Bird styling VS Spitting cobra

I have to admit that a hairstylist hasn't had the chance to operate on me, but I do get a treatment from my bird stylist every now and then. The last few years I've managed to civilize myself to such an extent that I comb my hair almost every day, but I live my enormous combing ambitions through Sambo. I'm the type of person that can easily spend a few hours a day working with a dog, taking him on walks, teaching him tricks etc, but if I would have to comb him 15 min a day… No way Jose. Except for the month, month and a half when he sheds I can confess that the closest thing that comes to me combing Sambo is when I walk across the living room with a fork in my hand, trip and go through Sambo's coat twice while trying to regain my balance. Anywho, I manage to somehow take care at least of my hair, with which our bird loves to help me, as he likes to go through my hair with his beak when he's on my shoulder. My bird stylist, what can I say. And now that you know all this I'd like to proudly announce that Sambo was comben on Sunday! Don't ask me why, but I felt like combing him and I did. Yes, with bravoury and courage beyond all praise I engaged into this daring activity and successfully dealt with it. And so, 4 min and 27 sec later Sambo was looking fine and as good as new, but even though our spirits were high after such a great success we both needed to relax, so we went to Kurešček, where the black monster ran and ran and yes, you know it, ran some more. Sometimes I look at him and wonder how does he manage to keep his legs attached to him, how come they don't just unbuckle and fall off, I really can't understand how he manages to run around tirelessly for such a long time (and most of all, where does he find the will to do it), not to mention that I haven't seen such a quick paced trot even in Standardbred horses…

Of course he likes to show off with his trot, especially when we go running and I'm ready to be plugged onto a respirator after half an hour. At that time he usually runs to me and runs by my side a few metres, looking at me with the biggest smile possible. Then he figures out that I'm too slow and uninteresting, so he continues his journey, leaving me behind again. The other day I decided to try and variegate my running expeditions; I often see runners with headphones on so I wated to try it out myself. I borrowed an mp3 player from my darling and hoped to have a very pleasant run since I knew he has some Hammerfalls on, so I expected a good portion of metal rock to stimulate me. You can only imagine my face when I raised the volume at the end of our street to figure out which Hammerfall song comes with weird drums and heard a kind of oriental bleating. It is fruitless to argue about different tastes in music (and other things, of course), but the fact is that oriental music is certainly not what I prefer to listen to, whereas Gregor's fascination over Tunis left other, less pleasant side effects for me. One of them is certainly that I expected some Swedish metal rockers and got Turkish serenaders. I was already too far from home to turn back and leave the mp3 player at home and I didn't feel like carrying it without making some use of it, so I let Mr. Turkey carry on with his act. I managed to somehow ignore the music, which served as only a very mild background anyway, and after half an hour it grew upon me so much so that I added some elements of oriental dancing to my running. I tripped over a root when running throgh the woods, so I performed a sequence with the elements Lif your arms up to your side – shake your booty – wave your arms in front of you – spin your head while looking for balance – leap ahead and land in a perfect Telmark with your hands in a Walk like an Egyptian position in the middle of my marathon. In front of a public, what else, because it wouldn't be half as interesting if three runners wouldn't be passing by in that same moment…

Besides the interdisciplinarity and including elements of other sports and arts into my running episodes I have to admit another, less apetising habit that contributes to the second part of today's title. When I run all bodily functions that excrete any kind of facial secret start working with full power from a reason unknown to me. To put it plainly, when I'm running I have to blow my nose and rub my eyes all the time and also spit every now and then. And so it happened that in this session I spat precisely the instant that Sambo was passing me on my right (now you know why you always have to pass people on their left). Luckily the projectile only touched him slightly, but since it was so cold he came home with gel on his hair tips and visible decorative crystals. And that was the beginning of Sambo Swarowski… anyhow, I have to mention that I grew so much attached to my Turkish jingling friends that after half an hour I was almost disappointed to hear Billy and be left out without their pleasant company. Almost! Dancing with myself, Rebel yell and Shock to the system are a wonderful background accompaniment for more dynamic running sessions, I tell you. Thus I came home totally exhausted (it would be wise to change the order next time since the Turkish buddies are quite calmer and slower, much more suitable for the second part of the session, when the batteries aren't as full) and in a kind of pirate state. Because of the before mentioned trip over a root my ankle was hurting, so on the upwards slope right before home I dragged my foot behind me as if it were wooden and because of the wind and the cold my left eye watered so much that I almost washed out the contact lense a few times – towards the end I didn't have to worry about it anymore because it froze to my eye which converted into glass…

To the ones that are still reading – good news, my webmaster has finally updated the page, welcome to www.sambo.si , where you can find some new pics and links while the latest news are always here anyway.

And to end, here are a few pics of our trip to Kurešček. Take care!

Sambo in the wind



Running through the forest





Marching: left...



... and right



Spriiiiiiiiiiint!







Karate Kid :)