Saturday, February 16, 2008
Thursday, February 07, 2008
Miracles do happen
I witnessed an inspiring scenario last night at church. There was a little boy there, maybe 4 or 5 years old, who came to the adult class with his dad. For the entire hour lecture, he was the best behaved little boy I have ever seen! He alternated between playing on top of, in front of, and underneath his own chair, but never intruded into anyone else's space. He only left the room once to go to the bathroom. He never spoke a word, even to his dad, but entertained himself the whole time with--get this--two plastic drinking straws.
As a future parent, I am a little bit troubled at the growing acceptance among parents of the idea that Gameboys and TV are the only ways to get kids to be still and quiet. I was inspired by this child who could be completely occupied with such primitive instruments of amusement.
As a future parent, I am a little bit troubled at the growing acceptance among parents of the idea that Gameboys and TV are the only ways to get kids to be still and quiet. I was inspired by this child who could be completely occupied with such primitive instruments of amusement.
Monday, February 04, 2008
Empty Calories, Empty Promises
A dietitian came to speak to our classes last week, and while I don't think my kids walked away with any new convictions, I left the assembly feeling like a walking lump of lard. The articulate, trim nutritionist impressed upon us all the waste of empty calories, inspired us with visions of bodies nourished by organic, vitamin-rich, non-processed foods, and shamed us with statistics about current American gluttony (average consumption of 150 pounds of sugar per year, up from 2 pounds 100 years ago). I walked away intimidated and inspired by the new science which recommends that all American eat nine, yes NINE servings of fruit and vegetables daily. Egad!
So that night I went to the grocery store to stock up on some nutritious snack foods. I was reminded again of why I have not embraced this habit sooner- yikes! Fresh food is expensive! So I bought some apples and bananas and called it a good start.
While I was there I remembered that I needed to get some groceries for our Superbowl party. So I added chips, cookies, candy, dip, and frozen appetizers. It was not long before my good start was buried beneath the Doritos and cheese sticks!
I vowed to re-commit myself to healthy living on Monday after the Superbowl. But today, we still have lots of leftovers from the weekend's festivities, and I can't justify wasting perfectly good food. Maybe next week...
So that night I went to the grocery store to stock up on some nutritious snack foods. I was reminded again of why I have not embraced this habit sooner- yikes! Fresh food is expensive! So I bought some apples and bananas and called it a good start.
While I was there I remembered that I needed to get some groceries for our Superbowl party. So I added chips, cookies, candy, dip, and frozen appetizers. It was not long before my good start was buried beneath the Doritos and cheese sticks!
I vowed to re-commit myself to healthy living on Monday after the Superbowl. But today, we still have lots of leftovers from the weekend's festivities, and I can't justify wasting perfectly good food. Maybe next week...
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Back on the Exercise Ball
In fulfillment of my New Year's resolutions, I have been attending Pilates class for two weeks. The first time I tried to go to class, the instructor no-showed. Undaunted, I came back the following week.
I had been mistaken on the time the class started, so I showed up halfway through the workout routine. I started to turn around and leave, but the instructor encouraged me to stay. In fact, everyone stopped and waited for me to get my equipment out and settled. One older lady, Kay, recognized me from when I had been part of the class last year. She was laying on her mat with her head near my feet.
"When was the last time you were here?" she asked suspiciously, tipping her head back to look at me upside-down.
I admitted that I hadn't been in Pilates since Spring Break. Feeling the need to explain myself, I rambled on about switching to the aerobics class for heart health, and then quitting that to do Tae-Bo videos at school and take walks with Karen around our neighborhood. By the time I finished relating my exercise exploits to these women who had never left Pilates to begin with, I felt like Gomer explaining herself to Hosea.
Kay shifted back on her mat, and we began to do large leg circles. However, in the middle of the set, she craned her neck once more.
"Well, welcome back. Are you going to be faithful to the class this time?"
I honestly can't remember what I said, although I'm sure it was something hopefully affirmative, but I do remember being intensely interested in my leg exercises. How embarrassing to be called out on my exercise commitment-phobia by a sixty-five year old woman!
So, needless to say, I have been faithfully attending class on Tuesdays and Thursdays since. The class attendance has dwindled since the last time I was a participant, down to the point that there is not even a regular instructor. So it's me, Kay, and another sexagenarian named Pat conducting our own Pilates independent study course.
We meet on the fourth floor of our exercise facility, and Pat counts out our reps while Kay cracks us all up with her blunt and forceful opinions on all topics. My favorite so far is, "Men with families should not ride motorcycles. If a man with a wife or kids were to die in a crash, that would be so inconsiderate. Unless he had like two million dollars in life insurance."
I had been mistaken on the time the class started, so I showed up halfway through the workout routine. I started to turn around and leave, but the instructor encouraged me to stay. In fact, everyone stopped and waited for me to get my equipment out and settled. One older lady, Kay, recognized me from when I had been part of the class last year. She was laying on her mat with her head near my feet.
"When was the last time you were here?" she asked suspiciously, tipping her head back to look at me upside-down.
I admitted that I hadn't been in Pilates since Spring Break. Feeling the need to explain myself, I rambled on about switching to the aerobics class for heart health, and then quitting that to do Tae-Bo videos at school and take walks with Karen around our neighborhood. By the time I finished relating my exercise exploits to these women who had never left Pilates to begin with, I felt like Gomer explaining herself to Hosea.
Kay shifted back on her mat, and we began to do large leg circles. However, in the middle of the set, she craned her neck once more.
"Well, welcome back. Are you going to be faithful to the class this time?"
I honestly can't remember what I said, although I'm sure it was something hopefully affirmative, but I do remember being intensely interested in my leg exercises. How embarrassing to be called out on my exercise commitment-phobia by a sixty-five year old woman!
So, needless to say, I have been faithfully attending class on Tuesdays and Thursdays since. The class attendance has dwindled since the last time I was a participant, down to the point that there is not even a regular instructor. So it's me, Kay, and another sexagenarian named Pat conducting our own Pilates independent study course.
We meet on the fourth floor of our exercise facility, and Pat counts out our reps while Kay cracks us all up with her blunt and forceful opinions on all topics. My favorite so far is, "Men with families should not ride motorcycles. If a man with a wife or kids were to die in a crash, that would be so inconsiderate. Unless he had like two million dollars in life insurance."
I rub my youthfulness in the faces of Kay and Pat by doing a few extra reps with my five-pound weights, and in return they rub their life experience in my face by regaling me with stories about assembling puzzles and living with dietary restrictions. It's great inter-generational fun, and, even more, I can still feel my muscles toning even as I sit here typing. Here's to continued success in February!
Friday, January 25, 2008
Sad Day
Every breakup party I have attended since high school wouldn't have been the same without Heath.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Oklahoma- OK?
There is a funny episode of How I Met Your Mother that is all about re-thinking previously held opinions. One of the main characters, Ted, discovers that he has a fondness for an old shirt, food item, even an old girlfriend that he had disliked in past years.
This happens to me all the time. It's a great day when a hated shirt in the closet becomes the perfect complement to a new pair of pants, or when an old song pops up on my iTunes shuffle and I re-discover it all over again. Today I realized that my opinion has changed regarding the genre of the movie-musical.
Previous Opinion: I hate musicals.
With the exception of Sound of Music and My Fair Lady, I really could never stand them. The worst ones, usually set in the American West, featured calico-clad girls and men in suspenders breaking into song in the middle of a cotton field, among other awful pioneer cliches.
Updated Opinion: I love musicals, but I still do not like old musicals.
I thought through the musicals that have been made in the last ten years: Moulin Rouge, Phantom of the Opera, Chicago, Hairspray, even Enchanted, to an extent--I have enjoyed them all! It's fun to be surprised to learn that good actors are sometimes also good singers and good dancers (I'm not referring to "crossover artists" like J.Lo or Jessica Simpson- I think that those girls are lame and I'm not revising my opinion here).
I've gotten to the point where I look for movie-watching experiences that are fun and mindless- no thought-provoking, high drama for me. By Friday night, I'm ready for some mental cheesecake. The modern movie-musical is often just what I'm looking for.
This happens to me all the time. It's a great day when a hated shirt in the closet becomes the perfect complement to a new pair of pants, or when an old song pops up on my iTunes shuffle and I re-discover it all over again. Today I realized that my opinion has changed regarding the genre of the movie-musical.
Previous Opinion: I hate musicals.
With the exception of Sound of Music and My Fair Lady, I really could never stand them. The worst ones, usually set in the American West, featured calico-clad girls and men in suspenders breaking into song in the middle of a cotton field, among other awful pioneer cliches.
Updated Opinion: I love musicals, but I still do not like old musicals.
I thought through the musicals that have been made in the last ten years: Moulin Rouge, Phantom of the Opera, Chicago, Hairspray, even Enchanted, to an extent--I have enjoyed them all! It's fun to be surprised to learn that good actors are sometimes also good singers and good dancers (I'm not referring to "crossover artists" like J.Lo or Jessica Simpson- I think that those girls are lame and I'm not revising my opinion here).
I've gotten to the point where I look for movie-watching experiences that are fun and mindless- no thought-provoking, high drama for me. By Friday night, I'm ready for some mental cheesecake. The modern movie-musical is often just what I'm looking for.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Braced for the Worst
I work very hard to convince myself and everyone around me that I am an adult to be taken seriously. In many ways, I still see myself as a twerpy little eighth grader who is still in desperate need of fashion and makeup tips. It's hard for me to understand that other people don't share my perspective.
My quest for adult actualization suffered a major blow yesterday. I went to the orthodontist.
I am only getting orthodontics for my bottom teeth, so it didn't occur to me to worry about the effect that this metallic adventure would have on the old ego. Bottom teeth don't show up in pictures, right? I realized my gross miscalculation as I sat in the waiting room with several twelve year olds and their parents. I felt my self-esteem balloon deflating rapidly.
It didn't help that most dental hygienists tend to be nurturing types who treat all patients like their favorite grandchild over to play for the afternoon. One of them kindly showed me around the office (unfortunately she neglected to show me the complimentary toothbrushes, which I regretted later on in the visit when the doctor showed me the close up digital snapshots of my teeth). Another helped me fill out my information forms. A third charmed me by offering me cookie dough flavoring when I had my impressions made.
The consultation was painless enough, once I got out of the view of the prepubescents in the waiting room. I answered questions about my dental history and let the nice lady take x-rays and pictures of me (dang! Should have fixed the hair today. Now a very unflattering digital image accompanies all of my information). It got a little awkward again as she explained the office's dental health incentive program which rewards patients with wooden tokens for such accomplishments such as wearing the office t-shirt to appointments, regular brushing, and making A's on a report card. These tokens can be cashed in for lucrative prizes such as CDs, mousepads, and gift certificates. I didn't know which was worse- her implying that I would be interested in such a juvenile extrinsic-motivational system, or the fact that I was kind of excited by the idea of getting a free t-shirt and an opportunity to win gift certificates just for brushing my teeth.
Anyway, due to the nature of my particular maxillofacial situation, I'm looking at 10-12 months of braces, which is not too bad in the long run. My dad, the dentist, has promised me that my smile will eventually sag ("just like everything else"), so I am happy to straighten up my bottom teeth before this becomes an issue. In the meantime, you can stay tuned in here to the blog for all the highlights of this little adventure.
My quest for adult actualization suffered a major blow yesterday. I went to the orthodontist.
I am only getting orthodontics for my bottom teeth, so it didn't occur to me to worry about the effect that this metallic adventure would have on the old ego. Bottom teeth don't show up in pictures, right? I realized my gross miscalculation as I sat in the waiting room with several twelve year olds and their parents. I felt my self-esteem balloon deflating rapidly.
It didn't help that most dental hygienists tend to be nurturing types who treat all patients like their favorite grandchild over to play for the afternoon. One of them kindly showed me around the office (unfortunately she neglected to show me the complimentary toothbrushes, which I regretted later on in the visit when the doctor showed me the close up digital snapshots of my teeth). Another helped me fill out my information forms. A third charmed me by offering me cookie dough flavoring when I had my impressions made.
The consultation was painless enough, once I got out of the view of the prepubescents in the waiting room. I answered questions about my dental history and let the nice lady take x-rays and pictures of me (dang! Should have fixed the hair today. Now a very unflattering digital image accompanies all of my information). It got a little awkward again as she explained the office's dental health incentive program which rewards patients with wooden tokens for such accomplishments such as wearing the office t-shirt to appointments, regular brushing, and making A's on a report card. These tokens can be cashed in for lucrative prizes such as CDs, mousepads, and gift certificates. I didn't know which was worse- her implying that I would be interested in such a juvenile extrinsic-motivational system, or the fact that I was kind of excited by the idea of getting a free t-shirt and an opportunity to win gift certificates just for brushing my teeth.
Anyway, due to the nature of my particular maxillofacial situation, I'm looking at 10-12 months of braces, which is not too bad in the long run. My dad, the dentist, has promised me that my smile will eventually sag ("just like everything else"), so I am happy to straighten up my bottom teeth before this becomes an issue. In the meantime, you can stay tuned in here to the blog for all the highlights of this little adventure.
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