well yes, there is, but that still doesn't make tire shopping something I look forward to doing. My car needs tires and winter is coming, so it's just something I have to do. But spending $500 should get you more satisfaction (resisted the temptation for a lame Rolling Stones reference here). If you buy a new TV or laptop or even a sofa and you can at least show it off. But tires? "Hey, look at what I bought... new tires! Let me tell you about all the great features like, well... hmmm. I guess they're just like the old ones, except not quite as worn." If you do need to buy tires, I suggest you go to The Tire Rack. The prices are very good, and you if don't like to buy online you can use it as a reference to make sure you're not being gouged by your local dealer.

Well, I have a cold. Not the flu or anything, just a common cold. My symptoms aren't all that common, though. Whenever I get a cold, my nose becomes hypersensitive to smell, which is the exact opposite of what used to happen. It's very strange to be able to smell everything... ink on a newspaper, dish detergent on a glass that has gone though the dishwasher, wet dog... well, that one I could smell from a mile away right now (sorry Jaz). Oh, and my voice goes away, much to the delight of those tired of listening to me. ;-) So I'm here spending my time alternating between drinking grapefruit juice and ginger ale (which I've discovered does contain ginger, despite it not showing up in the ingredients on the side of the bottle). That's all I can drink - water and other beverages just seem disgusting to me when I have a cold. Fortunately, eating is another matter; my appetite is strong and food is still tasty. Despite that plus, I must admit to being a big baby when I'm sick. I'm quiet and just want to sit still watching my favorite movie until I get better.

The night before my birthday, I was letting Jazzy outside for her evening trip to the outhouse, when she bolted toward the bushes in the back of the yard before scurrying back in obvious discomfort. By the time she came back to me I could already smell what was wrong... she had been skunked. I then had run to the pharmacy (thank you CVS for being open all night) for the ingredients to deskunk her. Fortunately, the procedure was succesful, and my fear that the peroxide would bleach her was unfounded.

Since then, however, I am careful to look outside for anything Jaz might want to chase. I turn on the spotlights and take a look before opening the door. Jazzy seems to have learned from the experience as well, as she carefully steps outside and sniffs the air before venturing out.
A week or so ago, as I looked outside, I saw a pathetic looking creature slowly walking in the back yard. It was a possum, and I watched it to see what it was doing, figuring it was trying to find food or something. Oddly, it didn't seem to be doing much of anything - it stopped in the middle of the yard and just layed there. Not wanting Jazzy to harm it, I opened the door and clapped my hands to scare it away. It turned towards me, hissed and made a face much like the photo above (which I borrowed from the Wikipedia entry for the animal) and then awkwardly ran away.

My initial reaction to the creature is that it has little going for it; they're slow, ugly (ever seen a possum teddy bear?), and not terribly fearsome. But it turns out that's not really true. Possums are the only North American marsupial, are nearly immune to rabies, have prehensile tails, and can of course play possum.

Do you know anyone that really likes to run? I mean, the type of runner that is out there every day no matter what, even in the middle of winter. The type who dreams of running a marathon (or already has) and whose favorite athlete is from Kenya. Well, I'm definitely NOT like that. I run exactly one race per year, and can't honestly say that I enjoy either my rather minimal training or running the race. In fact, it's more like torture than any sort of pleasure. But every year, I get the call to run as part of a relay at the Mystic Places Marathon and I gladly agree to give it a go. Then I go to the closet to find my hibernating sneakers... they literally spend 11 months a year idle. And they're so old I don't even remember when I bought them. But due to their relatively low mileage they're still in good shape. I figure I'll need to buy another pair around 2011, and even that will probably be due to material decay and not wear.
This year, my poorer cardiovascular starting point combined with a week of rain to keep my pace slower than I would have liked. I was once a decent cross country and track runner, but that was many eons and pounds ago. However, my team, the dubiously name Foxwoods Flashers, won our relay group handily. Of course, that is because we entered the Mixed Clydesdales division and the only other team entered was our sister team. And don't ask me what Mixed Clydesdales is supposed to mean - I'm just glad the Budweiser horses were too busy to compete. And my sneakers are glad to get back to sleeping in the closet.

This past weekend, for the first time in my life, I held a yard sale. And I must admit it was really fun. Well, the actual day of the sale was fun - the gathering and moving of stuff the week before the sale was about as much fun shoveling snow, but with less job satisfaction. A yard sale is a really interesting concept, where you're basically saying "come give me money for this junk that I don't want, and haul it away for free too." But it does seem to be a win-win for everyone involved. I got rid of much of my junk and made some extra cash, and the buyers seemed genuinely pleased to have the stuff and appreciated my low, low pricing. Most of them didn't even bargain. Of course, it helped that everyone was happy as we all enjoyed a beautiful sunny Saturday in November- I was even wearing shorts and a T-shirt because it was so warm. Even though my house is basically in the middle of nowhere, I had six or seven cars there at a time in the morning busy hours. And of course, there was the "early bird" who was "just passing by" and notice us setting up before the advertised time. Now, there is no one - I repeat, no one, that is "just passing by" on my road at 7:30 a.m. on a Saturday. But I smiled and gladly accepted a few bucks for a VHS copy of One Million years B.C. (which I must have bought because of my long-time love of dinosaurs and certainly not because of a young Rachel Welch) and some other small items. By the end of the day, most of my quality merchandise had been sold, and the few larger items were carried out to the end of the driveway and adorned with "free" signs in the hopes that someone will be "just passing by" and take them away.