Realizing when it’s time to stop and take a deep whiff of this little thing called life
I move too fast. Maybe it’s the coffee, my obsessive compulsive tendencies, or the fact that I have the attention span of a toddler with a room full of objects to taste, but I feel like I’m always running through the forest, missing out on experiencing each tree.
Take dinner tonight, for example. We were having In N Out burger because the I-10 was a nightmare (as is tradition), and I only made it in time to pick up my daughter from her afterschool program because Apple Maps found a route that took me through a residential neighborhood and around the airport. Continue reading
Long runs are the worst
Early seven miles –
I lurch atop heavy legs
until nighttime falls.
A few hours with the iPhone SE
As much as I like to think I’m a minimalist – the kind of person who lives with only the most bare essential possessions – I’m really not. I mean, I own no less than three Raspberry Pi microcomputers, a Chromecast I haven’t used in almost a year (because it’s pretty useless) an Apple TV and an iPad Pro.
Frankly, I just have a lot of stuff. But one thing I have been good about is only replacing those objects when they break. Case in point: the iPhone 5 I’ve owned, in one form or another, for over four years. When the first one kicked the bucket a little over a year ago because of a swollen battery and failing home button, the Apple Store tech offered me an out-of-warranty replacement for $60. And I’ve been using that one until today. Continue reading
The kind kids get in the arm
Through a stream of tears
Nadia counts down from ten.
It’s over at two.
And other predictable things that happened on Game of Thrones
Over the course of nearly 80 minutes, Game of Thrones moved toward its end game with a list of twists so utterly obvious to anyone paying the bare minimum amount of attention that I had to go back to a previous recap to check and see if I got them all.
I hesitate to say, “Call me Kobe,” because Black Mamba was known for taking impossible shots, and these were rather easy. So maybe just call me “Kevin Durant wide open at the top of the key:” Continue reading
Or what I’m guessing he was thinking as he stepped into the ring, since I’m not, you know, a mind reader
Conor McGregor lost, but he’s not a loser. Let’s get that out of the way. I mean, any guy who can do this to a reigning champion is a winner in my book. Let’s also not forget the fact that McGregor got anywhere between $30-100 million for going 10 rounds against one of the greatest boxers in the world, Floyd Mayweather, jr. So, you know, boo hoo. I’m sure both guys sleep on piles of money.
But why did McGregor get in the ring in the first place – besides the money, and the opportunity to hand Mayweather his first loss? Continue reading
Oh ah ah cough cough
Maybe it’s because I have such a terrible memory – oh, who am I kidding, it’s definitely because of that – but the worst thing about feeling under the weather, for me, is seemingly forgetting what it’s like to be healthy. Coughing once is no big deal. But when I put on repeat performances, over the course of an entire day, my mind resigns itself to the new normal.
So, fine. This is my life now – unless I can send this scratchy, mucus-filled throat thing packing with a steady stream of orange juice and scorn. I mean, I have plans, and I can’t let this thing tear them apart. There’s baking to do, beer to drink and board games to play, man. Real adult stuff.
Also, there’s that whole Game of Thrones finale thing happening this weekend, and watching TV while vegetating on the couch is pretty much what people do when they’re sick. Another option is the Mayweather-McGregor fight. I’m not going to order pay-per-view – let’s not get crazy here – but I may catch the highlights on YouTube.
Then again, if it’s anything like the Mayweather-Pacquiao fight, it might just make me sicker.
It seems counterintuitive, but one of the things I’ve noticed since I’ve started running again is that my mood has improved. When I sleep in, I feel groggier than I do when I get out of bed at 4:30AM, which sounds kind of crazy as I’m typing it out. But it’s true. And grogginess leads to grumpiness. Grumpiness leads to anger. You get the deal.
But, in a strange way, it makes sense. Coming off that runner’s high after a seven-mile run (or longer), I’m exhausted but content. I still long for that cup of black coffee, sure, but I’m no longer that Shadi who cannot deal with a million questions from my oldest daughter, her struggle to pick out clothes or her inability to shovel food in her mouth because said mouth is talking a mile a minute.
Those things are still frustrating, but exercise puts me in a place where I can internalize that frustration. And that’s good for pretty much everyone in my immediate vicinity.
Raindrops keep falling on my head
Thick soup of rain clouds
clapping like so many hands
in a crowded hall.
He came, and, with little effort, we survived.
President Trump is probably the only septuagenarian who comes to Phoenix in the summer. Though there was a lot of hubbub about the rationale for his visit and the impact it would have on the surrounding schools and businesses, in the end not much came of it.
I had already planned to leave work early since childcare at my daughter’s school was being cut by one hour. But I left even earlier to account for traffic. Aside from a tense five-minute period in which not a single car on the I-10 was moving (due to a disabled vehicle) the trip into dowtown Phoenix was relatively easy.
The city had done most of the heavy lifting by sending government workers home early, and many businesses did the same. Downtown was a ghost town. The ride home was a non-issue because I was fleeing the madness, not riding headlong into it. I’m not sure what I expected, but I’m glad the city didn’t descend into chaos and protests.