Sometime last spring, but maybe even late winter, I stopped going to Boot Camp at my local YMCA. I just sort of fell out the habit. I think I was traveling alot and then had a few meetings those nights, or maybe it was raining, and I just didn't go. I still made it to the gym - I just didn't make it to Boot Camp.
Until last Thursday night. I went back to Boot Camp, walked out alive (but barely), and have been sore ever since. And then I went again tonight. The Monday and Thursday classes are different enough that I'm pretty sure I'll be sore until the next class, and this time in all different places.
There is nothing to love about Boot Camp. He makes us run, which I do not like to do. He makes us do push-ups, which I do not like to do. He makes us sweat. And then sweat more. Like it or not, I sweat. And then sweat more. There are short water breaks where we are allowed to slake, but not quench, our thirst.
It is horrible and awesome at the same time. Because I can run. And I can do push-ups. And I sweat all the time, so the fact that I'm sweating more isn't actually so special. And it's a good sore, in a sick sort of way.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Saturday, June 11, 2011
People Watching
Stacy and Clinton would have a field day at the McCarran Airport here in Las Vegas. I wold not be overstating if I said that very, very few people are dressed appropriately here. Yes, I realize that my understanding of appropriate may not be everyone's (though I can't understand why not).
There are also many women wearing pants so tight I'm not sure how they'll actually be able to sit down on their flights. There are also more sequins than you generally expect to see at an airport not worn by 6 year old girls. The men are just as bad - but mainly in the zhlubby direction. Big cargo shorts, polo shirts and flip flops. Nothing that fits well.
There are too many women who have colored streaks in their hair - blue, pink, green... in other words, not something they got at their local salon. And each of these women is well north of 20 years old, and probably north of 40. It's just not right.
Having nothing to do with fashion, it is clear that many people here enjoyed at least some of their time in Las Vegas at a buffet, or perhaps several. To be clear, these do not seem to be the same people who are wearing skin tight clothes, which I appreciate....
Shockingly (and not having to do with fashion), I have seen a few of those 36" cups (and their longer straws).
There are also many women wearing pants so tight I'm not sure how they'll actually be able to sit down on their flights. There are also more sequins than you generally expect to see at an airport not worn by 6 year old girls. The men are just as bad - but mainly in the zhlubby direction. Big cargo shorts, polo shirts and flip flops. Nothing that fits well.
There are too many women who have colored streaks in their hair - blue, pink, green... in other words, not something they got at their local salon. And each of these women is well north of 20 years old, and probably north of 40. It's just not right.
Having nothing to do with fashion, it is clear that many people here enjoyed at least some of their time in Las Vegas at a buffet, or perhaps several. To be clear, these do not seem to be the same people who are wearing skin tight clothes, which I appreciate....
Shockingly (and not having to do with fashion), I have seen a few of those 36" cups (and their longer straws).
Friday, June 10, 2011
Louie Anderson
is a funny man. He looks older than you think he'll be, and that could be because he is older than he was in anything in reruns on tv. He's a big man, sort of like the Stay-Puffed marshmallow man, only dressed in black. He played in a relatively small theater and an all-ages audience. Most of his act was funny, and parts of it were very, very funny. Meaning they should have supplied either tissues or Depends.
As we were standing in line to enter the theater, the man in front of us was reading a book. He was leaning against a slot machine and I was standing right behind him, next to a woman dumping her dollars in and smoking like it was her good luck charm. There were a good six feet between the man and the front of the line. I asked if he could move forward and he said he wanted to lean against the slot machine for support as he read. Maybe I should clarify - he was resting his elbow on the machine so he could hold his book up. My impression was that he was leaning there for comfort, not physical necessity. So I politely asked him if I could stand in front of him to get out of the direct exhalation path of the woman at the slot machine. He gave me a dirty look and then I just moved up and told him he could have his place back in line when they opened the doors. And then of course my two friends came and joined me in line and then his wife arrived. An abundance of dirty looks wafted our direction and it did cross my mind to go ahead of them into the theater. Alas, we did not.
Though not about Louie Anderson, there was one other phenomenon I've noticed here in Las Vegas. On television and on billboards all over town, I've never seen more ads for bail bondsmen, attorneys who can help you beat bankruptcy, DUIs, and debt reduction services. Contrast this to the boutiques in City Center and you can easily understand the economic extremes of our country.
As we were standing in line to enter the theater, the man in front of us was reading a book. He was leaning against a slot machine and I was standing right behind him, next to a woman dumping her dollars in and smoking like it was her good luck charm. There were a good six feet between the man and the front of the line. I asked if he could move forward and he said he wanted to lean against the slot machine for support as he read. Maybe I should clarify - he was resting his elbow on the machine so he could hold his book up. My impression was that he was leaning there for comfort, not physical necessity. So I politely asked him if I could stand in front of him to get out of the direct exhalation path of the woman at the slot machine. He gave me a dirty look and then I just moved up and told him he could have his place back in line when they opened the doors. And then of course my two friends came and joined me in line and then his wife arrived. An abundance of dirty looks wafted our direction and it did cross my mind to go ahead of them into the theater. Alas, we did not.
Though not about Louie Anderson, there was one other phenomenon I've noticed here in Las Vegas. On television and on billboards all over town, I've never seen more ads for bail bondsmen, attorneys who can help you beat bankruptcy, DUIs, and debt reduction services. Contrast this to the boutiques in City Center and you can easily understand the economic extremes of our country.
Thursday, June 09, 2011
More on Vegas
It's easy to write about the consumer excesses here. Much harder is writing about places like the Valley of Fire and Red Rock Canyon.
The Valley of Fire is a state park just north of Las Vegas and just west of Lake Mead. The rocks are a serious shade of red and the shapes they've taken on from wind and water erosion are surreal. We did one short hike off the main road to something called Mouse's Hole (or something like that). It had been a hide out (presumably for someone named 'Mouse') and a place where water collects during the rare rains. It was only supposed to be a 1/2 mile hike round trip so we figured it would be pretty easy. We hadn't counted on it being 100 degrees and a mostly sand trail.
The actual water hole was anti-climatic. The most exciting part was a yellow snake having a swim. There were two guys already there watching the snake and who told us where to look. They thought the snake was 4-5 feet long. I told them that guys always overstate size and that it looked to be about 2.5 feet to me. Thankfully, I did not get pushed into the hole.
Along the way, we saw petroglyphs, chuckwallas (a kind of lizard) and some other kind of lizard. (Isn't it impressive enough that we know how to identify chuckwallas? We can't learn about all of them!)
Yesterday we went to Red Rock Canyon. I was on a hunt for big horned sheep but all we saw were a few chipmunks (which I, of course, renamed "little big horned sheep") and the rustling of some larger animal behind a tree. One of the remarkable things was the drop in temperature between the start of the trail and the end (of our little hike). It must have cooled down 20 degrees, which gave us a really comfortable hike until it started raining. I'm not sure if it rains there often, but there was a lot of greenery and most of the cacti were flowering.
Back on the consumer end of things, we explored the Aria hotel and casino this morning. The first thing you notice is that they must have a very high-end air filtration system. It barely smells smoky. The second thing you notice is that it's really beautiful. They've paid attention to the smallest details on the floors, walls and the ceilings. They even have art in the bathrooms - and in the individual stalls. You have to have a room key to get into the pool area but they let us walk around - it looked like the kind of place they use for movie sets. We also learned that to rent a cabana for the day was as much as our hotel is for the whole week. And all the plants and flowers we saw there were real. We were clearly out of our league.
The Valley of Fire is a state park just north of Las Vegas and just west of Lake Mead. The rocks are a serious shade of red and the shapes they've taken on from wind and water erosion are surreal. We did one short hike off the main road to something called Mouse's Hole (or something like that). It had been a hide out (presumably for someone named 'Mouse') and a place where water collects during the rare rains. It was only supposed to be a 1/2 mile hike round trip so we figured it would be pretty easy. We hadn't counted on it being 100 degrees and a mostly sand trail.
The actual water hole was anti-climatic. The most exciting part was a yellow snake having a swim. There were two guys already there watching the snake and who told us where to look. They thought the snake was 4-5 feet long. I told them that guys always overstate size and that it looked to be about 2.5 feet to me. Thankfully, I did not get pushed into the hole.
Along the way, we saw petroglyphs, chuckwallas (a kind of lizard) and some other kind of lizard. (Isn't it impressive enough that we know how to identify chuckwallas? We can't learn about all of them!)
Yesterday we went to Red Rock Canyon. I was on a hunt for big horned sheep but all we saw were a few chipmunks (which I, of course, renamed "little big horned sheep") and the rustling of some larger animal behind a tree. One of the remarkable things was the drop in temperature between the start of the trail and the end (of our little hike). It must have cooled down 20 degrees, which gave us a really comfortable hike until it started raining. I'm not sure if it rains there often, but there was a lot of greenery and most of the cacti were flowering.
Back on the consumer end of things, we explored the Aria hotel and casino this morning. The first thing you notice is that they must have a very high-end air filtration system. It barely smells smoky. The second thing you notice is that it's really beautiful. They've paid attention to the smallest details on the floors, walls and the ceilings. They even have art in the bathrooms - and in the individual stalls. You have to have a room key to get into the pool area but they let us walk around - it looked like the kind of place they use for movie sets. We also learned that to rent a cabana for the day was as much as our hotel is for the whole week. And all the plants and flowers we saw there were real. We were clearly out of our league.
Tuesday, June 07, 2011
Las Vegas...
The only word I can think to describe Las Vegas is 'profane'. It's a city of obscene excess. Of lights, food, noise, people. And natural beauty. The mountains surrounding the city are spectacular, as if to remind everyone that gambling and showgirls and timeshare presentations are not why they should really be visiting the city.
In every venue we've seen so far, people are normal looking. They aren't all (necessarily) beautiful or skinny or white. They appear (and sound) to be from all over the world. The only generalization that seems to hold is that older women smoking cigarettes seem to be over-represented at the slot machines.
Perhaps because it's so warm, people (the ones who aren't necessarily beautiful, skinny or white) have a lot of exposed skin, which means their tattoos are also exposed. I'm sure I've said this before, but again, I don't think I've ever seen as many tattoos. Full sleeves, up the neck, down the legs, around the torso.... And it's not just one small tattoo that you can see while they're at the pool. It's multiple tattoos whose places seem randomly chosen, and it's really not a pretty site.
There's a gimmick here I just don't get. There are people walking around with drinks in containers that are 36 inches long. They look like long thermometers with even longer straws. I've seen a few places that sell them and they cost about $36 for the drink and souvenir cup. What would possess someone to buy one of these. It's not like it will fit in your carryon!
We're staying in a place that has a Tahitian theme. It's a decent place with a bedroom, a bathroom that's too big and a living room/kitchenette. Yes, the couch is essentially in the kitchen. I hate that it only has one window (in the bedroom) that doesn't even open. It's fine for the week but for that last reason alone, I wouldn't stay in this type of room again. There are silk and plastic flowers and plants everywhere. I'm sure it has to do with the fact that water to support the real flowers and plants isn't naturally found here in the desert. My two cents - pick a different theme.
We walked into the Luxor yesterday. It's a huge pyramid shaped hotel. (If you're a fan of The Amazing Race, you saw them rappel down the side a few seasons ago.) Between the 2nd floor and the top of the pyramid it's an open atrium with rings of hotel rooms going all the way up the to the top. So I had to wonder, where are the elevators. It turns out - they don't have elevators. They have inclinators. What's an inclinator? It's an elevator that goes in a diagonal line up the corner of the pyramid. It's very Willy Wonka.
Wherever you look, there seem to be Oxygen Bars. I just don't get it.
Lastly, it's not actually as easy to find a decent place to eat as you would think it would be. Yes, there are buffets, but how much can you actually eat. And there are the famous restaurants, but they're pretty expensive. And there are casual and fast food places that are the same everywhere. Tonight we drove around longer than I'll publicly admit looking for something that was simple, not crazy expensive and not a chain we could find somewhere else. We found a deli-pizzaria (appropriately called Deli-ria) that fit the bill. It was run by an Iraqi who lived in Michigan the last 14 years and just moved to Las Vegas a year ago. Though there were prices for the sandwiches and salads on the menu, I asked for something that wasn't listed. Four bucks later I had a plate full of food - (tuna, tabouli and stuffed grape leaves for those who are curious).
What I do really like about Las Vegas is that you can literally just drive out of town into nowhere. All of the sudden, the street drops down to two lanes with a great view of mountains and nothing else. I'm not sure how far you have to be from the city of Chicago for that to happen.
In every venue we've seen so far, people are normal looking. They aren't all (necessarily) beautiful or skinny or white. They appear (and sound) to be from all over the world. The only generalization that seems to hold is that older women smoking cigarettes seem to be over-represented at the slot machines.
Perhaps because it's so warm, people (the ones who aren't necessarily beautiful, skinny or white) have a lot of exposed skin, which means their tattoos are also exposed. I'm sure I've said this before, but again, I don't think I've ever seen as many tattoos. Full sleeves, up the neck, down the legs, around the torso.... And it's not just one small tattoo that you can see while they're at the pool. It's multiple tattoos whose places seem randomly chosen, and it's really not a pretty site.
There's a gimmick here I just don't get. There are people walking around with drinks in containers that are 36 inches long. They look like long thermometers with even longer straws. I've seen a few places that sell them and they cost about $36 for the drink and souvenir cup. What would possess someone to buy one of these. It's not like it will fit in your carryon!
We're staying in a place that has a Tahitian theme. It's a decent place with a bedroom, a bathroom that's too big and a living room/kitchenette. Yes, the couch is essentially in the kitchen. I hate that it only has one window (in the bedroom) that doesn't even open. It's fine for the week but for that last reason alone, I wouldn't stay in this type of room again. There are silk and plastic flowers and plants everywhere. I'm sure it has to do with the fact that water to support the real flowers and plants isn't naturally found here in the desert. My two cents - pick a different theme.
We walked into the Luxor yesterday. It's a huge pyramid shaped hotel. (If you're a fan of The Amazing Race, you saw them rappel down the side a few seasons ago.) Between the 2nd floor and the top of the pyramid it's an open atrium with rings of hotel rooms going all the way up the to the top. So I had to wonder, where are the elevators. It turns out - they don't have elevators. They have inclinators. What's an inclinator? It's an elevator that goes in a diagonal line up the corner of the pyramid. It's very Willy Wonka.
Wherever you look, there seem to be Oxygen Bars. I just don't get it.
Lastly, it's not actually as easy to find a decent place to eat as you would think it would be. Yes, there are buffets, but how much can you actually eat. And there are the famous restaurants, but they're pretty expensive. And there are casual and fast food places that are the same everywhere. Tonight we drove around longer than I'll publicly admit looking for something that was simple, not crazy expensive and not a chain we could find somewhere else. We found a deli-pizzaria (appropriately called Deli-ria) that fit the bill. It was run by an Iraqi who lived in Michigan the last 14 years and just moved to Las Vegas a year ago. Though there were prices for the sandwiches and salads on the menu, I asked for something that wasn't listed. Four bucks later I had a plate full of food - (tuna, tabouli and stuffed grape leaves for those who are curious).
What I do really like about Las Vegas is that you can literally just drive out of town into nowhere. All of the sudden, the street drops down to two lanes with a great view of mountains and nothing else. I'm not sure how far you have to be from the city of Chicago for that to happen.
Saturday, April 09, 2011
What Would John Quinones Do?
There's a show on television that I don't think I've ever seen outside of their promos called "What Would You Do?" hosted by John Quinones. It stages scenes and finds out how ordinary people react (or don't). Sort of like Candid Camera but not funny. We're in St. Louis and specifically waited until we crossed from Illinois to refill our gas tank. Gas in Chicago is about $4/gallon and here in St. Louis things are about $3.65. So yesterday afternoon (well after crossing the border on Thursday night), we stopped to get gas. The price on the big sign out front said $3.65. Ronnie started pumping the gas and a few minutes in, asked me to get out of the car and look at the screen on the pump. With 7 gallons or so in, it read just under $19. That didn't seem right. And then he pointed down and showed me that the gas was ringing up at $2.65. I turned around and walked into the shop to let them know that they were losing a lot of money. I said to the woman behind the counter (quietly because I didn't want to incur too much wrath from the other customers!) that the gas that we'd expected to pay $3.65 for rang up at $2.65. She asked if we'd bought a car wash. I said no, repeated my first statement and left. Before I even got back out to the car, the pumps were changed. While I'd been inside, Ronnie found out it hadn't just been our pump. I imagine that many people just put in a credit card, filled their tank and didn't really think about the lower than expected number. And I would guess that others had noticed and not said anything (and probably called their friends and family). We didn't stop filling our tank when we realized the error and we didn't offer to pay the difference. We also didn't consider not telling the station. What would you have done? What would John Quinones have done?
Monday, March 14, 2011
Things I've Thought About Blogging About But Haven't Had Time For...
Finding a Dentist through Yelp
Why Salsa is a Good Addition to Other Foods
Surprisingly - Good Kosher Pizza isn't an Oxymoron
More on the Lazyman Triathlon
Why Salsa is a Good Addition to Other Foods
Surprisingly - Good Kosher Pizza isn't an Oxymoron
More on the Lazyman Triathlon
Monday, February 28, 2011
Mexico....
So I flew back from Mexico this morning and boy are my arms tired!
The culture at an all-inclusive resort is an interesting one. I would assume that it varies from place to place, but that the basics are always there.
First, there are no straws. You can always tell someone who has been to a place like this before because they have a straw. And that straw is usually in a 64oz (or larger) thermal container in which they keep their frozen beverage cold. They may as well have just had an IV bag. I saw bartenders pouring an entire blender’s worth of drinks into one container (that was not about to be shared!). And, since Mimi Rozmaryn wasn’t around, I couldn’t exactly borrow a straw….
Second, if you want a good chair, you wake up early and save one. The prime spots, whether on the beach, near the pool, in the shade are taken by 6:30am, at the latest. One morning I went downstairs at 5:30am. The sun was just starting to rise and the world was quiet. And then, at 5:45am, just as the sun was up, people came scurrying out like roaches with towels, books, and bags to save their places. And then they went back in to sleep for a few more hours until they were ready to face the day. It was fascinating.
When we first checked in, we were directed to the concierge desk who told us how to navigate the property – using the towel card, making dinner reservations, etc. He introduced himself, asked our names, and then asked us (me and my sister-in-law) if we were married. I thought to myself, “Wow, for a predominantly Catholic country, what a progressive question to be asking us!” I was about to answer ‘no’, when Lori said, “Yes”, paused, and then added, “but not to each other.” We tried to explain our reactions to Jorge but I’m not sure he thought it was as interesting/funny as we did.
Our resort had an enormous number of staff people. It’s not possible that they were all named Jorge, Jesus and Roberto. But by looking at their nametags, those were the only three possibilities. I figure that either they are all relatives, named after the same ancestors, or their real names are things like Jason and Spencer and they were trying to seem more authentic. Or maybe the label maker was lazy.
When you go to a place where there’s nothing to do, it’s easy to spend time speculating about things like this. I actually thought it would be hard to do nothing for four days, and for the first few hours, it was. And then, it got really, really easy.
I imagine that there are inappropriately dressed people at nearly every beach or pool in the world. In the case of our resort, this generally had nothing to do with the size of the person or their swimwear, (though there were a few people who looked like they belonged at the hotel pools in Tiberius, if you know what I mean). Mostly this had to do with people not dressing for their body type or age. Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t think any 50 year-old woman should be wearing a bikini she bought in the Juniors department, even if it fits. Yes, I am judgemental. That should come as no surprise to anyone who actually knows me.
When so many people have so much skin showing, you do see a lot of tattoos. I was surprised by the number of skulls, grim reapers and other death-related things there were. And these didn’t look like “memorial” tattoos for friends or family. I also saw a man sporting a huge alien head on the back of his leg.
We saw a nice wedding on the beach with more bridesmaids and groomsmen than I’ve ever seen. All schvitzing away in the sun. I think what people don’t think about when they plan their destination wedding is that there may be kayakers, parasailers, and the tattooed, inappropriately dressed people all nearby and inevitably in their pictures. Oh well.
I was told numerous times not to drink the water in Mexico. But if you don’t drink the water, you can’t drink the coffee, and since this was a vacation, coffee was non-negotiable. The other non-negotiable were blender drinks, mainly because it was crazy hot outside. It took a day, but we learned how to order. First, you watch the bar tender make something that looks good (really, they all look good) and ask, “What is that?” He says something you either understand (Coco Loco, Mango Tango) or something you don’t. Either way, you say, “I’ll take one of those.” Mainly it allowed us to try things we never would have known to ask for, and I still never found out what the blue thing was called….
I got some sun but not too much. I do have slight ‘owl eyes” from wearing my sunglasses. The good news was that I remembered to bring sun glasses. I also read a few books – including one called “Still Life” by Melissa Milgrom which was all about taxidermy. Seriously. And it was good. (Thanks, Rachel Gurshman!) Helene Moses lent me “Animal, Vegetable, Miracle” by Barbara Kingsolver and came home and signed up for a CSA. She also gave me “The Agony and the Ecstasy” almost a year ago but I didn’t quite get to that one yet.
There are no pictures of me or sister-in-law in Mexico. It’s always safer that way. I did not learn Spanish, parasail, or get my hair braided. I did nothing.
The culture at an all-inclusive resort is an interesting one. I would assume that it varies from place to place, but that the basics are always there.
First, there are no straws. You can always tell someone who has been to a place like this before because they have a straw. And that straw is usually in a 64oz (or larger) thermal container in which they keep their frozen beverage cold. They may as well have just had an IV bag. I saw bartenders pouring an entire blender’s worth of drinks into one container (that was not about to be shared!). And, since Mimi Rozmaryn wasn’t around, I couldn’t exactly borrow a straw….
Second, if you want a good chair, you wake up early and save one. The prime spots, whether on the beach, near the pool, in the shade are taken by 6:30am, at the latest. One morning I went downstairs at 5:30am. The sun was just starting to rise and the world was quiet. And then, at 5:45am, just as the sun was up, people came scurrying out like roaches with towels, books, and bags to save their places. And then they went back in to sleep for a few more hours until they were ready to face the day. It was fascinating.
When we first checked in, we were directed to the concierge desk who told us how to navigate the property – using the towel card, making dinner reservations, etc. He introduced himself, asked our names, and then asked us (me and my sister-in-law) if we were married. I thought to myself, “Wow, for a predominantly Catholic country, what a progressive question to be asking us!” I was about to answer ‘no’, when Lori said, “Yes”, paused, and then added, “but not to each other.” We tried to explain our reactions to Jorge but I’m not sure he thought it was as interesting/funny as we did.
Our resort had an enormous number of staff people. It’s not possible that they were all named Jorge, Jesus and Roberto. But by looking at their nametags, those were the only three possibilities. I figure that either they are all relatives, named after the same ancestors, or their real names are things like Jason and Spencer and they were trying to seem more authentic. Or maybe the label maker was lazy.
When you go to a place where there’s nothing to do, it’s easy to spend time speculating about things like this. I actually thought it would be hard to do nothing for four days, and for the first few hours, it was. And then, it got really, really easy.
I imagine that there are inappropriately dressed people at nearly every beach or pool in the world. In the case of our resort, this generally had nothing to do with the size of the person or their swimwear, (though there were a few people who looked like they belonged at the hotel pools in Tiberius, if you know what I mean). Mostly this had to do with people not dressing for their body type or age. Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t think any 50 year-old woman should be wearing a bikini she bought in the Juniors department, even if it fits. Yes, I am judgemental. That should come as no surprise to anyone who actually knows me.
When so many people have so much skin showing, you do see a lot of tattoos. I was surprised by the number of skulls, grim reapers and other death-related things there were. And these didn’t look like “memorial” tattoos for friends or family. I also saw a man sporting a huge alien head on the back of his leg.
We saw a nice wedding on the beach with more bridesmaids and groomsmen than I’ve ever seen. All schvitzing away in the sun. I think what people don’t think about when they plan their destination wedding is that there may be kayakers, parasailers, and the tattooed, inappropriately dressed people all nearby and inevitably in their pictures. Oh well.
I was told numerous times not to drink the water in Mexico. But if you don’t drink the water, you can’t drink the coffee, and since this was a vacation, coffee was non-negotiable. The other non-negotiable were blender drinks, mainly because it was crazy hot outside. It took a day, but we learned how to order. First, you watch the bar tender make something that looks good (really, they all look good) and ask, “What is that?” He says something you either understand (Coco Loco, Mango Tango) or something you don’t. Either way, you say, “I’ll take one of those.” Mainly it allowed us to try things we never would have known to ask for, and I still never found out what the blue thing was called….
I got some sun but not too much. I do have slight ‘owl eyes” from wearing my sunglasses. The good news was that I remembered to bring sun glasses. I also read a few books – including one called “Still Life” by Melissa Milgrom which was all about taxidermy. Seriously. And it was good. (Thanks, Rachel Gurshman!) Helene Moses lent me “Animal, Vegetable, Miracle” by Barbara Kingsolver and came home and signed up for a CSA. She also gave me “The Agony and the Ecstasy” almost a year ago but I didn’t quite get to that one yet.
There are no pictures of me or sister-in-law in Mexico. It’s always safer that way. I did not learn Spanish, parasail, or get my hair braided. I did nothing.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Saved Three Lives Before 11am - You?
I went to a blood drive yesterday and was told that each pint of blood can save three lives. I'm not really sure how that works, but if saving one life is good, saving three has to be "gooder", right?
It was actually an interesting experience. They had a bloodmobile, like the bookmobiles of long ago, only smaller. How could a bookmobile get any smaller? I don't know, but if you see the LifeSource Blood Mobile tooling around, you'll know. And how they cram two offices, one confessional, four blood letting stations and a snack bar into such a small space, I still don't understand. And there's a choreography that goes with it all.
I was the third person in that morning, and the first two were still waiting to start the process. The waiting room consisted of the stairs on the inside of the entrance. There are three stairs. First, you head into the confessional (there were two doors, one for the nurse, one for the donor, but what you couldn't see from the outside was the table in between them for the confidential screening interview). Having never been in a Catholic confessional, I confess to being somewhat disappointed that there was a nurse inside and not a priest, mainly because that would have been interesting.
Then, you head into one of the offices to get your blood pressure taken, pulse counted and iron checked. The office includes a seat next to a tiny desk, and a stool under the desk for the nurse. There is no room to even take my coat off, much less a place to put it, which is a problem since they need my arm to take my vital signs. I had a pulse and so they moved me to the blood letting table.
The nurse tells me (and I hear her tell others after me) that I can turn away if I don't want to watch the needle enter my arm. It doesn't bother me, but it strikes me as odd that someone wouldn't automatically know that they could close their eyes or look at the wall for a minute. Three times in the next 90 seconds she asks me if I'm okay. I assure her that I'm not going to faint.
15 minutes later, I've saved three lives and head to the snack room, which is really just the front seat of the bloodmobile. And because this drive was taking place in the parking lot of Whole Foods, there are only healthy snacks. After giving blood a person needs chips and oreos, not raisins and apple juice. Next time I'll hit the blood drive at YMCA!
It was actually an interesting experience. They had a bloodmobile, like the bookmobiles of long ago, only smaller. How could a bookmobile get any smaller? I don't know, but if you see the LifeSource Blood Mobile tooling around, you'll know. And how they cram two offices, one confessional, four blood letting stations and a snack bar into such a small space, I still don't understand. And there's a choreography that goes with it all.
I was the third person in that morning, and the first two were still waiting to start the process. The waiting room consisted of the stairs on the inside of the entrance. There are three stairs. First, you head into the confessional (there were two doors, one for the nurse, one for the donor, but what you couldn't see from the outside was the table in between them for the confidential screening interview). Having never been in a Catholic confessional, I confess to being somewhat disappointed that there was a nurse inside and not a priest, mainly because that would have been interesting.
Then, you head into one of the offices to get your blood pressure taken, pulse counted and iron checked. The office includes a seat next to a tiny desk, and a stool under the desk for the nurse. There is no room to even take my coat off, much less a place to put it, which is a problem since they need my arm to take my vital signs. I had a pulse and so they moved me to the blood letting table.
The nurse tells me (and I hear her tell others after me) that I can turn away if I don't want to watch the needle enter my arm. It doesn't bother me, but it strikes me as odd that someone wouldn't automatically know that they could close their eyes or look at the wall for a minute. Three times in the next 90 seconds she asks me if I'm okay. I assure her that I'm not going to faint.
15 minutes later, I've saved three lives and head to the snack room, which is really just the front seat of the bloodmobile. And because this drive was taking place in the parking lot of Whole Foods, there are only healthy snacks. After giving blood a person needs chips and oreos, not raisins and apple juice. Next time I'll hit the blood drive at YMCA!
Sunday, December 26, 2010
More Reasons to Enjoy MKE
There is nothing good about getting up before 5am. Nothing. Never. But what makes it incrementally better is flying out of Milwaukee, drinking Alterra coffee, and getting upgraded on Airtran. That, and a tastier than expected breakfast burrito from the aforementioned Alterra. Actually, any one of those things would suffice, but all four is a home run.
The upgrade gave me a seat next to the congresswoman representing Milwaukee. She told me that she hadn’t been planning on heading back to DC that day and so her granddaughter had brought her some clothes to wear for the trip. I didn’t understand that since theoretically she has closets of clothes in both cities, but since she doesn’t actually represent me, I didn’t feel obligated to figure this out. I did however notice that the zipper on her pants was held up by a safety pin and her sweater was dirty, so I did give her the benefit of the doubt that she might not have chosen those clothes for herself. And if she did, well, let’s just say that it’s good thing that I’m no longer a constituent.
She told me she’s going to be the new chair of the Women’s Caucus so I gave her a book recommendation (A Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood) and in a few weeks, I think I'm going to follow up with her to see if she's read it.
Oh, and did I mention the free wifi this month on Airtran? Bonus!
The upgrade gave me a seat next to the congresswoman representing Milwaukee. She told me that she hadn’t been planning on heading back to DC that day and so her granddaughter had brought her some clothes to wear for the trip. I didn’t understand that since theoretically she has closets of clothes in both cities, but since she doesn’t actually represent me, I didn’t feel obligated to figure this out. I did however notice that the zipper on her pants was held up by a safety pin and her sweater was dirty, so I did give her the benefit of the doubt that she might not have chosen those clothes for herself. And if she did, well, let’s just say that it’s good thing that I’m no longer a constituent.
She told me she’s going to be the new chair of the Women’s Caucus so I gave her a book recommendation (A Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood) and in a few weeks, I think I'm going to follow up with her to see if she's read it.
Oh, and did I mention the free wifi this month on Airtran? Bonus!
Greek-Orthodox Chanukah
One thing that can be said about the Greek-Orthodox Chanukah party is that there was plenty of food, Greek and otherwise. And there were some leftovers, but really, not that much, unless you count an extra gallon of green beans, 10 stuffed potatoes, 12 stuffed peppers and a 9x9 pan of spanikopita. And homemade hummus and vegetables. And peanut butter-cayenne cookies (aka ‘kickies’). Okay, there weren’t really that many cookies left. And given how many olives we started with, there are really not so many of those left either. I did learn that six pounds of green beans is about 3.5 pounds too many to make for 25 people.
The hummus alone was an adventure and actually, quite delicious. It was, shall we say, rustic. My friend Dennis told me to use a ricer. Basically, they are gigantic garlic presses, and I don’t actually have one of those, either. And even if I did, it would have taken too long to go through four cans of garbanzo beans. But I figured I could look for a ricer in the store, just to check them out. I quickly decided that it’s crazy to spend $20 on something I don’t actually need for anything else. (The Alton Brown rule that the only unitasker in the kitchen should be the fire extinguisher.) My Cuisinart mini-prep was too small. The blender didn’t like the combination of beans and tahini. And the immersion blender worked, but had to be unclogged too often. So whatever was mushed up by the time that I got tired of dealing with it all was mushed. And whatever wasn’t, wasn’t. Hence the ‘rustic’.
No, we did not light a chanukiah, much to my dismay. I was prepared to do so on the original date of the party (the 11th night of Chanuka) but by the 19th, I thought it might be considered a bit excessive.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Greek Orthodox Chanukah
We had hoped to have Ronnie's family over during Chanukah. It didn't work out. Really, it was more like herding cats than planning a party. No one was available at the same time on any day. So we planned a gathering for the 11th night of the festival and assumed that we'd jerryrig a menorah.
That didn't work out either.
Fast forward to the heretofore unknown 19th day of Chanukah, and everyone is coming. And then some. But, because the party is really a week after the original planned gathering, we decided that it would be more of a Greek Orthodox Chanukah.
We're serving Greek food. Yes, we are fully aware that the Greeks were not the heroes in the story. But Hasmonean food has never been known to be at all delicious, and, well, Greek food is.
And for the record, there will not be saganaki.
That didn't work out either.
Fast forward to the heretofore unknown 19th day of Chanukah, and everyone is coming. And then some. But, because the party is really a week after the original planned gathering, we decided that it would be more of a Greek Orthodox Chanukah.
We're serving Greek food. Yes, we are fully aware that the Greeks were not the heroes in the story. But Hasmonean food has never been known to be at all delicious, and, well, Greek food is.
And for the record, there will not be saganaki.
Thursday, December 02, 2010
Spinning
As I said before, I've never been one to bow to peer pressure. Unless brownies were involved. But most of the time they aren't, so it's not a problem. But a few weeks ago, when I started this Couch to 5k program, I must have also signed up for a free subscription to peer pressure. It's probably good for me in this case (unlike the brownies), but just to be clear, I don't like it.
Tonight, after we ran (and you know when I say "run", I really mean a slow jog, right?), I was told that we're going to spin this weekend after our next run. We are?!
I've been to two spinning classes in my life. At the first one, my only goal was to sit on the bike and pedal until the class was over. I didn't worry about changing the resistance, standing up to pedal or going nowhere ridiculously fast. And mainly, I was afraid of what the instructor would do if I left early. I watched every single second tick away on the clock. And I think my alternate personality went to the second class because for the life of me, I cannot figure out why I would have returned.
I'm still not convinced I'll survive another day of running much less a spin class, but at least I'll know who to blame when I can't sit down for a week.
P.S. Lest you think I've turned into a gym rat, I have not. I don't own any "performance gear", still use a water bottle that won't fit into any of the cup holders, and have yet to find the joy in sweating.
Tonight, after we ran (and you know when I say "run", I really mean a slow jog, right?), I was told that we're going to spin this weekend after our next run. We are?!
I've been to two spinning classes in my life. At the first one, my only goal was to sit on the bike and pedal until the class was over. I didn't worry about changing the resistance, standing up to pedal or going nowhere ridiculously fast. And mainly, I was afraid of what the instructor would do if I left early. I watched every single second tick away on the clock. And I think my alternate personality went to the second class because for the life of me, I cannot figure out why I would have returned.
I'm still not convinced I'll survive another day of running much less a spin class, but at least I'll know who to blame when I can't sit down for a week.
P.S. Lest you think I've turned into a gym rat, I have not. I don't own any "performance gear", still use a water bottle that won't fit into any of the cup holders, and have yet to find the joy in sweating.
Wednesday, December 01, 2010
Stoup
It's true. I admit it. I confess.
I made "stoup" from a Rachael Ray recipe. I'm not sure if I actually saw this show, (and if I did, it was a while ago), or if I just stumbled upon the recipe, but I tried it and have decided it's a winter winner. It's called Stuffed Cabbage Stoup and though I'm not sure I've ever eaten traditional stuffed cabbage, I think this could accurately be described as stuffed cabbage deconstructed.
But of course I made it vegetarian which is good because I'm not known for following recipes so exactly. It turns out I didn't have coriander or allspice. Go figure that I did have smoked paprika - which is good because I'm pretty sure that it is what makes it all so good. And I don't use white rice so I used brown. And I didn't have any fresh parsley or dill so I used one of those frozen cubes that come in handy when you don't have any fresh dill at the beginning of December.
And I used garlic powder instead of fresh garlic. I know - it's a sacrilege. I should get double credit for having smoked paprika, okay? And then she calls for using 1/2 to 3/4 of a cabbage. What did she think I was going to do with 1/4 of a cabbage? I took a risk and used it all.
The biggest problem with the recipe is that it makes enough for a small army and I just don't have that many bowls.
I made "stoup" from a Rachael Ray recipe. I'm not sure if I actually saw this show, (and if I did, it was a while ago), or if I just stumbled upon the recipe, but I tried it and have decided it's a winter winner. It's called Stuffed Cabbage Stoup and though I'm not sure I've ever eaten traditional stuffed cabbage, I think this could accurately be described as stuffed cabbage deconstructed.
But of course I made it vegetarian which is good because I'm not known for following recipes so exactly. It turns out I didn't have coriander or allspice. Go figure that I did have smoked paprika - which is good because I'm pretty sure that it is what makes it all so good. And I don't use white rice so I used brown. And I didn't have any fresh parsley or dill so I used one of those frozen cubes that come in handy when you don't have any fresh dill at the beginning of December.
And I used garlic powder instead of fresh garlic. I know - it's a sacrilege. I should get double credit for having smoked paprika, okay? And then she calls for using 1/2 to 3/4 of a cabbage. What did she think I was going to do with 1/4 of a cabbage? I took a risk and used it all.
The biggest problem with the recipe is that it makes enough for a small army and I just don't have that many bowls.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Me and the Couch to 5k
For the last five weeks I've been participating in a Couch to 5k program. Basically, it's designed to take people from sitting on the couch to running 5 kilometers (3.1 miles). There's an irony here though, because I don't actually believe in running unless there's a fire, or a bear, or maybe a tornado.. Essentially, it's against my religion. But, like riding a motorcycle and shooting a gun, I think it's an important life skill. You know, just in case.
So I started the program with three women from Boot Camp (a whole different story for another day). The overall program is about intervals of running and walking. The first day was 60 second runs followed by 90 second walks. Or maybe vice versa, but there were 8 run/walk intervals and I thought I was going to die.
As I am still writing some five plus weeks later, I clearly did not die.
This week, week five (but really week six because we did week four twice) is where things get much more difficult and I have not given up the possibility that this will be the week I meet my maker. I am not looking forward to the experience.
And here's the thing, were it not for peer pressure, I could quit. Peer pressure has never really gotten to me, so this is a totally new phenomenon. Basically, there is one woman who I told to join the little band of former couch potatoes and if I quit, she'll kill me. So either I die running, or I die not running.
All I know, is that once I finish this program, I better encounter a bear. Or a tornado.
So I started the program with three women from Boot Camp (a whole different story for another day). The overall program is about intervals of running and walking. The first day was 60 second runs followed by 90 second walks. Or maybe vice versa, but there were 8 run/walk intervals and I thought I was going to die.
As I am still writing some five plus weeks later, I clearly did not die.
This week, week five (but really week six because we did week four twice) is where things get much more difficult and I have not given up the possibility that this will be the week I meet my maker. I am not looking forward to the experience.
And here's the thing, were it not for peer pressure, I could quit. Peer pressure has never really gotten to me, so this is a totally new phenomenon. Basically, there is one woman who I told to join the little band of former couch potatoes and if I quit, she'll kill me. So either I die running, or I die not running.
All I know, is that once I finish this program, I better encounter a bear. Or a tornado.
Friday, August 06, 2010
Monday, July 26, 2010
Boot Camp
When I don't feel like I'll spend more than 10 minutes on the elliptical machine at the gym, I go to a class. Last Thursday, I decided to try Boot Camp. What possessed me, I don't know. As we were waiting for the earlier class to finish in our room, I asked the teacher if I was going to die during the class. He looked at me and said, "Unlikely." Those weren't the odds that I was hoping to hear.
It was by far the hardest class I've been to. At one point, he suggested he was going to get oxygen tanks for us, and one woman said, "What he isn't saying is that we don't get to use them - we have to carry them!" I was sore for days. Maybe until this morning.
So tonight I went back. I know, crazy. I walked into the gym and the instructor was waiting by the front desk to tell us that class tonight would be up on the track. Now why he assumed I was coming back for that class and not going to water aerobics I don't know. But he happened to be correct.
The problem is that 'track' implies running. And I don't believe in running unless there is a fire or certified emergency that requires me to move that quickly. So I'm thinking I should go home and get my swimsuit. But I don't.
There are 8 of us in the class tonight. We warm up with things like jumping jacks, push-ups, and lunges. And then he makes us run around the track. Honestly, it's a small track and even I think I can run that far. But again, it's against my religion. It would be like mixing meat and milk. Or wearing cotton and linen together. Or profaning the Sabbath. Unfortunately, I'm a vegetarian and otherwise not so observant. But I digress.
The thing about a class is that there's peer pressure. So when you're running in two rows of four around the track, you have to keep up. Especially when there are other people there who look like they can't run half that far. It's a dilemma. But I ran. I didn't like it and I had to pretend there was a serial killer behind me, but I ran.
Knowing now that I won't die and that the worst that will happen is taht I'll be unable to move without wincing means that I feel safe going to class again on Thursday... as long as there won't be running.
It was by far the hardest class I've been to. At one point, he suggested he was going to get oxygen tanks for us, and one woman said, "What he isn't saying is that we don't get to use them - we have to carry them!" I was sore for days. Maybe until this morning.
So tonight I went back. I know, crazy. I walked into the gym and the instructor was waiting by the front desk to tell us that class tonight would be up on the track. Now why he assumed I was coming back for that class and not going to water aerobics I don't know. But he happened to be correct.
The problem is that 'track' implies running. And I don't believe in running unless there is a fire or certified emergency that requires me to move that quickly. So I'm thinking I should go home and get my swimsuit. But I don't.
There are 8 of us in the class tonight. We warm up with things like jumping jacks, push-ups, and lunges. And then he makes us run around the track. Honestly, it's a small track and even I think I can run that far. But again, it's against my religion. It would be like mixing meat and milk. Or wearing cotton and linen together. Or profaning the Sabbath. Unfortunately, I'm a vegetarian and otherwise not so observant. But I digress.
The thing about a class is that there's peer pressure. So when you're running in two rows of four around the track, you have to keep up. Especially when there are other people there who look like they can't run half that far. It's a dilemma. But I ran. I didn't like it and I had to pretend there was a serial killer behind me, but I ran.
Knowing now that I won't die and that the worst that will happen is taht I'll be unable to move without wincing means that I feel safe going to class again on Thursday... as long as there won't be running.
Mug Shots and a Painted Kitchen
Our kitchen is finally repainted. It's a Martha Stewart color called Lemongrass, but I'm sure other paint companies would call it Asparagus, or Leaf, or Just on the Mint Side of Pistachio. For an amateur job, it looks great. We figured out toward the end that there's wall paper underneath what now must be at least three layers of paint. Maybe in 10 years we'll strip it all and paint again. Bonus, we didn't get paint on the cabinets, stove or refrigerator. And we did find out, despite taping in advance, that paint does come off of granite pretty easily. Good thing.
On a completely unrelated note. I'm vaguely fascinated by the mug shots that are published in the Chicago Tribune. I'm not sure how often they are updated - I probably only see them once every few weeks or so. But when I do, I flip through them all. It's also hard to believe that they thought it was appropriate to go outside looking the way they did that day. I mean, really, did you honestly think that was an attractive look? This is actually from a big case here in Chicago which I didn't realize when I was first flipping through the pictures.
Once I was in an antique store in Evanston and they had mug shots from the 20's on sale. The front were sepia pictures and the back had the alleged crimes. At the time, I couldn't see spending $5 each on them, but in retrospect, they would have made an interesting look on a wall, maybe near the family pictures. I did go back to the store about a week later and was told they'd all been scooped up by a woman who wanted to use them for her Christmas cards. Clearly I wasn't on her list.
On a completely unrelated note. I'm vaguely fascinated by the mug shots that are published in the Chicago Tribune. I'm not sure how often they are updated - I probably only see them once every few weeks or so. But when I do, I flip through them all. It's also hard to believe that they thought it was appropriate to go outside looking the way they did that day. I mean, really, did you honestly think that was an attractive look? This is actually from a big case here in Chicago which I didn't realize when I was first flipping through the pictures.
Once I was in an antique store in Evanston and they had mug shots from the 20's on sale. The front were sepia pictures and the back had the alleged crimes. At the time, I couldn't see spending $5 each on them, but in retrospect, they would have made an interesting look on a wall, maybe near the family pictures. I did go back to the store about a week later and was told they'd all been scooped up by a woman who wanted to use them for her Christmas cards. Clearly I wasn't on her list.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
The Sound of Music
It's a great musical, we all know that. Last night, spur of the moment, we went to the Wilmette Park District's Starlight Theater production of The Sound of Music. I know the person playing the Mother Superior (although it's actually a different title) and I know she's very talented, but I still figured, it's a park distric play, how good could it possibly be?
It was great! Costumes, set, actors - it was pretty impressive and there were a few hundred people in the audience for this final show after a three week run. They had some problems with the individual microphones for a few actors but they'd also mentioned before the show that they were glad to be going on after being rained out the night before and having to rebuild their sound board, so everyone was pretty forgiving. There was one actor who, frankly, wasn't so great, and sadly, his mike did work while Max's frequently cut out, and he was great. Oh well.
There were two songs I didn't remember, and at least one song from the movie that wasn't included. I didn't miss it from the nearly three hour show (including intermission). The biggest disappointment of the whole show, it would have been unseemly to sing along (which still didn't stop one of the women I was with!).
There were at least five Jewish nuns and a few Jewish Nazis and stormtroopers. I also appreciated that they took their armbands off for their curtain call. I'm assuming they didn't have to learn that the hard way.
It was great! Costumes, set, actors - it was pretty impressive and there were a few hundred people in the audience for this final show after a three week run. They had some problems with the individual microphones for a few actors but they'd also mentioned before the show that they were glad to be going on after being rained out the night before and having to rebuild their sound board, so everyone was pretty forgiving. There was one actor who, frankly, wasn't so great, and sadly, his mike did work while Max's frequently cut out, and he was great. Oh well.
There were two songs I didn't remember, and at least one song from the movie that wasn't included. I didn't miss it from the nearly three hour show (including intermission). The biggest disappointment of the whole show, it would have been unseemly to sing along (which still didn't stop one of the women I was with!).
There were at least five Jewish nuns and a few Jewish Nazis and stormtroopers. I also appreciated that they took their armbands off for their curtain call. I'm assuming they didn't have to learn that the hard way.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
I Know Really, Really Funny People
I'm not sure how, but it turns out that I know some really funny people. And ironically, the one who is a professional comedian, isn't even close to the funniest on a regular day-to-day basis. (But he is the only one willing to get up on stage and then, he's very, very funny.)
The upside is that they send me funny things. Earlier this week, one of them sent me to this website to watch a movie trailer. Really, there just aren't words. But the same person sent me the trailer for the new Israeli film called A Matter of Size. So he can't be all bad, right?
Several of them are funny writers. They just don't write enough, or they write things that aren't also funny. Who needs that?! One of them accidentally wears two different shoes on a more regular basis than she should. Another one agrees to consider rooming hundreds of students alphabetically by first name. All different types of funny - it's good.
I've found that the only problem with hanging out with funny people is that when I'm with them, or corresponding with them, I don't feel as funny, and I think I generally am kind of funny. So I'm left with either being funny by myself (boring) or spending time with people who aren't as funny, and that's just dumb. Hmmm.
The upside is that they send me funny things. Earlier this week, one of them sent me to this website to watch a movie trailer. Really, there just aren't words. But the same person sent me the trailer for the new Israeli film called A Matter of Size. So he can't be all bad, right?
Several of them are funny writers. They just don't write enough, or they write things that aren't also funny. Who needs that?! One of them accidentally wears two different shoes on a more regular basis than she should. Another one agrees to consider rooming hundreds of students alphabetically by first name. All different types of funny - it's good.
I've found that the only problem with hanging out with funny people is that when I'm with them, or corresponding with them, I don't feel as funny, and I think I generally am kind of funny. So I'm left with either being funny by myself (boring) or spending time with people who aren't as funny, and that's just dumb. Hmmm.
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