Olivos en Russell Blvd. 
I discovered this olive grove (if a grove can consist of two rows of trees) last Wednesday...a lovely bit of serendipity. Wednesdays are usually my days off from running, but for some reason I went out. Today, I went to the ARC, thinking I'd be unable to run today, and planning to use one of those machines. On my way out of the locker room, however, the image of that olive grove came to mind...and I went outside. It was my intention to walk, but the ankle felt OK. I ran very carefully in the light drizzle. 38 minutes of pure unadulterated Ramones lifted the mood induced by the grey skies and an entire morning spent in my office. How can I not respond to the unbridled joy of those earlier songs? Four chords were enough and "1-2-3-4!" was as valid a line as "Oh yah!" and repeating "Sheena is a punk rocker." or "I wanna be your boyfriend." enough times eliminated the need for too many other lyrics. My euphoric mood lasted until the return to the building. Unfortunately, by the time I got back to the car (yeah, I drove...don't judge me!) I just wanted to listen to "Volver, volver" by Vicente Fernández as many times as I could, but it's not really the same without the tequila blanco, so I let the next song on the disk, Bonde do Rolê's jubilantly obnoxious "Solta o frango" grab me by both hands and yank me the hell up out of that muddy little mood.
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This blog and I might need to spend some time apart...
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