Monday, March 21, 2011

Football Players Are People Too

I almost spit out my granola this morning when I read this sentence in the sports section of the paper – “I tell guys,
Why do you need that $250,000 car? A Mercedes is a great car and it's $85,000. You can afford that on your salary.’ ” It seems the NFL player who made that statement has taken on the responsibility of advising his younger, less fiscally cautious teammates because of the anticipated NFL lockout. Or maybe it’s the current NFL lockout. Not that I care. I don’t usually read the sports page. I’m more interested in finding out what Dean Earl has screwed up this time or what words of wisdom I will hear from Lola

But today the “real” news section of the paper was so small I still had cereal in my bowl when I’d finished reading it so I was forced to move on to the sports section. And yes, my initial reaction after reading that sentence was total dumbfoundedness. But once I faced up to the fact that my reaction had been colored by an unfair prejudice against men earning millions of dollars just because they know how to eat gargantuan meals and throw a football, I was able to see the article for what it really was – a cry for help. It just breaks my heart to think about the humiliation an NFL player must feel when he is forced to squeeze his oil barrel-sized thighs and beer-keg-shaped belly into a measly Mercedes Benz. I can barely see through my tears to type these words.

I was thinking about the plight of the NFL players as I drove to work this morning. At first I didn’t think I had anything in common with them but the more I thought about it, the more I realized we are all much more alike than I first thought. Everybody needs to earn a living. Some of us earn it as millions of people watch waves of blubber while a dead pig part is chased down the field and some of us earn our living by using our bruised and swollen hands to make that very same dead pig part

Think about it. We are all human and we are all just trying to cope with these difficult economic times whether we are Mr. NFL or Mr. and Mrs. Typical American. All of us are all reaching deep down into our cores and making difficult choices.  Let me give you an example:

 Mr. NFL and Mr. & Mrs. Typical both need to take a break from the stresses in their lives.

How do they go about accomplishing this release from stress?

Mr. NFL has chosen to relieve his stress by taking a trip but he wants to economize just in case his unemployment continues longer than he would like. So after much inner turmoil he has decided that instead of visiting Paris he will take a vacation to Hawaii.

He normally rents a private jet but in the interest of economy, he has lowered his standards and will have his limousine driver drop him off at the private security area where he will force himself to mingle with the masses by flying in the first class section. (Now I don’t know for a fact there is a private security area, but I myself have never seen any NFL football players or movie stars or famous singers snaking through a security line and throwing their $1,095.00 Jimmy Choos into a plastic bin so I’m pretty sure it’s there somewhere.)

Mr. NFL would like to rent the penthouse, as is his custom, but he knows he should save money by selecting the lesser deluxe suite. His brow wrinkles as he deliberates between the penthouse or the suite, the penthouse or the suite. However, there are limits to the depths a person can go to save money and residing in a paltry suite, even for a mere two weeks, is more than he can face. He rents the penthouse.

Since Mr. NFL did not cut costs in his housing he decides to eat his meals with the everyday folk in the five-star restaurants. This economization will save him the cost of a private chef. That is not to say he will refrain from hosting parties at which time he WILL require not only the services of a private chef, but live music, champagne, premium beers and exotic hors d’Ĺ“uvre served on sterling silver picks.

Mr. and Mrs. Typical would also like go away somewhere and, for a few days, put aside their daily worries and concerns. They’ve always wanted to see the lights of Las Vegas but they don’t have a lot of free time. They are rarely even home at the same time because they are trying to coordinate work hours to lessen daycare costs. On top of that, recently Mr. Typical began working two jobs to cope with unexpected medical expenses. Consequently, their trip will necessarily be limited to four days.

Unfortunately, they just spent the rest of their savings on last month’s heating bill which means there’s no money for a Greyhound ticket. They consider driving their 1999 Ford Focus but it has 225,000 miles on it and leaves a trail of stinky blue smoke on the days it actually starts. So even though the lights of Las Vegas are calling them, and they would love a few days away, after considering their available time and funds, they have chosen to have a staycation.

However, just because they aren’t leaving town doesn’t mean they can’t get away. They would like to rent a room at the local Super 8, take advantage of the free HBO, kick back and watch the movies they couldn’t afford to view at the local cinema. But just like Mr. NFL, they also need to make sacrifices, so they have opted to set up a tent in their backyard, rent a dollar movie from Red Box, and play it on the laptop they picked up at the local school excess sale two years ago.

The Focus would probably get them to the local Applebee’s for a nice dinner, but gas at the pump has gone up to nearly $4.00/gallon and the cost of a dinner at Applebee’s would pay for a portion of the cost of having Mr. Typical’s abscessed tooth pulled so they decide to build a campfire in the sandbox. And later, after they’ve eaten their fill of s’mores, just like Mr. NFL, they too will have a private party. They will pop a CD into the boom box, drink Bud Lite and roast weenies on whittled sticks.

So you see, we really are all alike.◦
Share/Bookmark

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Sewing and Sinks

In February one of the two yoga instructors at our health club told us she was leaving for an ashram in Hawaii this month. I know. I also wondered how she could leave the winter wonderland of Wyoming for Hawaii. Even more, why would anybody choose to leave Wyoming in March and miss the opportunity of winning the city-wide pool of “whose planned trip will be postponed when the spring blizzard shuts down the interstate?” You don’t believe me? Dang.  You’re right. There is no city-wide pool. But now that I’ve thought of it, I feel I should suggest that money-maker to the city council at their next meeting. Maybe that slush fund (get it?  slush ... snow ... slush fu ... oh forget it) could be used to supplement the budget so somebody would plow the snow from OUR street one day. I realize it’s important to know how to navigate while driving in six-inch deep frozen ruts or control your car during a spin when the snow covering the street has evolved into an ice rink, but I’ve had enough practice over the years and I’m pretty skilled at both techniques now.

Anyway, this means the Tuesday night classes have been cancelled until a new instructor finishes the training and is certified. And while I would love to give myself the gift of Tuesday night off from working out, I still see Christmas cookies, fudge, and candy taunting me every time I accidentally get a glance at my belly. I don’t mind telling you that I’m annoyed with those cookies. I’ve given up my work-night wine, I hardly ever eat anything sweet, I eat smaller portions and still there’s a very stubborn gob of Christmas goodies that seem to have taken up permanent belly residence. I’m so annoyed that even though I love, love, love licorice, recently I’ve been letting Dean eat the stash I had squirreled away in my desk drawer. The stash Santa brought me at Christmas. The stash I hadn’t even opened yet. “Please, eat some more of that black, chewy, mouth-watering licorice. It’s okay. Go ahead. Open it. Somebody might as well eat it. No, really. I don’t want any. I have a little pile of raw almonds and raisins right here. They’re delicious.” So the thing is, if I ever want to be able to eat licorice again – partially guilt-free anyway – there is no Tuesday night off for me. I had to find an alternative to the Tuesday yoga class.

I could have sweat on the dreaded elliptical, but I hate the elliptical. I’m not sure why I hate it so much. It can’t be the sweating because contorting my poor body in a 95 degree room for 75 minutes generates way more sweat than repeatedly pushing my feet up and around on a stationery machine. I suppose it could be partly because my toes always seem to start falling asleep no matter how loose I tie my shoes. I’ve considered going shoeless but I’ve yet to test that and honestly, I hope I never have the opportunity. Who knows why I cringe at the thought of stepping onto an elliptical machine, but be that as it may, the fact is I’d do just about anything to get out of working out on that evil machine, including walking outside in gale-force winds.

So, since when I got home from work tonight, the temperature was in the 50s and the sidewalks were no longer ice traps, I breathed a sigh of relief knowing I didn’t have to choose the elliptical even though if I’d chosen it I could have watched a guy eat a sugar cane rat or termites.  Instead I chose to walk hard and fast outside for 45 minutes so I could experience the gentle Wyoming breezes rip the scrunchy out of my ponytail and feel the dirt polish the enamel of my teeth. But, even though conditions weren’t ideal, I walked with a spring in my step and a (mostly closed-mouth) smile on my face because last night I had discovered the Best · App · Ever(Notice how I'm using all that smart phone jargon after only two weeks.  Cool, eh?)

It’s free and there are podcasts and radio stations and live stuff and it streams quickly and it’s so easy to figure out even I know how to use it. Me. An iPhone greenie. And you don’t have to sync! Let me repeat that. There is no syncing! Out on a walk and you wish you had remembered to sync “Wait Wait” – it’s there! Need a little mood music while you plan a trip to Scotland but you forgot to sync Fiona – it’s there!

So for all of you out there with a droid or a Blackberry or this awesome, “I can’t believe I love it this much” iPhone, I say download that app! Do it now. You will love it. And for those of you without a fancy phone, you can download it to your computer.

Who knows, maybe it will help you choose the elliptical one day. I highly doubt it will influence me to choose the elliptical. Actually, I can pretty much guarantee you it won’t make that wicked machine any more attractive to me. But maybe it will be all YOU need to step on that machine. Or not.◦
Share/Bookmark

Sunday, March 13, 2011

Shredding Isn't Just For Boarders

You know how there are some things that are routine and mundane and constant but it’s that constancy that gives reassurance that life is moving on and things are as they should be? For example, when we cross country ski my nose always runs. It’s a faucet. But I’m always prepared with pockets filled with tissue. Dean’s nose runs when we ski too. But he’s never prepared. And when we’re in the parking lot, getting ready to leave, I wait for the question. And it always comes. “Do you have a Kleenex?” And I always have plenty which I share generously with him. (The mother in me feels I should make him sniff and use his arm as a tissue all the way home so he’ll learn to bring his own tissues but my gag reflex just hasn’t allowed that yet.)  It’s just those kinds of fulfilled expectations that are comforting.

As I was gathering up stinky socks, sweaty workout clothes, and cat fur covered clothing this morning and preparing for another mundane but reassuring routine (laundry) I heard a sound that filled me with peace and calmness. It was the quintessential sound of spring. It was coming from outside and I knew its origin immediately. I stood with an armload of laundry and listened to the song that told me life is moving on as it should, filled with hope and expectation. The song that told me that even if spring hasn’t arrived completely it is on its way.

It was the sweet sounds of a man and his machine and their own routine and mundane, but constant rite of spring.



Of course for some creatures every day is a reassurance that life is proceeding as it should be.....as long as there is a pillow and a patch of sun.


Share/Bookmark

Monday, March 7, 2011

Can You Hear Me Now?

I’m just going to say it. I was hoping for a bit more participation in my “Droid or iPhone” post. I thought people would jump at the chance to promote their favorite phone, or tell me why they don’t like the other phone. I even half expected some people might tell me why I didn’t need a smart phone at all. Heck, I even wondered if somebody would click the vote buttons hundreds of times or anonymously weigh in on something totally unrelated, like why they’ll eat spaghetti but they can’t stomach macaroni. But you were all considerate voters and commenters and only voted once and/or left me well-thought-out comments. So, before I reveal my final decision I would like to thank the 7,000   700   70 seven people who voted and/or left me a comment. I appreciate all seven of you. Well, actually, the five of you who voted. I clicked once on the Droid myself to test the voting gadget so that meant I had to click once on the iPhone also to even it out. But still, I appreciate all five of you and the comments you left.

Results From Voting

Droid ~ 1

iPhone ~ 4

So here’s what I bought: 

Yup. The iPhone. And why? Well, actually not really because of the vote although it probably did influence me.  I bought it mostly because of that little iPod icon down there in the lower right corner.

How’s it going for me you wonder? Not bad once I realized that it was just a phone and I didn’t have to be afraid of it. I’ve had my moments. Like at work one day when everybody within 12 feet of me could hear “This American Life” until my cubie-wall-mate heard me whimpering “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, where’s the speaker? How do I turn off the speaker? Sorry, sorry, sorry…” and pushed my earphone plug all the way in for me.

But each day I get a little more comfortable with it and find some new little option I didn’t know I had. I especially like being able to make my e-mail so big I can read it without reading glasses. If only I could find an app for a magnifying glass so I could read the price tags at the mall without constantly pulling out my glasses.

And then there’s the camera.  I had a little built-in phone camera with my standard flip phone but since I’d blocked the internet there wasn’t much point in taking a photo with the phone if I couldn’t send it to anybody or do anything with it. Now I can quickly take pictures of Maisie’s cute paws without having to hope she doesn’t move until I grab my camera, turn it on and focus her in.   Or I can catch the girls playing.

























 I could document how Dean and I froze our little tushes off for two hours or so at an auction and came away empty handed because somebody kept jumping in and outbidding us just before the auctioneer said “sold!” You might think we were a bit foolish to attend but I think the trophy for idiotic behavior really goes to the auctioneer who scheduled an outdoor auction in Wyoming in early March. 

Not only that,  I could take a break from shivering and sit in the car with the heater running full blast and e-mail those photos to Abby so she’d know what glorious weather she’s missing while she’s in the tropical land of Ecuador.







 

I’ve even Skyped Abby from the phone while I was at work. Of course it meant walking all over the office, talking into the phone, asking her if she “heard me now” until I finally discovered that the warehouse had the best connection.  But nobody cared because half the people I saw as I walked around were so busy texting or surfing or e-mailing from their own phones they didn’t even notice me.

So far I have no regrets. Well, there was that one moment of buyer’s remorse. I had just purchased the phone, they’d set it up and I was nearly ready to take it and leave when the sales guy told me I had a call and handed me the phone. He’d obviously been trained in the “how to respond to the deer in the headlight” look and immediately showed me how to answer. It was Leslie calling to see what choice I’d made. “I’m at the Verizon counter right now. What? What did you say? I can’t hear you. Can you talk louder? What? Can you hear me now? What? I can’t hear … I’ll call you later.” Dang, I thought. A two-year commitment and I’m not going to be able to hear anybody.  Once Mr. Verizon took off the protective plastic which was covering the ear part, things worked much better.

I've been listening to podcasts.  I’ve texted. I’ve e-mailed. I’ve texted photos. I’ve e-mailed photos. And I've done all this from the phone. The opportunities to waste time on this phone are endless. And that might not be a good thing for a blogging e-mail addict ... but … so far … I’m just having fun.



Share/Bookmark