No, I didn’t forget to post. I just did it earlier today (well, yesterday as it’s past midnight) elsewhere. If I had more time, I would have written a shorter letter.

Read my nattering on over at my job’s blog here.

Weekend is over.

With all of my thinking and listening to Dar Williams over the past few days, I wanted to share one of my favorites. This live recording of her song “February” gives you a snippet of her charming patter between songs.

When I first heard this song, I loved it for the storytelling, never imagining its ache would one day echo mine. (Ah, hindsight, and foolish youth.) Not a traditional love song, not a break-up song despite it being the subject, just a love-lost song with simple, painful metaphors that hit me like a truck. This is one of the reasons I earned my nickname at her shows of Sobbing Queer Boy.

Even if you aren’t in the Northeast and digging out of the snowstorm, here’s to warmth and surviving the longest-shortest, darkest and coldest month called February. Spring will come.

(edited to add the video of the song “February“)

No post yesterday, as I was doing this last night—celebrating a smarty pants, neato knitter, mighty huntress, rigid coach, flexible athlete, hungry eater and close friend.

Another night bites the dust. And I have nothing to show for it. I noticed that I was really in the mood to work on my knitting tonight. Then I fell asleep before heading up to bed. So much for reading before hitting the hay. Whine, whine, whine.

Alas, I should have written tonight about shooting a scene for the Bike Snob video this morning, may even posting one of his previous book trailers, but there’s no time or desire to make that happen. When it’s done I’ll make sure to post it. Suffice to say, I haven’t worn that much spandex in a long, long time. Pretending to be a roadie was plain silly, knowing how often I ride more than two miles at a given time. I’m much more of an urban cyclist these days. A casual commuter. Where’s my Public Bikes bike?

I need to accept that I only really have time to do one thing a day. The way I have structured my life lately, I wake up, perhaps run, work, eat dinner and then go to bed. My runs are the one piece of additional activity I’ve odds on the past eight months. If I had my druthers, I’d stay in bed with the doggies longer, but, clearly, that’s not a well-rounded life.

The almost-midnight typing into this phone don’t count as writing. There’s rarely time set aside for reading. And I can’t remember how many days it’s been since I knit. What about being social, writing letters, responding to personal email, cooking, meditation, drawing and yoga? I need to track down (hunt and kill) more time to do more important things.

I’m not much of a mix-tape maker. Same goes with playlists. I feel a responsibility to listen to albums in their entirety. You know, as the artist intended and to prove my devotion. (As if they would know in what order I consume their craft.) I don’t mingle with single jingles.

I was recently asked to make a list of songs by one of my favorite artists for a friend’s birthday. Perhaps your heard of her (the artist, not my friend)?

Here’s a mini-setlist for Dar Williams were she to play for your happy day:

• When I Was a Boy
• You’re Aging Well
• Midnight Radio (cover from Hedwig and the Angry Inch)
• What Do You Hear in these Sounds
• It’s Alright
• Better Things
• As Cool as I Am
• The Babysitter’s Here

There are plenty of other amazing songs (February, The Ocean, The Great Unknown, Iowa), but, if it were my birthday, I maybe wouldn’t want to be sobbing. (Dar has had that effect on me.)

So use your favorite music consumption vehicle (YouTube, Spotify, iTunes) and have yourself an upbeat little birthday party with Dar.

As in I have too little to say anything here and it’s far too late to make something up.

Plus I’m grumpy.

Staring at a phone screen at emails that can wait until tomorrow does not make my life richer. Boundaries wanted.

Surprise scamper buddy for SF half today: Tara. We broke 2 hours, running every step together. I hadn’t done today’s race since 2003, and I probably haven’t run with Tara for equally as long, if not longer. I truly miss working at Clif Bar. I am fortunate for so many wonderful friendships and memories from my nine years there. It made me who I am today. Getting to revisit it and catch up with a friend as we scampered made today feel more like hanging out than an effort. It also underscored my belief that a half marathon is a sensible, yet significant enough distance to have in one’s life.

More runs like that, please.

Scampering a half-marathon tomorrow. A swim teammate of C’s enjoys fishing and crabbing, only he’s allergic to shellfish. Lucky for us he’s not selfish with his crustaceans.