If you were a 9.5-pound shih tzu...

... you would know that the safest place in a thunderstorm is in between my feet. While I'm cooking dinner. And that orzo - from the aforementioned dinner - makes for some really nice hair decor. Poor Rocky - it's thundering, she's terrified and I show my sympathy for her plight by over-tossing the orzo so it lands on her little black head. And then call D. over to laugh at her with me.

So, a first in my blog: I Will Now Address All Three Designated Topics in One Post.

Running: Today was to be the day of the easy, post-race run. A nice, steady 2.5 or 3 miles around the neighborhood. But D. couldn't run with me before work, so I slept late. Then he called me at work, and we discussed running after work. For once, we both arrived home when we said we would, and we again discussed running. But the western sky was dark and gloomy, and a colleague about an hour north of us had earlier e-mailed me about the torrential thunderstorms he was experiencing. The ones that were Headed Our Way. You can see where this is going, right?

So we decided to eat dinner early, and then run after the storm passed. That was when D. made his fateful statement: "Would it be bad to have a glass of wine if we're going to run later?"

To my credit, I didn't immediately capitulate. I said, no, let's wait and have wine after we run. We started making dinner, and he strolled over to the window. "Looks like there are lots of storms out there - not just one," he said. Again, I fended off his evil influence: "Let's look at the forecast."

Time between consultation of online forecast ("scattered thundershowers") and wine hitting glass? About 12.4 seconds.

Chance of running tomorrow, with an 8:30 meeting and a 6:30 dinner date at my sister's? Absolutely zero.

Cooking: We're having one of my favorite easy summer meals tonight, orzo with zucchini and feta, with zucchini from the farm and fancy schmancy organic feta. I love the sharp, salty bite of the feta, combined with the warm, crispy zucchini. It's a recipe I think my mom got from Weight Watchers, of all places - you cook the orzo, combine it with quartered, sliced zucchini that you microwave with a tiny bit of water for a minute, then toss w/ feta, olive oil, oregano (also from the farm) and black pepper. If you're D., you also cook a hot dog and then slice that up and toss it in. (Note: I have no objection to hot dogs in any way, especially those that Answer to a Higher Authority. Just prefer my orzo unadulterated.) Anyway, the whole thing is done in about 25 minutes, and it's totally satisfying and yummy. And it goes really well with a glass of Sauvignon Blanc.

Writing: Kinda a big coup for me today. An old editor of mine - someone with whom I'd parted professionally under less-than-ideal circumstances - has a new gig, editing a new magazine published by a non-journalistic organization. I was vaguely aware of this, but hadn't given it much thought. Then I walked into work today to see an e-mail from an unfamiliar sender, but with the following subject: "Old Editor says you have to write an article for the first issue of our new magazine."

That was pretty damn cool. So a few e-mails and one phone conversation later, I got me an assignment to write for the launch issue of this new pub. The turnaround time is quick - 10 days. And the subject is kinda daunting. And I think I'm older than the editor who assigned the piece to me. BUT. The pay? Is awesome. I made D. guess the rate, which is a really mean thing to do to a non-writer, and he didn't even come close. But when I told him, this was his response: "That's a puppy!" Which it is. One purebred, long-haired, half-sibling of Rocky. Wicked cool.

Now I'm gonna drink me some more wine, and get another bowl of orzo. And, in case it wasn't already clear, not run.