Dana Burland

Look, look! Tomato babies! I've seen at least seven so far, all excitingly different in shape and size. Ahh, the sweet, prideful feeling of finally  doing it right. Who knew that doing it 'right' was to pretty much leave them be and let them do it outside on their own. My 2011 gardening moto: fear less, trust more.

I felt the shake from a 5.8 magnitude earthquake on Tuesday; this weekend I’ll face the unknown wrath of category 3, Hurricane Irene. These summer surprises from Mother Nature plus other strange emotional and physical events in my life (and the lives of my friends) got me thinking; thinking about anticipation, unreadiness but more so; preparedness. How, why and when do we brace ourselves? We’re all susceptible to the same environmental events as our neighbors, and relatively similar physical, emotional and mental events as we move through life; what makes us act in advance or react differently? I’m young, and thankfully haven’t lived through too many major physical, emotional or mental events to have my life clouded by them. I do notice ways the most impactful ‘disasters’ (mostly emotional) I’ve lived through have stayed with me. Like little strings around certain neurons in my brain that, when provoked, remind me how and why to beware. The new learned way to prepare myself. ...

One of my buddies is sick. She’s been bouncing around docs like a little pinball. Like any young otherwise healthy thang, she’s ready to be done with it already. The pains and tests she’s experienced lately are unusual for her, and highly unusual for someone her age. Last winter, both her beloved kitties also fell sick quickly. Each had their own health escapades in the past (one a drooly snaggletooth, the other blind), but something unexplainable seemed to plague them both suddenly and within a doctor’s visit and two days, all kitties went to heaven. Her pup has wasted prime backyard digging hours chilling with the vet to conquer tummy troubles and her otherwise healthy live-in boy is feeling strange discomfort too (lumping of dog and boyfriend into same sentence unintentional…). The cherry on top of the mystery is that all of the above have occurred since she moved to her new home about a year ago. Too much is too odd here to brush off. I’ve urged her to have her water tested...

A few months ago Runner's World  published a story about running mantras . I read it, thought for awhile, and let it go. I don't fill my mind with too much when I run- it's more so a time for me to clear it (save for some terrible Backstreet Boys lyrics or Kenny Chesney song that pumps through my ipod). I also don't push myself to any real extremes when I run either. I've always just ran to run- to move my body, to not feel like a bag of jello, to de-gunk my mind. But sometimes I need a little help to get started or to keep going. That's when I employ my sole "running mantra". There is a phrase I heard a few years ago while shamelessly watching Jon &; Kate + 8. It was back before Kate's attitude turned from bossy to obnoxious. Jon & Kate were flying with too many kids on too little of a plane on too long of a trip when Kate spoke up about how she handles a rough end to a flight. Through the cries and shrieks of 8 munchkins, Kate looks...

I'm sorry to be the anti-fun-human, a lame-o, negative-Natalie, sun-burnt-Samantha ‘round these web parts; but I have a confession. I just do not love the summertime. Permission to chuck your flip-flops and sunglasses at me granted. The thing is, it’s just too HOT. It’s hot, sticky, and difficult to manage life. I want to be outside enjoying the weather, but I don’t want that horrid feeling of sweat swimming down the spinal indent of my back WHEN I’M NOT EVEN DOING ANYTHING REMOTELY PHYSICAL. It’s too hot to run, cook, eat, sleep, wear clothing and exist happily. Woof. My fancy-scmancy, historical, big white mansion-apartment has made this summer particularly gross. I live in a third floor apartment (penthouse, woot wooot!), with awesome old wood, original crown molding, and stupidly high ceilings; with painted-shut windows, terrible air circulation and no central air. Did you hear me about the central air? My roomie and I pay almost diddlysquat in the winter because heat ris...

What do my running shoes and work have in common?

I made massage appointment because I stress-slept so poorly over the last week and a half that I twinged my neck on one side. I then twinged the other side somewhere in the middle of my 12 hour snooze in a less than cozy cheap hotel bed in Baltimore (Death Cab for a Cutie concert with my college friend Kyle, beyond worth it). I just got back from said massage and now in addition to not being able to move my neck, I can't move my shoulders. Ahhhh, it's such a good hurt, my friends. If you've also had the spoiled rotten luxury of paying a lady to army crawl up and down your lower back and turn your shoulder blades into raw meat, you know what I mean. It kind of feels like I might wake up tomorrow paralyzed, or in complete relaxed body bliss. I could be worried about it, but she rubbed my worry holding temples into chicken noodle soup and now all I can think about is rainbows, candy canes and tea cup dogs. Can I haz massage every day? 

I’m a plant killer. There was the death and destruction of a basil plant of 2008, the wounding of several spider plants (of which my brother all nursed back to health), and lord even knows how many photosynthesized souls were lost in my houseplant themed serial killing streak. I want to be able to grow and garden, I just CAN’T. But, I pity the fool who doesn’t believe in practice . So, toward the end of May, when a conference table full of organic cherry tomato seedlings were up for adoption at work, I carefully picked two and brought them home. If only they knew. I’m proud to say- after two and a half months, accidental exposure to a rather large storm, and a long weekend away with no water, my tomato babies are still alive! May July However- do you SEE a tomato? I’m beginning to get a little peeved. Sure it’s nice to have some foliage in the apartment, but I’ve got recipe upon recipe WAITING for juicy, ruby globes and it doesn’t even seem like my babes are toying ...