Crumbs

The most recent piece of spam I received was from someone trying to sell me 11 acres of land in Puerto Rico. "This is a must see with priceless views at day or night!"A 9-year-old picture was attached. This slice of tropical heaven could be mine for $45,000! I'll get right on that.

Last Saturday the Engineer and I ran the Holiday Hustle 5K in Dexter, an easy 12-minute drive from my place. Even better, the race started at 4:30 PM, so there was no oh-dark-thirty wakeup and waiting in my cold kitchen for coffee to brew. I saw a bunch of runner-friends and enjoyed the very un-December-like temperature of 59 degrees. In past years I have run this race while bundled up from head to toe, dodging ice, and being snowed on, so being able wear cropped tights and a short-sleeved shirt was a welcome change. I didn't run as fast on Saturday as I did four years ago, however, finishing in 28:35 (9:13/mile average).

Yesterday the Redhead and I returned to Lillie Park for a lunchtime run. We managed 3.5 miles and I returned to work reinvigorated for the rest of the afternoon. I need our midday runs to keep me motivated as my running frequency has dwindled, I have no goal race on the horizon (until possibly the Running Fit Trail Half Marathon at the end of April), and it's depressingly dark and cold in the mornings.

As an erstwhile vocalist for my company's pickup band, I agreed to perform a few songs for our holiday hoopla on December 18. My choice of song material was restricted to "pop" Christmas songs, as in, things than lean secular with no overtly religious references. However, I'm sneaking in some classical music in the form of the traditional carol "Noël nouvelet," which I will sing both in French and with my "opera voice." Gotta bring a little class to this joint!

Tomorrow afternoon in Dearborn my hashing kennel is gathering to bid farewell to one of our own. He's leaving the area and will lay trail for us one last time. It was at a hash in late June hared by the same person that I rescued my little trash pile kitten, Melvin. I named him for the city of Melvindale, which is where I found him, dirty, starving, and scrounging around in a discarded heap of household goods. I took that pathetic fleabag kitten home with me and now, over five months later, he looks like this:

My sweet baby. He loves me so much.