'Cuz baby, it's cold outside

We've confirmed around the Internet that it's cold in Northern California right now, and we're not happy about it. So, while we bundle up and try to be happy in old, drafty buildings, I present Summer, the 2009 edition:

Rest day recap, or, how I failed to account for winter

San Francisco is having a cold snap. A cold-enough-to-snow snap. Seriously. This morning there was snow on the hills at low elevation. I may have grown up in New York, but my blood has thinned and my West Coast-acclimated body can't really handle the cold. And on Saturday I had to walk eight miles in it. But at least it wasn't raining.

I walked hard this weekend, but I really failed to warm up until the last 1.5 uphill miles. I sniffled and shivered a little and wished I'd worn gloves. And I battled a headwind. Both ways. But the skies were pretty clear and the sun shining over the Headlands was really beautiful. 

Now that I'm recovered from my cold, and approaching the two-month mark until the half marathon, I wonder if I may have overestimated winter. The rain forecast for the next week means I'll probably do most of my workouts at the end of the day, in the dark, instead of on my lunch hour. And I'll be pretty waterlogged by the time I leave for NY next weekend. And when I get there, it'll probably snow. Just as I'm ready to try my first double digit mile walk. And the chances of a storm on race day are pretty good. When I did the 5K portion of this race in 2008, it even hailed a little.

So I've pulled out all my cold weather gear, and I'm ready for the elements. My only real concern is my glasses. I need them to see, and without contacts, I wear them all the time. And it's hard to see through them if I'm being pelted with rain. My sister suggested I wear my swim goggles, and it's a good idea. But I'm thinking I may try to track down a snorkel mask and wear it over my glasses. I've been thinking about buying snorkel gear for my trip to Hawaii, and this way I'll really get my money's worth.

In the parking wars, apparently orthodontists have the upper hand

I was less than two blocks from home when I saw the police car cruise down my street. In my new neighborhood this is a little unusual, so I took notice. And then I saw the cop. Standing in my doorway. Trying to work my building's intercom system. It was dark out, and this was a little disconcerting.

I could hear her walkie talkie before I actually saw her, and the static only partially disguised the voices. It sounded like she was communicating with somebody about a domestic dispute. And then she saw me.

"Are you coming in?" she asked as I grabbed my keys to open the mailbox. "Do you know the people in apartments four and eight? I have to tow their cars."

Now, parking in my neighborhood is rough, and the parking enforcement unit is pretty harsh. The officers will stand at the top of the hill and, as soon as the meters on the block expire or street cleaning hours go into effect, will walk down the street doling out $175 tickets like mini-sausage samples at Costco. In a city with 20,000 parking spots for 40,000 cars, the parking wars are ugly.

But this woman was standing at my front door. Trying to track down my neighbors before their cars disappeared.

I asked her a little more about her visit: there were a bunch of spots on the next block that were temporarily a no stopping zone, and two of my neighbors' cars were parked there. The tow truck was 20 minutes away, and she couldn't reach either neighbor through our intercom system.

Her story sounded legitimate. She was in uniform and wearing a badge and was probably not trying to get into the building to kill and rob us, so I let her in. The woman in apartment four is my neighbor, and we roused her from a nap with a little bit of pounding. She grabbed her keys and ran down the stairs, and returned having saved her car.

The couple in number eight were a little trickier. The vehicle that needed to be moved was his motorcycle. But she was the only one home and didn't have a motorcycle license. And he had the keys. So, while on the phone with him, she went to stand by his bike, hoping she could pursuade the tow truck operator to wait for her boyfriend.

While the folks in number eight were on the phone, I asked about an occasion that would wipe out a block's worth of parking. Apparently, a group of orthodontists were having their annual holiday party. And they reserved the spots near the restaurant. The fact that anybody other than a construction crew could do this was news to me, but the officer said that as long as the reserved spots weren't otherwise in use - I think she meant in a hospital or school zone - anybody could reserve them. The fees are probably really helpful to this cash-strapped city, but the execution in this case was questionable. The No Stopping signs are supposed to be posted 72 hours before the event. Both neighbors parked there less than 48 hours before Friday evening, and both say there were no signs.

But, accurate signage or not, nobody's car got towed on Friday. And I'm pretty sure my assistance to the neighbor in number four negates our first meeting - when, at 1:15 am, she knocked on my door wearing pajamas, asking me and a couple of late night guests to be quiet because she was trying to sleep.

Notre Dame at Stanford

Things didn't go to well for the Fighting Irish last weekend, but the game was fun, and the tailgate was epic. It made me briefly consider a PhD, just to go to a school with a football team. But that fleeting thought was halted by my realization that I'd be unable to go to the football games because I'd be too busy working. So I'll continue to root for teams with which I have no affiliation.

From ID to throat lozenges

After my peculiar Thanksgiving day shopping trip, I got sick. I know one had nothing to do with the other, but I've been under the weather since Friday, so I didn't get out much this weekend. Today I wanted something for dinner that was unrelated to turkey, so I walked down the street to my local, and very expensive, Italian specialty foods store.

This place is usually worth the expense. They make all their pastas, the deli selection of quiches, hot dishes, salads, and meats is excellent. And everyone in there is very nice. I've been in for lunch a few times on the weekends, and they always offer free samples of their newest wines.

I grabbed a slice of the spinach fritata and a salad and headed to the checkout. The guy behind the counter offered me a free sample of their newest white wine. I wasn't going to debate the merits of taking this TO GO (which, yeah, is illegal) and I politely declined. When he asked if I was certain, I explained that it wouldn't taste good with my cold. He pondered this for a minute before asking if perhaps I wanted a glass of Prosecco. He said something about how the bubbles might be helpful for my stuffy-ness. I again declined.

He rang me up, but hesitated a few seconds in passing along my reciept. "Here," he said, "this is on the house." And he handed me a Halls cough drop that looked like it had been sitting in his pocket for several months. The wrapper was tattered and the lozenge had kind of bled through the wrapper, making it a little sticky.

Not certain what etiquette applies in this situation, I thanked him for his help and left the store. And threw out the icky cough drop in the first available trash bin.

"Ma'am, I'll need to see some ID"

I rolled the varied contents of my grocery cart up to the register and put it on the conveyor belt: avocados, bread, a few things for my portion of Thanksgiving dinner, and some citrus fruit and a huge bottle of wine for the sangria I made. I got to the front of the line and started rummaging for my driver's license just as the cashier asked for my ID.

I handed it to her. She stared at it. She gasped. She stared at me. She gave it back and said "Well, I wasn't expecting that. Maybe 1987."

Now, I had just come from the gym. I was sweaty and a little grimy and wearing old gym clothes and a baseball cap. And no makeup. But really? Ten years? I thanked her and wished her a happy Thanksgiving. And then I called my mom, because I figured I owed her a thank you for the genetics that make me look like a college kid at 32.

Thankful for a full recovery

On December 27, 2008, in the middle of the Mass my choir sings at, I got a little woozy. I saw stars and started to sweat and shiver - simultaneously - and I didn't feel too good. I stepped away from the group, put down my music, and took a seat. I felt like I couldn't quite catch my breath. A friend, figuring I was upset at the very, very recent death of my dad, sat down with me and gave me a hug. "He'll always be with you," I remember him saying.

I told him I appreciated his concern, but I wasn't upset. Or at least, that wasn't why I stopped singing. I was just not feeling too well all of a sudden. I thought I might be having a panic attack. Or the symptoms that precede a really bad migraine. But I never got that headache.

For a few days after that, I felt a little off, but OK. And then, by December 30, I knew I was in some trouble. I was running a fever. My back ached. And I just felt really, really lousy. And tired. So incredibly weak and tired. I thought maybe I had a UTI. Then a few days later a sinus infection. Then strep and an ear infection. All those tests came back negative, but I was one really sick girl. And did I mention that I was really tired?

I continued to feel lousy for the next seven months. I would have days where I felt OK, but for the most part I felt miserable. For MONTHS. I was pretty certain, when I wasn't feeling much better in July, that I'd never fully recover from this ugly bout of mono.

But today, 11 months later, I'm pretty sure I've made a full recovery. My spleen no longer hurts. I can stay awake past 8 pm and not have to sleep 12-14 hours a night. I regained all the weight I lost because I didn't have the energy to eat for several weeks. I can walk for miles at a time without concern of the days-long recovery period that will follow. I can do sit-ups. I can work a full day and then go out for awhile in the evening. I can shop for my own groceries and do my own laundry - tasks I had to leave up to delivery services or the kindness of friends for more than half the year. I'm really feeling better. And I'm so very thankful for my good health.

Of course, as I sit here typing this, I'm pretty sure I'm getting a cold. But I'm also pretty sure it won't knock me out for another 11 months.