Define “Productive”

I once read that author Jonathan Franzen writes on a computer that he has manually disabled from receiving an internet connection.

This. Is. Genius.

Since getting a solid connection again here at the house last Thursday, all writing has stopped and the falling down a wormhole of random internet searches has begun. Did you know, for instance, that the 5th brightest supernova visible in over 110 years can be seen by amateur astronomers with piddly backyard telescopes for the next several days? Yep. After that it will then fade and be left to professional astronomers with NASA grade equipment. Who wishes she had a telescope right now? ==>This girl.<== How amazing to watch something that happened 21 million years ago.

What I’d originally been searching for was the duration of NPR’s Fall fundraising campaign. Still don’t know. And I’m not going back to the evil evil internet at-large to find out for fear of falling in. Although maybe there’s a sale somewhere on telescopes and overnight shipping…
(Irony appreciation – this post exists. Obviously I got sucked back in).

This morning’s run was unproductive. I walked to the edge of the neighborhood and stood on the great divide between home base and the infinite beyond. Once at that precipice, the commitment to a run has been made. The run is happening.

Here’s how it went:

Right foot

Left foo-OW

Right foot


Right foot


Right foot

Left fo-PAIN

Right foot

Left fo-PAIN

And then my bangs were all like *woosh*,‘member us?

I shook my head to toss them aside, but they came swarming right back to form an annoyingly effective blockade.

Thought you could quell our rebellion with a couple of plebian bobby-pins? Tame our feral ways with a headband? Lacquer us with hairspray and expect us to submit? NEVER! We are guerrilla warriors, mwah!

I ran for maybe another quarter of a mile with the dog leashes in one hand and my other holding the bangs back, in pain at every other step from an enormous multi-colored and knotty bruise on my left leg before waving the white flag. I may just shave my head. And amputate the left leg.

In happier news, I legitimately seem to have lost weight. The scale may occasionally lie, boys will always lie, but blue jeans will never ever lie about your weight. And this past weekend I stuffed myself into a pair that haven’t fit in ages. Some would argue that they perhaps still don’t fit, but whatever. They zipped up and the button didn’t go zinging off into the cosmos when I sat down.


2 thoughts on “Define “Productive”

  1. Zeldon says:

    Mud run next weekend at Wintergreen. That should hold those bangs in place.

  2. Jen says:

    What that’s going to do is kill me. Making the bangs and leg a moot complaint.

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