Author Archives: 40andover

Is it me?

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Last night’s commute, straight from my simultaneous note-taking on my blackberry (like Anderson Cooper on CNN blogging through commercials).

Man on the subway is talking about how horrible marriage is.  He is really ranking on his wife.  Says he doesn’t get why she wonders why he is always drunk.  Also, he is a fund manager without a fund. And he is belittling his “friend” who is on the train.  Now, he is pissed that his friend recently moved into a new apartment, asking his friend how come he is doing well if he can’t pull it together.  He keeps asking about people they know in common and whether they are married. I am gathering that they don’t work together any more.  They both get off the train. I guess it is my turn to stand up and ask women if they are wearing matching or clean undergarments.  Maybe a therapist will start talking about his or her crazy clients or maybe a disheveled man who is homeless but no more or less crazy than the fund-less fund manager will walk into the car. Nope. Pretty ok although there is a straight guy reading a pink colored book called Sex and the Single Girl. Ok, he just checked out a guy. So, maybe a not-so-straight guy reading a book with a pink cover about single women’s sex lives. Ok, that’s weirder.

Ok ok ok ok. I am heading out of the subway on one of those exit-only stairs that have the out-only turnstiles with the horizontal bars all the way up to the ceiling. A man in his 70s who sports the bohemian, artiste look is aheading of me and climbs onto one of the lower bars the way my 7 year-old does, intending for me to pushing him through.  So here I am pushing this strange stranger through the turnstile as I would my son.  At least, the (strange) stranger didn’t say weeeeeeeeeee like my son, thank G-d.  But I am standing on the street in the rain typing this on my blackberry, so who is the crazy one?

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Minnesotans should move to NYC for safety.

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People wore weapons to pick up trash on a stretch of highway in Minnesota. People in New York City aren’t even that crazy.

Love thy neighbor as thyself, but pack some heat just in case your neighbor isn’t as loving or lovely as you are?

Man, between Texas and Minnesota, I feel safer in New York City.  How does THAT make sense?

 

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AP – Mon Oct 26, 9:24 pm ET  

MENDOTA HEIGHTS, Minn. – Motorists in Mendota Heights might have seen a group of residents picking up trash while packing heat this weekend. About a dozen people spent nearly three hours picking up litter Sunday along a 2-mile stretch of highway. All legally carried guns on their hips. It was the inaugural trash cleanup event for the group that calls itself the Minnesota Carry Permit Holders [remainder deleted]

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Why I often focus on politics

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So, I focus on politics which is sometimes a downer.  But I can’t write about the Seinfeldian experiences in my family life because many of them read the blog.

In talking about a future gathering, the purpose of which is to pick at the emotional scabs over a wobbly relationship, I advised the person to wear a HazMat suit because although the people present vary in intensity, all will want to ask inappropriately invasive questions.  But I can’t go into the background because I don’t want to be excommunicated from my family.

So, you see my predicament.  I find people endlessly fascinating, but I need to keep it out of the family.

That is why I am going back to the gym and try to take public transportation.  Because the Seinfeldian experiences happen to me or to strangers and then it is fair game.

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The Flu that led the pigs to slaughter

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Ok, I am not a doctor (although sometimes I pretend to be among family and friends who know better).  And I don’t know much about the scientific origins of the N1H1 virus. 

I know this:  everyone is still going to call it Swine Flu.  Also, I know that I don’t want to imagine how humans got it from pigs (if that is even true).  Oops, too late.  Yuuuuuuuuuck.  Pause for composure.  Resume.

As I understand it (but unencumbered by information, knowledge or a medical degree), this strain of Swine Flu started in Mexico.  The contagion is brought about by human mobility. 

Nevertheless, some months back, Cairo decided to slaughter all the pigs in the city to protect against Swine Flu, although I find it hard to imagine airplanes full of pigs schlepping to visit their relatives in Mexico and bringing it back to Cairo.  Also, in a country with a Muslim super-majority, why are there pigs? 

Still, the irony is yet to come in this story.  After the pigs were slaughtered, the residents of Cairo were overwhelmed by garbage and unsanitary conditions.  Why? Because the pigs — among the most unsanitary of animals — ate the garbage and kept the streets clean (or cleaner).  Now, without the pigs, there is a real threat of disease from the mounds of rotting garbage.  Pigs were Cairo’s free sanitation system.  How crazy is that?

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Bruised, but energized

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I arrived at the gym at the crack of 11:30am on Sunday, ready to get back into shape.

Previously, I described my body as a pear with rhombus touches.  Right now, I feel like a square rhombus, which is a fatter, squatter, diamond shape.  I am going for the diamond shape rhombus — I am not getting any taller but I can shrink the girth.  Less girth, more mirth.  Somehow that isn’t slogan-y enough.  Let me try that again in sing-song perky voice — More Mirth!! Less Girth!!!  Naw.

How about:  It is time to put the T-O-N-E in my muscles.  (Except there is no “t”, “o” or “n” in “muscle”.)  Don’t I sound like an infomercial?  [imagine someone with perky, sing-song voice singing “All right, okay, waste that waist away!!” while doing something 1980s like jazzercise.]  (Didn’t some trainer of C-list celebrities say something like that?)

I still looked dweeby in my gym outfit because, while the length of my work-out pants covered my unshaven legs, they were toooooo form fitting.   (Here’s the sad truth — these once weren’t form fitting work-out pants.)  And my work-out shirt, which thank G-d was not sleeveless, wasn’t long enough. 

I did both cardio and weights.  I hurt today.  That is an understatement.  My body is SCREAMING at me.  Yet, I will go at it again, today, or, errrrrr, tomorrow.  But DEFINITELY, today or tomorrow.  Or Wednesday.  But I am committed, clearly.

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Sure, Goldman, give out billions

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but, first, put cash in an escrow account equal to all loans and other finance arrangements guaranteed by the US Government.  Second, the US Government will no longer guarantee those loans and other finance arrangements.  Whatever is left, go ahead, give to your heart’s content.

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Finally, a Hate Crime Bill Goes to the White House

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http://voices.washingtonpost.com/capitol-briefing/2009/10/senate_approves_hate_crimes_me.html?referrer=email

It is great that there is a federal hate crimes bill that will protect gays and lesbians.  Unfortunately, it had to appended to a bill authorizing pay increases for our troops in order to pass.  And, there is some pork barrel spending that Obama opposes in the bill and he will get tagged with perpetuating wasteful spending.

It is sad that there couldn’t be three separate bills:  “clean” appropriations bill for our troops, a clean hate crimes bill, and a clean bill on the controversial spending item.  They have nothing in common.

It is uncomfortable sometimes to look too closely into how we are governed.  But look, we must.

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Hey, Blue Dog Democrats, it is time to decide

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http://www.whorunsgov.com/Projects/Reform_Tracker/Bluedogs

Some Blue Dog Democrats are undecided about any or all of the following options:  public option, cooperatives, free market, individual mandatory coverage. 

It is no longer ok for you all to stay undecided.  You need to take a stand, one way or another, on each of these options.  If you take a principled stand, you will be respected even if people disagree.

But if you wait to see which way the winds of public opinion blow, you might experience a blow-out in the next election cycle.

Times a’wastin’.

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What does the Berlin Wall have in common with F Troop?

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As you may remember, in the early TV show, “F Troop”, the US Calvary was losing a battle with Native Americans (Indians, then) at Appomattox and was in retreat, until Private WiltonParmenter abruptly sneezed (the sound apparently misunderstood by some soldiers as “Charge!”) and turned retreat into victory.  He was then given the command of F Troop in Fort Courage.

What has this to do with the Berlin Wall? 

Well, according to the Wall Street Journal, apparently, East German Politburo member Günter Schabowski was fumbling through his papers at a press conference November 9, 1989, in response to a question about newly-instituted travel regulations.  A little addled by the questioning, he said some incomprehensible things that the reporters heard as, effective immediately, there would be free travel from East to West Berlin.  People swarmed the Wall and the confusion and chaos that ensued caused the Wall to come down.  I bet he wished he had only abruptly sneezed. 

He is apparently still alive but too sick to be interviewed.  The accidental hero of German reunification.

Aint it always the little things that bring down the giants?

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Slapstick at the gym, starring me

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Ok, I have not kept up with my gym routine.  But this week I resolved to get back into shape (a pear with rhombus accents).  So I spent two days getting psyched and yesterday I went to the gym. 

First, I have to say in my defense that I am sleepwalking most mornings before 10am so while I thought I was packing a gym “outfit”, I was, in fact, packing a gym “misfit”.

I am in the locker room and to my horror I discover that I packed running tights that go down just below my knees and are form-fitting.  Two things to note — since Labor Day, I can’t remember when I shaved my legs, and if form-fitting looked good on me, I wouldn’t need to go to the gym.  I soldiered on and experienced the unpleasant sensation of my butt touching the backs of my legs and creeping around my body to engulf my hips.  If you are eating while you read this, please stop one or the other.

I have a geeky t-shirt that stops at my waist making “my look” particularly unattractive.  If my skin were pasty, I would have won the Woody Allen female impersonator award.  Not pretty a pretty sight at all.

Nevertheless, boldly, I go upstairs amid the lovely, the young and the buff and claim rights to a Stairmaster.  Not the easy pedal kind, but the full-on steps.  I am going to do 30 minutes no matter what.

After 5 minutes I think I will die.  Then I decide that I should have turned on my iPod that is lying on the tray all tangled.  I am trying to untangle the iPod, while on Stairmaster and wearing bi-focals.  Well that lasted for less than a second because I am crumpled on the ground having banged my head.  Buff, beautiful and thin people come over, offering helpful excuses like, did you have a seizure?  Did you have a drink before going on Stairmaster?  Have you eaten?  No, in fact, multi-tasking on a Stairmaster when you are a klutz AND you are wearing bi-focals is stupid, but not an illness recognized by the medical community or any support group known to me.

Bruised, but undaunted, I return to the Stairmaster to conquer this beast.  I start the program over AND I up the level from 5 to 6.  I’ll show the machine who is boss.  I make sure to put my ear phones in first.  But after 5 minutes, I am ready to collapse.  I decide it is time to email my college friends to catch up.  At some point I knocked my ear phones out while thumbing a message on my blackberry.  Ah!! Another trick, you dangerous and mean Stairmaster!! You want me to retrieve my ear phones so that I can fall off again.  No, I say, NO!!!  I will not succumb to your evil tricks!! The ear phones are not near any mechanism.  I WILL CONTINUE FOR 30 MINUTES AND MY FORM FITTING OUTFIT WILL LOOK BETTER FOR IT!!

I spend the next 20 minutes on Stairmaster looking at the closed captioning on the TV screens (the bifocals did come in handy, or seemed to, anyway).  I am bored out of my mind.  But I am determined to burn 200 calories and climb over 2 miles.  I even do the 1.5 minute warm down after the 30 minutes are over.  Take THAT, you evil machine.

Triumphant, I walk around the gym floor looking at other tortures waiting to be vanquished.  Then I catch sight of my gym stalker in the mirror — that middle-aged gray haired lady getting a little thick around the middle.   You remember, the one who looks suspiciously like my mother.  I sigh.  My reflection and I have had enough of the gym for today.  We go home together.

But there is always tomorrow . . . . . .

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