Eric and I went to San Diego this past weekend for a fun getaway to enjoy a little summer and a free weekend stay at the W earned through all my business travel.
The big activity on Saturday was: go to the beach. We chose Coronado beach from a menu of beach experiences described in detail by the concierge based on level of bar scene, level of crowdedness and ease of transport back without a car (the hotel would give us a free ride to anywhere within 8 miles but we'd have to find out own way back). Coronado Beach was low on sceney-ness and crowds, had the bonus of a ferry ride back through the bay, and had the added allure of being described as "a 1950's beach" which made me expect that everyone would be wearing those funny bathing suits you see in old photos.
A lifetime of badly burned fair skin has taught me to be relentless in my application of a high SPF block. But I was recently alarmed to discover what's actually in the sunblock I've been generously slathering on my largest organ and one which largely ingests what you put on it. Without going into great detail, suffice it to say I wanted to balance the carcinogenic effects of the sun against the carcinogenic effects of my sunblock.
Solution: shade!
We rented a beach umbrella under which I happily parked myself for several hours in the middle of the day. I read my book, we played 20 questions, I stared into the middle distance, etc. I did go swimming for a few minutes but not very long and then I hustled back under the umbrella.
Getting out of the shower that evening it became clear to me that beach umbrellas are not the comprehensive UV ray blockers that I had believed them to be.
I didn't get a severe burn, I just got the most awkward, blotchy, smeary, streaky random sunburn of my life. It looked like I had let a drunk panda apply my sunblock with only its left foot. My friend Jamaica has paintings hanging in her home that were done in Thailand by elephants. They would have done a better job. But all I had was the drunk panda, I mean beach umbrella.
There are pictures but they are of me just out of the shower and even though all the sensitive bits are covered it just doesn't feel like a good choice to post them here. But I still might. We'll see.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Friday, August 28, 2009
What's so funny
I taught two yoga classes this week, my usual Monday morning class and a Tuesday evening class that I subbed.
The Monday morning classes might as well be taking place in a cemetery the gym is so quiet at 7am. I don't use music for the class and the silence and the sound of the breathing is meditative and peaceful.
Evening classes are a whole different story. The yoga studio has windows on one side that look across a hallway and into another studio that in the evenings is used for ballroom dancing classes. This leads to yoga cues during the standing balance poses that go something like "Direct your gaze straight ahead and fix your gaze on an undancing spot in front of you."
In addition to the dance class, there was another class going on in an adjoining studio that we couldn't see but we could hear: it sounded like some sort of Brazilian streetfighting. I think someone may have been actually killed at one point. I think I could hear the perpetrators going through his wallet.
Seven people came to the Tuesday class which, I am both pleased and embarrassed to announce is the largest class I have ever taught and it, like many of the classes I teach at the gym, featured an awkward mix of levels. I taught to the least advanced level and believe I succeeded in leaving everyone unsatisfied. One beginner woman kept making these harumphs and whimpers of disbelief at the poses we were doing. It reminded me of a guy who used to show up sometimes in classes at my Washington DC yoga studio. He was an older black guy who was in pretty good shape and who would spend the entire class laughing. Every instruction the teacher gave, he would just chuckle appreciatively but incredulously as if to say "That would be wonderful if it weren't impossible."
The Monday morning classes might as well be taking place in a cemetery the gym is so quiet at 7am. I don't use music for the class and the silence and the sound of the breathing is meditative and peaceful.
Evening classes are a whole different story. The yoga studio has windows on one side that look across a hallway and into another studio that in the evenings is used for ballroom dancing classes. This leads to yoga cues during the standing balance poses that go something like "Direct your gaze straight ahead and fix your gaze on an undancing spot in front of you."
In addition to the dance class, there was another class going on in an adjoining studio that we couldn't see but we could hear: it sounded like some sort of Brazilian streetfighting. I think someone may have been actually killed at one point. I think I could hear the perpetrators going through his wallet.
Seven people came to the Tuesday class which, I am both pleased and embarrassed to announce is the largest class I have ever taught and it, like many of the classes I teach at the gym, featured an awkward mix of levels. I taught to the least advanced level and believe I succeeded in leaving everyone unsatisfied. One beginner woman kept making these harumphs and whimpers of disbelief at the poses we were doing. It reminded me of a guy who used to show up sometimes in classes at my Washington DC yoga studio. He was an older black guy who was in pretty good shape and who would spend the entire class laughing. Every instruction the teacher gave, he would just chuckle appreciatively but incredulously as if to say "That would be wonderful if it weren't impossible."
Thursday, August 27, 2009
100+ days later
I'd like to bring up an awkward topic: my 100 Day Stretch. I've been hoping that I wouldn't bring it up, but I did.
I'm not sure if anyone has been following the 100 Day Stretch scorecard that I posted up here (definitely hoping that you have not) but those of you who have clicked on it since, oh, the beginning of July, might have noticed that it has gone a bit dormant. I didn't stop doing the stuff I had committed to (mostly); I just kind of stopped tracking my progress on the scorecard itself. Maybe tracking my goals should have been one of the goals.
We had a firm party on the 100th day (August 8) where we all shared something we accomplished as part of the Stretch that we were proud of. As I reflected on what to say, I realized that though I certainly did not get to 100% success on the Stretch, I did a lot more than I would have done without it, and I had a lot to be proud of as a result. Doing 15 minutes of yoga every day was particularly rewarding, as were the courageous conversations (one per week!) and asking for help, something I tend to be especially bad at. While I sat there waiting for it to be my turn I went from feeling a little sheepish and slacker-y to feeling downright proud of the things that I did and the way that they served me.
I think I probably landed at about 80% completion of my goals, which were ambitious to begin with. I give myself an A for making accomplishments and a C- for tracking them.
I'm not sure if anyone has been following the 100 Day Stretch scorecard that I posted up here (definitely hoping that you have not) but those of you who have clicked on it since, oh, the beginning of July, might have noticed that it has gone a bit dormant. I didn't stop doing the stuff I had committed to (mostly); I just kind of stopped tracking my progress on the scorecard itself. Maybe tracking my goals should have been one of the goals.
We had a firm party on the 100th day (August 8) where we all shared something we accomplished as part of the Stretch that we were proud of. As I reflected on what to say, I realized that though I certainly did not get to 100% success on the Stretch, I did a lot more than I would have done without it, and I had a lot to be proud of as a result. Doing 15 minutes of yoga every day was particularly rewarding, as were the courageous conversations (one per week!) and asking for help, something I tend to be especially bad at. While I sat there waiting for it to be my turn I went from feeling a little sheepish and slacker-y to feeling downright proud of the things that I did and the way that they served me.
I think I probably landed at about 80% completion of my goals, which were ambitious to begin with. I give myself an A for making accomplishments and a C- for tracking them.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Make it so
When Eric and I were in New York recently, we visited my friend Johnny Stef and his wife Suhana to meet their new son Henryk and generally gab about life. Among the topics covered were engagement and wedding planning.
John and Suhana were engaged for over seven years. Their explanation: procrastination of wedding planning.
"Every time we would sit down to talk about planning the wedding we would look at each other and say 'this is horrible, let's go see a movie instead,' " John told us.
This explains not only why it took them seven years to get married but also why John has an encyclopedic knowledge of films from the late 90s and early 2000s.
Eric and I are finding wedding planning equally delightful. And, in spite of our desire to not drag out the engagement, I'm afraid our new-found escapist retreat, Battlestar Galactica, might result in an estimated wedding date sometime in 2015. (There are 6 seasons, and a prequel season is planned for 2010.)
This has the added danger that when we do finally get married it will be in Battlestar uniforms, officiated by Edward James Olmos (or a lookalike) and, should the reception come under Cylon attack at any point, everyone will have to do that synchronized falling thing as though we've been hit.
John and Suhana were engaged for over seven years. Their explanation: procrastination of wedding planning.
"Every time we would sit down to talk about planning the wedding we would look at each other and say 'this is horrible, let's go see a movie instead,' " John told us.
This explains not only why it took them seven years to get married but also why John has an encyclopedic knowledge of films from the late 90s and early 2000s.
Eric and I are finding wedding planning equally delightful. And, in spite of our desire to not drag out the engagement, I'm afraid our new-found escapist retreat, Battlestar Galactica, might result in an estimated wedding date sometime in 2015. (There are 6 seasons, and a prequel season is planned for 2010.)
This has the added danger that when we do finally get married it will be in Battlestar uniforms, officiated by Edward James Olmos (or a lookalike) and, should the reception come under Cylon attack at any point, everyone will have to do that synchronized falling thing as though we've been hit.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Healthy choice
It is Open Enrollment for health care plans right now and my company has offered us an overwhelming menu of different plans. It is all within the same umbrella provider, so the network is the same (we're not choosing one set of doctors over another). What is different is the specific level of coverage across a range of services, and somehow these clever insurance people have come up with over 30 different variations.
Sometimes more options is not better.
For the last week (applications are due Wednesday), the office has been abuzz with the sound of consultants trying to optimize their health care plans.
Every time I've asked a colleague which plan they've chosen, they've had a clear answer, and all said the same thing:
"I made a spreadsheet."
While it may cause you to question my consultant DNA, and may further explain why I still don't know what I am going to choose, I have not built a spreadsheet. My approach has been to wade through the plans, look at other people's spreadsheets, get exasperated that this is taking up so much of my time and decide that I am going to deal with it later so I can do some of my actual work.
This strategy was only going to get me so far, and now is the time to make a decision. I've printed out all the options and I'm getting my darts ready. I expect to be done with all of this hoo ha very shortly.
Sometimes more options is not better.
For the last week (applications are due Wednesday), the office has been abuzz with the sound of consultants trying to optimize their health care plans.
Every time I've asked a colleague which plan they've chosen, they've had a clear answer, and all said the same thing:
"I made a spreadsheet."
While it may cause you to question my consultant DNA, and may further explain why I still don't know what I am going to choose, I have not built a spreadsheet. My approach has been to wade through the plans, look at other people's spreadsheets, get exasperated that this is taking up so much of my time and decide that I am going to deal with it later so I can do some of my actual work.
This strategy was only going to get me so far, and now is the time to make a decision. I've printed out all the options and I'm getting my darts ready. I expect to be done with all of this hoo ha very shortly.
Monday, August 24, 2009
The Longest Day
We had one of the longest Saturdays on record this weekend, in the good sense. My company has a small apartment above our office in Healdsburg, about an hour and a half north of San Francisco in the heart of wine country, and any of us from the company can go spend time up there for free during the week or on weekends, we just need to reserve it in advance.
Eric and I headed up on Friday night for our weekend getaway in wine country and made it up in time for dinner at the local microbrewery, Bear Republic Brewing Company. We sat outdoors in that summer-evening-warm-but-cool temperature that pretty much never happens in the city. It was wonderful.
Saturday was the longest day. I think what made it feel so long was the clever combination of doing a lot of things and doing nothing at all. We started if off by sitting in the central square with coffee and pastries, reading our books while also watching a variety of dogs and small children investigate, sometimes to the point of immersion, the fountain in the center of the square (dogs ended up in the fountain more often than kids, but not by much).
We walked around town a bit, got a mediocre lunch, went to find the Russian River, found it, walked around in it, saw some ducks and watched some big fluffy yellow dogs playing in the water. The dogs were working pretty hard to lug all their heavy fur through the water to retrieve the large sticks being thrown for them and they started really slowing down, becoming increasingly reluctant to give the sticks back just to see them chucked once more out into the river for them to fetch.
We went back to the apartment to nap. I napped; Eric passed on the nap in favor of going out to pick up some beer and snacks, and, unbeknownst to me at the time, the engagement ring we'd looked at earlier that I had determined was too nice for me.
Post-nap we went out to explore some more, this time driving through the rolling hills of vines heavy with ripe grapes to Lake Sonoma. We wandered around there a bit, checking out the boat launch and watching people tubing around the lake. We debated the merits of tubing vs other water sports and concluded that it is only fun when you are too young to do anything better like waterski or wakeboard.
Post-nap we went out to explore some more, this time driving through the rolling hills of vines heavy with ripe grapes to Lake Sonoma. We wandered around there a bit, checking out the boat launch and watching people tubing around the lake. We debated the merits of tubing vs other water sports and concluded that it is only fun when you are too young to do anything better like waterski or wakeboard.
And yet the day continued! We went back to town, walked around and found a place to eat some dinner, played hangman on our napkins with the crayons available to entertain children, and, finally, because we were on vacation, we rented a terrible horror movie to watch on the big screen tv at the apartment. It was truly horrible. We only watched part of it on fast forward.
I told you it was the longest day.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Nacho cheese
I brought a peanut butter and raspberry jelly sandwich for lunch today which is normally a wonderful treat but today, for whatever reason, it just wasn't working for me. I wanted salty, not sweet.
I decided to take my quest for savory to the community fridge where I discovered a few hunks of cheese with no one's name on them.
So I ate them.
The End.
PS Is it weird that so many of my blogs are about food these days? Is that a sign that I am working too much and have no other interesting stories?
I decided to take my quest for savory to the community fridge where I discovered a few hunks of cheese with no one's name on them.
So I ate them.
The End.
PS Is it weird that so many of my blogs are about food these days? Is that a sign that I am working too much and have no other interesting stories?
Thursday, August 20, 2009
It's the little things
Last night for dinner, Eric made us the best grilled cheese sandwiches in the whole world. I think an accomplishment like that needs to be recognized and so I say "Gold Star for Eric for Excellence in the Craft of Grilled Cheese Sandwich-making." Hear Hear!
Let me tell you about these grilled cheese sandwiches. I wish I'd taken a photo - they were beautifully browned and crispy, the cheese was melty and hot and the tomatoes balanced it out perfectly. It was, in a word, divine.
Funny how something like a perfect grilled cheese sandwich can bring us so much pleasure on a Wednesday night.
Let me tell you about these grilled cheese sandwiches. I wish I'd taken a photo - they were beautifully browned and crispy, the cheese was melty and hot and the tomatoes balanced it out perfectly. It was, in a word, divine.
Funny how something like a perfect grilled cheese sandwich can bring us so much pleasure on a Wednesday night.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Chilled
Today was Day 3 of a conference about food and sustainability that I'm attending. This is third conference I've been to in the last month (well, second if you exclude the unconference) and it has been interesting to note common themes and gauge the level of the conversation being had in these different forums.*
My biggest complaint about the conference, and this is actually a complaint that I have almost any time I am indoors during summer, is that it was fricking freezing. It was like they were trying to refrigerate us, not just provide some air conditioning.
I spent the first day teeth chattering, verging on hypothermia.
Day two I wore long underwear underneath my professional clothes.
Day three I pondered earmuffs and mittens. I really did.
The joke is that in SF in August it isn't exactly warm outside. In fact, it has been pretty chilly and gray during the day, probably not much above 65. So why are we using god knows how much energy to air condition the conference room to be capable of safely storing meat?
My favorite discovery was this: there are little heat vents set up just inside the revolving doors. So, literally, you come in from the chilly outside, get nice warm air blown on you, and then move into the excessive air conditioned conference space. Does this make sense to anyone?
During every break I made a beeline to stand underneath the vents and bring the feeling back into my extremities.
*I first wrote "fora" but then I immediately hated myself and had to change it.
My biggest complaint about the conference, and this is actually a complaint that I have almost any time I am indoors during summer, is that it was fricking freezing. It was like they were trying to refrigerate us, not just provide some air conditioning.
I spent the first day teeth chattering, verging on hypothermia.
Day two I wore long underwear underneath my professional clothes.
Day three I pondered earmuffs and mittens. I really did.
The joke is that in SF in August it isn't exactly warm outside. In fact, it has been pretty chilly and gray during the day, probably not much above 65. So why are we using god knows how much energy to air condition the conference room to be capable of safely storing meat?
My favorite discovery was this: there are little heat vents set up just inside the revolving doors. So, literally, you come in from the chilly outside, get nice warm air blown on you, and then move into the excessive air conditioned conference space. Does this make sense to anyone?
During every break I made a beeline to stand underneath the vents and bring the feeling back into my extremities.
*I first wrote "fora" but then I immediately hated myself and had to change it.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Intruder alert
While we were gone last weekend, something mysterious happened: a plant break-in.
The indoor portion of the garden includes a pot which is struggling to grow chives. I mean, we're barely at the stage of being able to do a convincing comb-over. It's a little sad.
It also now includes a mystery plant which has decided it is taking over.
I have no idea what it is but it certainly seems to be making itself comfortable.
The indoor portion of the garden includes a pot which is struggling to grow chives. I mean, we're barely at the stage of being able to do a convincing comb-over. It's a little sad.
It also now includes a mystery plant which has decided it is taking over.
I have no idea what it is but it certainly seems to be making itself comfortable.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Long road home
In order to get back to San Francisco to put in a whole day's work, Eric and I got up at 1am Pacific time to get a 3am Pacific time flight home from New York, which would deliver us back to the Bay Area at 9:30am.
The key here, of course, is sleeping on the plane. And the plane not pulling away from the gate a glorious 9 minutes early only to sit on the tarmac for three hours with no air conditioning. When you land 9+ hours later in the middle of the day in SF far more exhausted and dehydrated than you might have thought possible, it sort of changes the original calculus.
If you are wondering if getting up at 1am might actually impair one's ability to work a full day rather than enable it, you might be on to something. I'll have to let you know tomorrow when I can see straight once again.
The key here, of course, is sleeping on the plane. And the plane not pulling away from the gate a glorious 9 minutes early only to sit on the tarmac for three hours with no air conditioning. When you land 9+ hours later in the middle of the day in SF far more exhausted and dehydrated than you might have thought possible, it sort of changes the original calculus.
If you are wondering if getting up at 1am might actually impair one's ability to work a full day rather than enable it, you might be on to something. I'll have to let you know tomorrow when I can see straight once again.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Maybe
Tonight I go to sleep listening to noisy bugs making a delightful racket out the window. I will try not the scratch the mosquito bites I've gotten in spite of not having left the screened-in porch all day.
Last night I fell asleep to the sound of the rain. Good Pennsylvania rain, quite unlike that flimsy California rain we get in San Francisco.
Tonight in my dreams I hope to ride a fast motorcycle through the mountains that turns into a lion running through the jungle and then a dolphin swimming really fast through the sea. And then I'll be a little girl doing somersaults and cartwheels in the soft grass like my old front lawn. And maybe I'll see my cats Luko and Leia playing nearby and they'll come to me and I will pat them on their heads and their long slinky cat bodies.
Last night I fell asleep to the sound of the rain. Good Pennsylvania rain, quite unlike that flimsy California rain we get in San Francisco.
Tonight in my dreams I hope to ride a fast motorcycle through the mountains that turns into a lion running through the jungle and then a dolphin swimming really fast through the sea. And then I'll be a little girl doing somersaults and cartwheels in the soft grass like my old front lawn. And maybe I'll see my cats Luko and Leia playing nearby and they'll come to me and I will pat them on their heads and their long slinky cat bodies.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Happy Birthday to me
Today I turned 31.
I liked being 30. It was a good year that included becoming a yoga teacher, starting a company, watching that company fail, being unemployed for a while (it was very in at the time), taking an amazing vacation in Maui, getting a job while simultaneously not getting many other jobs, learning to make beer at home, climbing a mountain I've wanted to climb for many years, building and planting a garden on my roof, watching most of that garden die but still managing to harvest a few spectacular tomatoes, and most recently agreeing with Eric that we should keep this thing going for a good long time to come.
Today was a great way to launch the next year of adventure. I spent time with friends in DC this morning, then took the train to Philly where my aunts Barbara and Penney scooped me up to go spend a wonderful evening with my grandmother sitting on her screened-in back porch watching the darkness on the grass and gabbing.
Happy Birthday to me. Life is grand.
I liked being 30. It was a good year that included becoming a yoga teacher, starting a company, watching that company fail, being unemployed for a while (it was very in at the time), taking an amazing vacation in Maui, getting a job while simultaneously not getting many other jobs, learning to make beer at home, climbing a mountain I've wanted to climb for many years, building and planting a garden on my roof, watching most of that garden die but still managing to harvest a few spectacular tomatoes, and most recently agreeing with Eric that we should keep this thing going for a good long time to come.
Today was a great way to launch the next year of adventure. I spent time with friends in DC this morning, then took the train to Philly where my aunts Barbara and Penney scooped me up to go spend a wonderful evening with my grandmother sitting on her screened-in back porch watching the darkness on the grass and gabbing.
Happy Birthday to me. Life is grand.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Back East
I'm stomping my old grounds today and yesterday. I've been wandering around my old neighborhood in between conference calls and meeting friends for meals at times my body hasn't quite adjusted to yet - though I haven't actually walked past my old apartment. My biggest observation so far is that it is hot here. And there's now a Lululemon right across the street from my old yoga joint, as well as a new gelato place which has Rhubarb gelato, a first for me.
It has been a year since I've been back to DC and the last time I was here was when I was packing up my old apartment and hiring illegals to carry everything down four flights of stairs for me. Ahh, the good old days.
It has been very reassuring to visit with friends here and discover that I haven't made myself totally irrelevant by not coming back for a year.
Did I mention it's really hot here?
It has been a year since I've been back to DC and the last time I was here was when I was packing up my old apartment and hiring illegals to carry everything down four flights of stairs for me. Ahh, the good old days.
It has been very reassuring to visit with friends here and discover that I haven't made myself totally irrelevant by not coming back for a year.
Did I mention it's really hot here?
Friday, August 7, 2009
So cultured
I am kind of fascinated by this brilliant and horrifying and possibly wonderful idea.
I particularly liked this line: "But the public doesn't always blindly buy what companies believe they should."
Not always, but with good marketing they can get pretty close.
I particularly liked this line: "But the public doesn't always blindly buy what companies believe they should."
Not always, but with good marketing they can get pretty close.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Undoing it
I went to an Unconference yesterday. An Unconference is not a non-conference, and it's not an anti-conference. It is sort of like a combination of a conference with a Quaker Meeting.
The biggest difference from a regular conference is the format: there's no structure, no sessions planned, no speakers, nothing conferency like that until everyone shows up that morning and creates it.
The only thing that exists ahead of time is the topic. In this case it was "Green Innovation for Business."
We and about 150 people all showed up at 9am with no idea how we would be spending the day. The process then went like this: everyone there did a 15 second self-introduction, we talked for about 10 min in small groups about things that would be interesting to have a session on, and then whoever felt so inclined wrote out a session topic on a piece of paper and put it up on the wall in one of the ~40 session slots (there was time for four one-hour sessions across 10 rooms)
This, now, was the agenda for the day. The person who put up the topic was the session moderator.
We each looked at the wall, picked out which sessions we wanted to go to, and off we went. If people showed up for a session, then it would happen. If no one showed up, then it wouldn't. If you got bored halfway through you were encouraged to leave. Vote with your feet - make it relevant to yourself.
If the conversation came to a natural end before the end of the allotted hour, then people would head off and either join other sessions or just hang out until the next round of sessions started. If a session needed more time, it could continue indefinitely until the group was satisfied.
If the conversation came to a natural end before the end of the allotted hour, then people would head off and either join other sessions or just hang out until the next round of sessions started. If a session needed more time, it could continue indefinitely until the group was satisfied.
It was a great day and I left feeling very un-satisfied.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Meet the neighbors
This is our neighbor across the way. We call him Naked Man for obvious reasons.
Be assured, this little peep show on a Saturday morning was not a one time event. He struts around his apartment and balcony pretty much all the time completely buck naked.*
We point him out to guests when they come over.
"Oh look, Naked Man's out," Eric will point out casually. The guest will usually laugh, then look, then gasp, then look again, then ask if we have binoculars handy.
We do.
I do have to wonder aloud why he has an enormous sign in his apartment which says "Bon Appetit." Perhaps someday I'll have the opportunity to ask him.
*In high school I was on the yearbook staff and we had to do a special scan through the names for all of the group photos to make sure no one was being a comedian and putting fake or ridiculous names down. Sure enough, my senior year, "Buck Naiked" was one of the more active students at OPRF and appeared in I think seven different groups including Stage Crew and Band.
Be assured, this little peep show on a Saturday morning was not a one time event. He struts around his apartment and balcony pretty much all the time completely buck naked.*
We point him out to guests when they come over.
"Oh look, Naked Man's out," Eric will point out casually. The guest will usually laugh, then look, then gasp, then look again, then ask if we have binoculars handy.
We do.
I do have to wonder aloud why he has an enormous sign in his apartment which says "Bon Appetit." Perhaps someday I'll have the opportunity to ask him.
*In high school I was on the yearbook staff and we had to do a special scan through the names for all of the group photos to make sure no one was being a comedian and putting fake or ridiculous names down. Sure enough, my senior year, "Buck Naiked" was one of the more active students at OPRF and appeared in I think seven different groups including Stage Crew and Band.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Crunch time
On my way to yoga yesterday I rode my bike past a most improbable and horrifying accident.
I could see the flashing lights for blocks, and all traffic was stopped in both directions. I continued down Market Street towards the accident because it was the only way to get to the yoga studio, and because I am apparently the sort of person who bikes towards the flashing lights instead of away from them.
And there I saw it: an SUV sandwiched between two street cars, accordion style. I paused, considered taking a picture with my cell phone, decided that was ridiculous, and continued on to my yoga class, which was excellent.
Here's what the local authorities had to say about it. I like how they refer to them as "historic trolleys." Good to know that no one was killed.
I could see the flashing lights for blocks, and all traffic was stopped in both directions. I continued down Market Street towards the accident because it was the only way to get to the yoga studio, and because I am apparently the sort of person who bikes towards the flashing lights instead of away from them.
And there I saw it: an SUV sandwiched between two street cars, accordion style. I paused, considered taking a picture with my cell phone, decided that was ridiculous, and continued on to my yoga class, which was excellent.
Here's what the local authorities had to say about it. I like how they refer to them as "historic trolleys." Good to know that no one was killed.
Monday, August 3, 2009
Afternoon Announcements
When I was in 8th grade, I was selected to be the student who read the day's announcements over the PA system at the end of each day of junior high. I have no idea why I was selected for this dubious privilege but I embraced it with gusto.
The way I opened it, every day for the entire 8th grade year, was by saying "Afternoon Announcements" with an upward lilt at the end of 'announcements' so that it sounded either like a question or like I was British royalty. After that, everything was read normally. I can't tell you why this made sense to me but at the time it did. And it became my signature, and my legacy.
To this day, people I went to junior high with will mimic it back to me and then, once again, wonder aloud about why it sounded like a question when it was clearly a statement. That's when I sock them in the gut and run away.
Today's Announcement, of the morning variety, is that Eric asked me to marry him and I said yes.
The way I opened it, every day for the entire 8th grade year, was by saying "Afternoon Announcements" with an upward lilt at the end of 'announcements' so that it sounded either like a question or like I was British royalty. After that, everything was read normally. I can't tell you why this made sense to me but at the time it did. And it became my signature, and my legacy.
To this day, people I went to junior high with will mimic it back to me and then, once again, wonder aloud about why it sounded like a question when it was clearly a statement. That's when I sock them in the gut and run away.
Today's Announcement, of the morning variety, is that Eric asked me to marry him and I said yes.
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