Before I begin, I’d like to let everyone know that the very pretty Shelley is holding a contest called She’s Funny That Way. The winner will receive a copy of Shelley’s book and so you should go read all about it and enter and all of that good stuff. Okay? Okay!

Besides, we all know someone funny we can write about. Except me. All I can write about at the moment is that I am old and stupid. And not a yak.

Today was GORGEOUS outside. It was sunny and mild and just the sort of day when I don’t even a little bit want to stick my head in the oven because I’m convinced that winter will never end. It was SO beautiful out, I decided to GO FOR A WALK.

You know, because I’m training for sort of a long walk?

And I’ve BEEN training, you know. But the thing is, the weather has been pretty miserable. And so I’ve mostly been training on my elliptical trainer. While watching cooking shows on the Food Network. (That last part isn’t really germaine to the point I’m headed towards; I just thought you’d like to know.) Now, my elliptical trainer has the advantages of being 1) a better cardio workout than plain ol’ walking, 2) in a temperature-controlled environment, and 3) in front of the television. These are all Great Things. But in terms of training for 60 miles on uneven roads, it comes up sorely lacking in one very important way: It does not prepare the rider (me) for actual conditions (ow).

I suited up this morning and headed out and quickly discovered that I have the ankles of an 80-pound weakling. Walking along the road on sloping shoulders, halfway on asphalt and half on sandy soil, is not, it turns out, AT ALL LIKE keeping my feet flat on the pedals of my elliptical trainer. Go figure! And my right ankle was Not Happy.

There I was in my nice new sneakers, properly outfitted (wicking socks! body glide powder to prevent chafing! full water bottle! motivational tunes!), tromping along the roads of my little town, desperately wishing that I was some sort of mountain goat with better hill traction. But I perservered! I did that whole thing where I would periodically stop and stretch, which allowed me to keep going without feeling like a complete idiot for pushing myself.

About halfway through my walk a woman in a small yellow car drove up next to me and asked for directions. I was annoyed with her because she interrupted Particle Man, but also because I am lousy at giving directions under the best of circumstances. These were NOT the best of circumstances; she didn’t seem entirely sure where she was headed.

Her: Can you tell me how to get to Really Long Street?
Me: Sure, where ya headed?
Her: To Really Long Street. In SmallTown.
Me: Right. Um. You’re already in SmallTown. The thing is? Really Long Street is… really long. The way I send you will depend on WHERE on Really Long Street you want to go.
Her: Oh. Well, I want Route Also Long. In SmallTown.
Me: Okay, I can tell you how to get to that intersection. Keep going up this way, then hang a right on Unremarkable Street and it actually comes right out onto Route Also Long, about a block down from Really Long Street.
Her: In SmallTown?
Me: Yes…?
Her: Thank you!
Me: Sure.

It occurred to me after she drove away that I’d sent her the longest possible way. I wasn’t all that sorry.

After that encounter I started looping off onto side streets to avoid anyone else asking me anything out on the main road. Eventually my ankle stopped whining and by the time I made it back home, about 7.5 miles later, I felt pretty good. I am woman, hear me… walk! Just don’t ask me for directions!

It wasn’t until about six hours AFTER my walk that I realized two things:
1) My right ankle feels fine now.
2) My left knee hurts like a mofo.

I’m sure there’s some physiologically reasonable explanation for why this may be, but I’ve decided to blame the woman in the yellow car.

Now I am icing my knee and making a voodoo doll of the directions lady. Oops! Didn’t mean to say that last part out loud!

To take my mind off of my crumbling body, I watched a fine, fine piece of cinematography this evening. Actually, TD&H came over with a stack of DVDs and made me pick one, and in my continuing quest to select a movie he hasn’t seen before, I chose High Tension, the only one he had with him that he hadn’t yet viewed.

I don’t want to ruin the movie for you, but I’m not convinced it’s ruinable given that it already sucks. So. If you like bad dialog, worse dubbing (which occasionally switches to subtitles, instead, just for fun), a lot of blood and gore, and plot holes big enough to drive a truck through, THIS IS THE MOVIE FOR YOU! Run out and buy it immediately!

I alternated between declaring “This is EVEN SCARIER because it’s EEEEN FRAAAAANCH!” and “You paid actual money for this movie.” TD&H was remarkably patient considering that–I’m just guessing–this was most likely beyond annoying after the third or fourth time. Although still not quite as annoying as our FRAAANCH heroine who became progressively more blood-spattered while not even a little bit more likeable.

Tomorrow I think I’m going back to my elliptical, and also the Food Network.