How I feel about Everything, A-Z, Whether you Want it or Not

Don't blame me, this was EJG's idea. I think he's feeling a little guilty about his lax blogging habits. The following is my current state of mind. Or maybe think of it as a year in review, A to Z. Now that I've done it, fellow bloggers, I lay down the gauntlet. Who dares to pick it up?

A- ANTI
Anti -immigration. Anti-War. Anti-Abortion. Anti-Drug. Anti-Racism. I’m so tired of negativity.How about this: Pro-immigration reform, pro-peace, pro-choice and pro-child, pro-addicts recovery programs, pro-equality.

B- BARACK OBAMA
He’s kin to Cheney? Loved his books. Loved his speech at the Democratic convention. Love his energy and his optimism. Not sure about him as a candidate.

C- CLINTON
Bill – Probably one of the smartest presidents ever. What the legacy will read remains to be seen. Hillary- She’s not Bill.

D- DEPP, JOHNNY
Talented and Yummy. Who cares if he can sing?

E- EDWARDS, ELIZABETH AND JOHN
Her cancer came back, and they’re still running around campaigning. Is he a viable candidate? Is she going to be okay? And what about their little boy, Jack, age 7?

F- FRIENDS AND FAMILY
The former are a joy. The later make me crazy. Both enrich my life.

G- GOD
If he/she is really out there, does he/she really will people to hate, to maim, to kill in his/her name?

H- HUCKABEE
Be afraid. Be very afraid.

I- IRAQ
Don’t get me started.

J- JUDI, THE TRAINER
Oh, how I love the way she hurts me. She makes me believe I’m a gladiator.

K- KITE RUNNER
Compelling and beautifully crafted. Don’t want to ruin the read by seeing the film.

L- LUNGES
Calisthenics of the devil. Worse when Darth Judi, the trainer, commands that they are performed while holding 40 lbs. of hand weights.

M- MOTHERHOOD & MARATHONS
Huge undertakings both.

N- NEW HAMPSHIRE
Lovely state, a bit cold for my taste. No more qualified to choose a president than the Supreme Court was in 2000.

O- OJ - THE “JUICE”
Oops, he did it again.

P- PEOPLE
More alike than they are different. Wonderful, mostly.

Q- QUESTIONING
The foundation of our democracy. Why do we have a stamp tax? Why tax our tea? That’s how our country began. Not an anti-American activity.

R- RELIGION
Personal. Inappropriate when worn on a sleeve, pushed in someone else’s face, or proclaimed as a qualification when seeking a job in secular America.

S- SCHOOLS
We’ve got it all wrong. Too much too soon, without time to process or to learn to love learning. Big mistake underway, and we may feel the fallout for years to come.

T- TELEVISION
I heard that the writers went on strike. It hasn’t affected my watching habits, though. MASH is as good as ever.

U- UMBRELLA –UH – UH –UH, AY-AY-AY
Man, do I hate that song. Nothing but dreck on the radio these days.

V- VEHICLE
She’s recently hand washed, the top is down, and I’m cruisin’… to Publix. Whatever, I’m loving the ‘Stang.

W- WORKOUTS & WRITING
A bitch to do, but they feel great when they’re done.

X- EX-PRESIDENTS
Carter’s work has been heroic. Even GB the first has done good for people since he’s out of offices. What will the second do post D.C.?

Y- YOUTH
Definitely a state of mind. 29 and holding.

Z- ZZZZZZZZ
Sleep. Highly underrated. Pillow time is the best time.

I must be getting old...

I try to keep an open mind, but it's hard for me to find anything decent on the radio these days. So instead I seek out artists I know and keep my ears on alert for someone new and interesting. Regardless of your musical tastes, may I recommend you give a listen to Melissa Etheridge's newest cd/download, Awakening. Even my 13-year old has found things to love about this cd. In the car today she had us play Message to Myself five times in a row. The cd is full of messages to others, too. In one song she wrote to "The man who's been told that he's a king," for instance.

I was singing along to "Message" in the car when I paused to think about the message in the song. One line in particular:
It's funny what you fear can make you weak
Truth is what you get
When truth is what you speak

Embrace what I fear, so that it loses the power to weaken me. Speak the truth to hear it. Wisdom in a pop radio package.

Maybe Melissa's not the top of the charts these days. Actually iTunes lists its #1 download as "Low" by Flo Rida. It has some pretty intense lyrics too:

h h h h h let me to talk to ya let me to talk to ya
mh h h h h let me to talk to ya
come on shortie had them apple bottom jeans (jeans)
boots with the fur (with the fur)
the whole club was lookin at her
she hit the floor (she hit the floor)
next thing you know shorty got low, low, low, low, low, low, low, low
them baggy sweat pants
and the reboks with the straps (with the straps)
she turn around and gave that big booty a smack(heyyy)
she hit the floor (she hit the floor)
next thing you know shorty got low, low, low, low, low, low, low, low (come on)

Inertia, Indeed

in·er·tia /ɪnˈɜrʃə, ɪˈnɜr-/ [in-ur-shuh, i-nur-]
–noun
1.inertness, esp. with regard to effort, motion, action, and the like; inactivity; sluggishness.
2.Physics.

a.the property of matter by which it retains its state of rest or its velocity along a straight line so long as it is not acted upon by an external force.
b.an analogous property of a force: electric inertia.

—Related forms
in·er·tial, adjective
—Synonyms 1. torpor, inaction, laziness

I've discovered something about this noun, particularly definition 2.a. The body at rest retains its state of rest so long as it is not acted on by an external force. Sitting for a while, catching up on blogs, and checking on emails resulted in torture as I stood to refill my cup with the makings of a cranberry-pomegranate spritzer. My feet curled, my muscles froze and my back made a crunching noise. I thought that I had overdone it, and my foray into fitness had ended.

Then I took a killer step class at the Y. Step interval, taught by Judi the infamous trainer, involves cardio and strength interval training. Usually this means uptempo choreography segments followed by endless lunges or squats. I never bounced higher or squatted lower. The feet, legs, and back felt great all the way through the class. This reinforces definition 2.a. again. Matter is retaining its state of velocity.

So the trick to feeling good after overdoing it is to do it some more. What a vicious cycle I have begun.

Two Halves make a Whole

Today was the second half marathon in three weeks. Mother Nature was kind, providing cool breezes and mostly overcast skies. Making our way along the course through Beauclerc and Mandarin, the time flew as I laughed with Click and Clack, and then belted out some tunes to my iPod. My apologies to my fellow runners who were subjected to the breathless, loud covers of hits that spanned the decades from Kool and the Gang's celebrations to the golden tones of Jill Scott.

I was surprised to find the second time to be a little easier. Mile marker 8 was the first time I thought about how much further there was to run. I may have even experienced a runner's high, sometime after mile 10. I didn't have an adrenaline rush or feel myself levitate. I just felt incredibly, ridiculously happy. Drenched with sweat, chafing God knows where, and plodding along at a pace that would embarrass any self-respecting runner, I couldn't lose the obnoxious grin. Running may be second only to waterboarding in degrees of torture, but I'm actually enjoying the sport.

What's more is that our friends are encouraging this behavior. Enablers all, they show up and cheer for us, clapping when we cross finish lines way after the award assemblies have concluded. CS dragged MD from his sickbed and together they met us at the gatorade pools. The official photographers of the JG/EG half marathon, friends and supporters, drove a good 30 minutes each way just to be there. Forget the runner's high, I can get that rush any time I think about these people I love.

As to the possibility of improving the half marathon to a full, I firmly state AIN'T GONNA HAPPEN. I know, CS, you suggest that when I voice it then God wills the opposite to come true. In this case I think I'm safe. Nobody heard that over the screaming of my muscles.

The eye of the beholder? Baloney.

Our American culture and its obsession with youthful, slender beauty has never been an environment where my appearance would be considered noteworthy. Thankfully, I have little need for that superficial stuff. I find comfort in being noted for my deeds rather than my 'do or my duds. Yet lately I've noticed some changes that make me uncomfortable. Lines on my face appear when I laugh (often) and then hang around for a while (all day). Shadowy crescents beneath my eyes used to be the result of late night frolicking, but now they're a feature of midday living. Tracks above my brow used to be an indicator of my deep thought, but now they are the permanent onramp to my thinning hair. With youth slipping away from me, this would be a crappy time to become vain.

I thought about this a great deal this week as I traveled with the loveliest onsite coordinator. She is a graceful, beautiful woman. She speaks softly, properly, clearly, and with a light feminine voice. I believe it's possible to hear the commas and the periods in her speech. She keeps her hair a golden blonde with a delicate flip at the bottom. Sparkly earrings and a fur vest were her week-long accessories. With colorful fingernails and brightly colored lips, she is a picture of the put-together woman. Pushing hard toward (or maybe past) 70, I wish I could look half as good. As we spoke I found myself thinking that she must have been a beautiful woman, back when she was young. I tried to imagine the face without the laugh lines, the eyes without the shadows, the brow without the thinking tracks, and her hands, before the fingers became twisted above the knuckles, the result of arthritis and time.

Beautiful when she was young? What the hell. She's beautiful now. And I guess that means I would be too, if I cared about that superficial stuff.

 

Let it snow, let it snow, get me outta' here

Yesterday's drive between seminar locations clocked out at just over 100 miles. It took us 4 1/2 hours. The first 8/10 of a mile took us one hour.

D2 and the Perky Chef

Geez, one cannot even swing the proverbial dead cat around New England without smacking into a Dunkin' Donuts. They're in every gas station and on every corner. Preparing for the drive tonight, I knew I needed coffee. How I longed for the Green Goddess. In her absence I agreed to a trip to Dunkies. The warm, brown-tinted water they sell has very little to do with coffee.


It's not just the service stations and the intersections that feature the Double D's. There are only 2 types of commercials on tv up here. Cheesey political advertisements and Dunkster ads. Am I the only one who finds it disturbing that Rachel Ray is a spokesperson for D²? A chef and food connoisseur, a woman who makes her living cooking and recommending good eats, is running to the bank for hawking crappy coffee and sugary fried amorphous blobs of bread product.