Last Geek Standing

Along my path from home to the Atlantic Pacific stop is a hair cutters with lots of photos in the window. I walk this path everyday and, apparently, do not pay any attention. (On this street there is also a wall covered in posters. One day, while sitting across the street at Gorilla Coffee enjoying a beverage, I noticed one of these posters read: "What's the difference between a hockey mom and a killer rabbit?" And the huge graphic on the poster is a rabbit wearing lipstick. I laughed. Then I realized I had been walking by this poster for like a month and never read it. So much for advertising, even funny advertising like this.)


A few months ago, I did a retake on one of the hair style photos because one of the hair models looked alot like a young Seth Rogen. That was because it was a young Seth Rogen. It was one in a series of year book photos taken in the opening sequence for "Freeks and Geeks." (Seriously, people, if you haven't seen it yet, do so right now. You can youtube full episodes or you can borrow it from Peggy. She bought the complete series, because, you know, that girl just can't get enough.) I thought, what a great sense of humor this haircutters has that they included Freeks and Geeks among the advertised styles.

Today, I was going to Gorilla Coffee to get a pound, and I noticed that all the Freeks and Geeks photos had been taken down. All but Bill (Martin Starr). I thought, "Wow, Bill is the last man standing. That's unexpected. Why would they take down everyone but Bill?"

So I bought buy coffee and got my free cup and stared my day. On the way back home I walked past the haircutters and noticed that it the place with the yearbook photos was actually a different store. The Freaks and Geeks lovers are across the street. So much for supercuts having a sense of humor.

Now, well on my way to being caffeinated, I decided to investigate the Bill situation to see if maybe all the other yearbook photos had just fallen down. But, no, they were gone. All but Bill. On the door of ths place were lots of flyers and one jumped out at me. It said, Thank you for all your years of patronage. You can visit us at our other location." I looked up. This was actually Video Free Brooklyn. That, along with the photos from Arrested Development and The Simpsons, started to explain the presence of Seth Rogen.

I guess that means that Bill was not the last man standing, but the one that was left behind. It seems like that might happen to Bill often.

I understand why video stores can't stay open: their product (videos) has become obsolete. But their service (knowledge of and appreciation for movies and the benefits of a community of movie lovers) becomes more scarce. You can always google an actor to find his CV. But you cannot google "what's his name, you know he walks like this and has a facial tick," or any of the other phrases and movements and descriptions that we use to get to an answer from a knowledgeable human being. Like having a good wine store with staff that make helpful suggestions and steer you towards wines you would like but wouldn't otherwise try, a good staff at a video store can open up new worlds to home movie viewers.

Movies like Clerks get made when video store employees spend too much time together. Actors like Adam Brody get their starts working in Blockbuster. These stores hold a place in movie history and it is sad that they are going the way of silent film.

Adieu, Rainboots

These are my lovely rainboots that have kept my feet dry and warm through a few winters and falls and springs.




But, sadly, they will no longer be joining me in confronting the elements and the big city. They have fallen apart, but I will not. I will move forward, onward through the puddles and the slush. And I will move forward and find new boots to comfort and protect me and my toes.

On Columbia

I was walking in the cold from one science building to another when I overheard this:

"Yeah, well I just think that there is something very respectable about saying, 'This is my job. I'm going to be an artist.' And then just going out there and making art that sells. Just changing what you are making to make something people will buy in quantity."

With all the art classes I've sat through, and all the cafes I've argued in, and all the artist lectures I've attended, I have never heard anyone express that before.

Many young artists hold their credibility and their commitment to their vision above all else. Many older artist see the benefits of producing marketable work. But, I have never heard anyone say that making art to be commercial was "respectable."

People who make art to make money aren't called artists, they're called advertisers. Somebody should give that guy the memo.

On KVET

I've given up on rewriting this paper.

Ugg. Totally. Ugg.

I love KVET and I miss Austin and I love the internet.

Last night I video chat with Peggy, David, AND BOTH cats.

Listening to KVET on the internet in the basement computer lab I just heard "Old Hippie" by the Bellamy Brothers.

I think that things might actually be changing. One of the first lines says that the Old Hippie is living on the garden he grows. Because these days its self defense.

It seems like not that long ago country radio was all angry and throwing missiles at our enemies and lighting them on fire.

Maybe I really can end my self imposed exile.

Overheard while walking on campus

Man A: Yeah, I looked so bad when you saw me the other day 'cause I'd just found out I did a bad thing. A really, really bad thing.

Man B: Well, what did you do?

Man A: I had just found out that I knocked up my wife.

Man B: That's f--ing fantastic. Congratulations. So you two are both 33.

Man A: Yes, she is going to be 34...wait, what's the date today? She's going to be 34 in two days.


Ladies and Gentleman, all I can say is if a man every knocks me up, I just hope he's as much of a keeper as this gem.

If I were Veronica Mars

A few weeks ago I got a break up/make up email from a boy. And no, I don't know any boys. It was not for me. It was for another Katie C. who has a very similar email address to me.

Because I am a total snoop with no self control (and I secretly harbored hope that this was from a long lost admirer) I read the whole email. It was clearly not for me. But it did contain a long passage about a water bottle that intrigued me to no end.

Then I replied to the dude that he had the wrong Katie.

But the story continues.

This week the other Katie emailed me for verification that said emailed had really been sent. She included the line, "I know you still don't have it." Well, clearly she doesn't know me. I am a digital packrat and just because some juicy email is none of my bee's wax is no reason to discard it.

So I forwarded the email to bizarro Katie. I wonder if she disapproves of my reading and keeping it. But she did reply "thank you."

I also wonder what is going on between these two people that bizzaro Katie is emailing strangers to check up on her man.

If I were Veronica Mars I would get to the bottom of this (and it would probably involve a murder.) But, alas, I am only just a viewer of soap operas and who will sit here and speculate.

Isn't it nice to have a president elect!

In Chris Rock's latest HBO special (filmed before the election) he makes a joke that a black man can't be president because no black woman can be first lady. This is based on the premise that black women don't stand politely in the background, a la Laura Bush. You know, like a white woman. "Oh, you think you got elected president. No, we got elected president."
Like most of this routine, it made me laugh. Then I thought, "Maybe Bill Clinton was the first black president." 'Cause we all know that Hillary didn't stand politely anywhere.
Later this year, Michelle Obama was on the Jay Leno show, where she shared a story about Malia Obama. Apparently, when Malia heard that Barack had bought prime time air space to advertise his campaign she said, "Is this going to interrupt my television!"
"No," Barack said, "we did not buy time on The Disney channel or Nick."
It's a cute story, worth utubeing, because the way Michelle tells it, you can really hear how Barack talks to his family with the same calm confidence that he talks to the public.
When I look at pictures of the first family elect I think two things. First, they are a naturally good looking group of people. Its been a while since I've seen a public family that good looking and that plastic surgery free.
Then I think, that man is surrounded by too many women. Too many. Soon he will be the most powerful man in the world, and you know that won't amount to much at home. I bet they still won't cut him any breaks.

P.S. Martha Stewart just had Seal on and said to him, "Isn't it great to have a president elect who thinks like you do, who thinks like I do."
Then she made a stuffed doll out of a glove, gave it a buzz cut, and named it Obama.

Obama's hidden contribution: High School English Curricula

This is a link to the transcript of Obama's victory speech.

Throughout this campaign Obama has made headlines for his live speeches and how they excite a live audience. Recently, I read a great editorial (I can't remember where, boo) about how even though these speeches are so well delivered, they are even better read. So true.

I am just so jealous of high school seniors who will get to analyze Obama speeches. Like most aspects young life that will be improved for those who grow up with Barack Obama instead of George Bush on Pennsylvania Avenue, the AP English essays will be better. Obama's speeches are so beautifully written, dense with literary and rhetorical devices. You could write a great exposition on one of them without much effort and you could probably find enough to fill a semester's worth of essays in a single speech.

Take some time this week and look back over the transcripts from this election. It's worth it, especially if you love alliteration, allusion, juxtaposition, meter, repetition, rhyme, and all the rest from Intro to Literature. I know I do.

It's all happening!

Obama volunteers knocked on 1.8 million doors.
I knocked on 8 blocks worth of those doors.
That's what we're talking about Pennsylvania!

Main Street? Wall Street? No, Ventura Blvd.!!

“I feel like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Who are these guys that just keep coming?”
—Treasury Secretary Henry Paulson Jr.

This is a great article from the WSJ discussing California's impact on the crisis at hand.

"California doesn't have a Wall Street problem. Wall Street has a California problem," says Christopher Thornberg

I remember when I was living in LA in 2005, the height of the housing boom, and everyone was acting like there was free money everywhere. People who didn't own houses were in deep depression that they had missed out on winning the lottery, and people who did own their homes were taking out equity, as much as they could. They were paying of credit card debts, a good idea, and buying boats, a bad idea.

I was at an event for Texas Exes and a girl behind me in line told me how she was planning on living without paying the super high California rent, a plan she recommended that I also follow. You get your parents to give you a downpayment on a three unit home. Then you use the rental payments as your income to pay for the place and to qualify for the loan. If you do this with an interest only loan you can make the numbers work. Of course, property values in California are never going to go down, they are only going to continue to rise at exponential rates as they have for the past five year. So the fact that you are only paying off the interest isn't as important as the fact that soon your units will be worth three times as much. If you get a job and can start paying off the principal at any point in the future, you will still be a winner. The girl who told me this plan did not have a job, and her boyfriend was also looking for work because they had both just graduated.

Seriously, who gives a loan to someone just out of school with no income. Lots of banks did. And they deserve to fail.

Living next to all this free money that other people were getting was really hard for me. It was really unfair. Now all those people are being foreclosed on. They spent their house on a boat or credit cards. How irresponsible are Americans!

No one likes to see people on the street. And many of these people were living hand to mouth before they got free houses, so its hard to hear about them going back to that position. I think that its worth keeping in mind that these heartbreaking stories of homelessness are really stories of poverty. These are people who weren't doing that well before someone gave them a loan that they couldn't afford. They probably couldn't make rent every month.

There is a lot of data floating around about personal and public finances right now. This is an article about how much it sucks to be evicted from your home.

"Forty-four percent of employees live paycheck to paycheck, according to a survey conducted by MetLife in late 2007, and 48 percent of American households have less than $5,000 in liquid assets according to Edward Wolff, an economist specializing in the study of poverty and income distribution at New York University. "

And, the average American holds a couple grand in credit card debt. It seems like protecting people from eviction is just moving deck chairs on the Titanic. Americans as indivuals have serious financial troubles. It's hard to believe that most of these people who took out terrible loans had the financial savvy to even understand what they were doing given this data. They were used by predatory lenders. And those lenders profited while completely screwing up the housing market. In effect, denying homes to people who could afford them.

I would really like to see banks punished. The money is frozen and they are hurting, but seriously they aren't hurting enough. By giving out all that free credit, banks increased ticket prices on all of the homes in California. The same number of qualified buyers existed, and those buyers were all forced into a market with people spending Monopoly money. Those are the people you feel bad for. The ones who got a lot less house for their money and are now upside down on their loans because of attacks on housing prices. They are also the ones least likely to get any help. They have jobs and can continue to pay their responsibly financed mortgages, but they probably won't see that money back soon, maybe ever. That person could have been me!

Saving some for later

Today I was feeling a little congested and my nose was a bit stuffy. So, like the lady that I am, I excused myself to the restroom to blow my nose.

My day continued with a hour of Physics tutoring. It made me hungry to think so hard, so I ate a sandwich.

Later, back in the lady's room using the facilities, I noticed a big yellow thing hanging off my nose.

In shock, disgust and humiliation I relived the time between then and blowing my nose. I had spent an hour talking one on one with someone and the whole time something was hanging out of my nose. How gross!

I wiped away the offending matter, only to discover that it was, in fact, not a booger, but a benign bit of egg salad. The day was relived, again, this time without shame, for the egg salad had been on my face for only a few minutes.

What a relief!

Now that is not what you would expect to say after finding you had lunch on your face for half an hour. Think about that next time you save a little for later. At least its not a booger, and at least it wasn't there all day.

You can't choose your family...

In the past I've expressed my appreciation for Heroes here. And I stand behind all of it; its a well executed ensemble that makes it fun to watch tv.

What I am really impressed by, however, is the marketing. Ads for Heroes are more fun than complete shows. "Save the cheerleader. Save the world." What was that all about? The whole show was summed up by one line. Thanks to The Superbowl, everyone in America knew that line. Most couldn't say what it meant, even those who watched the show weren't that certain. We all knew who the cheerleader was, but what did she have to do with saving the world? You didn't need to know to enjoy the drama of it all. It was a powerful ad.

And this new ad campaign is just as riveting. It reminds me of a story that Peggy told me recently. The gist was: people get their political tendencies from their parents, just like their religion. So when you wouldn't expect someone to change their religion, why do you think you can talk them out of their politics.

The answer is:
You can't choose your family. But you can choose a side.

I love Halloween, and I love you, too, Brooklyn

Halloween is Martha Stewart's favorite holiday. I understand why; it involves lots of crafts and not much family. You get to fully enjoy the cuteness of other people's children (and, if you live in New York, other people's dogs) in the best possible way. They look cute and they like you. 'Cause you give them what they want: candy. Sure, too much sugar causes kids to go crazy hyper and for their teeth to rot out. But, like our current government, you think solely of the benefits, to you, at the moment. You can enjoy the instant gratification of happy kids without the taking responsibility for the sugar crash, or cleanup. And for a marginally higher up front cost, you can be the best person in the neighborhood by for handing out full sized Snickers. The best person ever, really.

I love costumes and fall and candy. So I, too, love halloween. Is it my favorite? Well, it certainly is right now. October is like the anti-February. Everything is great and the air is crisp and there are good veggies at the market and there are so many things to be happy about. February just sucks. Ask anyone. That's why they had to make it the shortest month.

So, besides (above) awesome and of over the top political pumpkin my neighbor put out, what is so great bout Brooklyn right now?

1) Someone has "vandalized" the restrooms at the Brooklyn Public Library with an 8 1/2 by 11" sticker of the Bill of Rights. How great is that! Something you actually should know there for you to read. Just because everyone I know is a lawyer, sometimes I actually get caught looking dumb when I don't know which right goes with which number. Most people don't know that crap. Unless you live in Brooklyn, and use the restroom at the library, conveniently located on the edge of the park.

(The library is beautiful and totally worth stopping by if you find yourself in the 11215)

2) This week my roommate lost a necklace from Tiffany. She was understandably upset and went on Craigslist to post a "lost" on the lost and found only to find that someone had already posted a "found" of her necklace. Someone found her jewelery in it's little Tiffany bag on our subway platform and went to the trouble to post it and return it. Lauren said, "I love Craigslist. I love Brooklyn. I love New York. I love life." Isn't that just the best.

Ahh BK

Bar on 5th Ave. (5th ave. Brooklyn, people. Brooklyn! Not what you're thinking)

Debate special

Obama cocktail: $5
McCain: $7

So I ask: "Do you really want to know what is in the McCain."

Kmart Layaway

Are you kidding me! Are things really that bad!

This makes me so sad

topical comics

This is how I play baseball. Ahh, baseball. I do love Shea and I do love Enron Field. I also love to knit.

thingsiboughtthatilove.com just really disappointed me

thingsiboughtthatilove.com has just gone password protected. It is now a blog by invitation only.

What up Mindy! What up?

First you get your blog URL published in multiple news-sources, and if that's not an invitation and advertisement to readership then I don't know what is. Then, you stop writing for several months. I figured, "Hey, the writer's strike ended so maybe she has real work to do. I can be patient. I can." But, now, you have password protected your material.

What is up? That is all I can say. What is up?

I haven't felt this upset about something like this since they cancelled Veronica Mars. With V. Mars, sure, I saw it coming. The story was petering out; there were talks of Kristen Bell getting other gigs; actors who played minor characters were seen on other shows. Still, I was just living for new episodes, and watching the DVD of old ones too much, just too much. The story picked up and it looked like they might be able to take it somewhere. There was hope. And, then, with one double episode finale, it was gone, replace by The Pussycat Dolls. All that hope had just been wishful thinking.

This is just as bad. Just as bad. I have been waiting; I read the back log; I gave J. Crew another look. I know that blogs get abandoned all the time. People get bored with the concept or just bored with all that typing. It looked like maybe shoes would be the last entry. I was preparing myself, giving up. But, still, maybe she just was too busy to write. Maybe she just didn't have time to shop. Maybe she would come back, when we need her most, when the economy had gone to shit and there was a heightened need to be shopping vicariously. Shopping vicariously with someone in one of the two recession proof American industries. (Ahh, now a blog about what a Mafiosa liked to buy, that's an idea. But, no, a Hollywood shopper is just as fun, and probably better written. Probably. You hear that, that's how upset I am. I won't even concede that a murdered wouldn't write as well as you, Mindy. A murderer from New Jersey.)

And just in time for the stock market to drop below 8,000 for the first time in five years, she's back. It looks like there might be more blurbs on great products that could change your life. Just not for me. No things for me. Ugg. Seriously, ugg. I can only sit here and think wistfully of the great new products and silhouettes that I'm missing.

Times are tough

I went to Target today to buy a bunch of colorful index cards and markers, because if I'm gonna be spending this much time making and learning from flashcards, they better as hell look good.

At checkout I paid with a credit card and at signing the little machine asked me if I wanted to accept the signature or "also pay with other method."

Really! I asked the checkout technician if people often paid with multiple credit cards. They do. That's how hard times are out here. A fill up takes 3 cards because of the $50 limit, but soap and toilet paper take two cards because you are wayyy over extended. Ouch.

Yummy Yummy

Fall produce is just one of the season's many charms. I love summer berries, but by the end of summer aren't you ready for apples and root veggies and squash?

The cold weather asks for warm foods, for heavy cream and butter. This is how you get fat. So instead of grabbing for a pound cake or calling out for curry (yum!), go for some greens. Kundalinis believe that the reason we get sick in the winter is that we eat too many sweets made with white sugar and not enough green stuff. So many people pound the vitamin C and ecanacia at the first sign of a cold. But, really, tough green foods have just as many vitamins and the combo may be more effective. I have no real data to back this up. But it definitely tastes better and warms you up, too. Its just like a nice nap blanket for your tummy.

While making this dish of peas and lettuce on her television show, Nagella Lawson waxed orgastic about the joys of staring into a bowl of green on a cloudy winter day. I can't agree more. I have been staring into a bowl of chard with garlic and red pepper flakes, a la Alice Waters, for the past two weeks.

Then, I'll make a dish of squash and red bell peppers on the side, because the bell peppers have been great this fall and doesn't it just add the right amount of color. I'm thinking of how Obama tried to make every meal at the DNC have one each of five colors. He took some heat for that. But, once again, the man is a leader, and a leader looking to take us in the right direction.

This weeks Dining In/Dining Out has a great little ditty about the intersection of growing seasons for chard and peppers. I love chard. I hope to make this recipe this week.

I hear that after the hurricane my father really relished trashing the chard that I had bought and left in his fridge. Well, that's fine, but I think that this casserole might make him a chard convert. It looks really yummy and really rich. So, one of you gentle readers out there should make this casserole and take it over to him and tell him that its a broccoli casserole. He will eat it and love it and talk about how underrated broccoli is. This is one of my favorite of my father's rants. He is completely right; broccoli tempura is fantastic, cream of broccoli soup rocks, and broccoli stir fry is also a lovely little surprise. After this rant, tell him that it was chard all along.

New Haircut, Again, uhh.

"You just keep thinkin' Butch, that's what you're good at"

Paul Newman.

I've been feeling pretty sad about Paul Newman; he made some great movies, and was also a genuinely good person. His smiling face was an ever-present part of my childhood, staring out of the salad dressing. Discovering that he was also a movie star was like realizing that my parents have really important jobs that have nothing to do with me.

The first Paul Newman movie I watched was The Color of Money. It was back when Tom Cruise was a hottie. I watched it with my grandmother, who just kept talking about Newman. He was getting up in years when that movie was filmed, but he still looked great.

Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid is one of my all time favorite movies. It has everything you could ask for in a movie. Its just perfect.

Earlier this week I surprised myself my starting to cry while reading an obituary in the food section. It detailed Newman's contributions to organic connivence foods and to American farmers. (Newman's Own was the first microwave popcorn on the market to not contain trans fats.) The Newman's Own foundation has contributed over 250 millions dollars to charitable funds. The brand helped change the way out supermarket isles look, turning the clock back on overprocessed foods. He is like an Alice Waters whose audience doesn't live in Berkeley and already be environmentalist foodies.

This photo is part of the tribute in Entertainment Weekly. The first thing I thought was: "Look at Los Angeles. Look at those undeveloped mountains. Look at that clean beach." Earlier this summer I wrote about Robert Redford mourning environmental changes in Los Angeles and Austin. I thought about how sad it must have been to watch the negative changes at the beach and in the air. I'm sad that Paul Newman died, and I'm sad that Los Angeles, which was once so perfect, is approaching unlivable. I bet Robert Redford is, too.

Last week, I saw that Newman's Own now sells chardonnay. I might walk down to the store and pick some up to go with my organic popcorn and another screening of Butch.

Its not so bad

With all the excitement about the stock market, things might be looking down right now. But, did you know that NASA witnessed snow on Mars. Ahh, Yeah! Snow on Mars. They actually saw it snowing. None of this, "well, we have found trace elements suggesting water." We're done with that old run around.

Human knowledge is so vast and is still growing so fast. Way to go, NASA. You're not just a cold war relic. You, even more than Michael Phelps, are a source for national pride at a time when we really need some. NASA is evidence that Americans are willing to put forth resources for the advancement of human knowledge, that we aren't selfish and greedy and illeducated. And this shows that we really aren't that bad at science and math.

Can you imagine! Snowing on Mars, on the red planet whose terrain like the desert in New Mexico. What a great time to be alive.

Bill Cunningham

I love Bill Cunningham, and I understand that watching a downpour at Bryant Park is awesome. But look at this. One of the stills shows a woman from behind trying to keep her bottom covered in the wind. Did you really need to publish this photo, Bill? She is just trying to be modest and you showed the world a photo of her grabbing at her butt. Now, is that fair!

Why I heart Heroes

Ultimately, Heroes is just a good tv show. It isn't transcending the medium or changing the way we live: it just shows up once a week and delivers some well produced, seriously entertaining, moving images. Really solid story telling. This week's Heroes ended with a intense montage narrated by the Yeats Poem "The Second Coming." I enjoyed the literary nod, and it really did deliver.

The poem has been used often in film, and because of the strong language it is a great tool to up the drama. I just love it. For the same reasons I love Heroes, big boldness. (That sort of sounds like a wsj wine review. Well, there you go. This poem would probably make a great Thanksgiving dinner accompanying Cab.)

"The Second Coming"

Turning and turning in the widening gyre

The falcon cannot hear the falconer;

Things fall apart; the center cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The best lack all conviction, while the worst

Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;

Surely the Second Coming is at hand.

The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out

When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi

Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert

A shape with lion body and the head of a man,

A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,

Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it

Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.

The darkness drops again; but now I know

That twenty centuries of stony sleep

Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,

And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,

Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

Seriously, guys. What rough beast will soon be upon us? Tell me!

And, while you are at it, check out Yeats. Kinda a cool guy.

Com'on people! Its September 28!

Somebody get Al Gore on the phone: this weather is as unacceptable as his hanging chad problems! (Well, maybe not that unacceptable.)

Last Sunday I watched the Packers play the Cowboys in Lambeau. Fall had arrived. I wanted to enjoy the cool night air through an open window-unit-less window, so my roommate's bf took out the unit.

Well we are now having the grossest September weather and I just started to sweat. The stats for the day are 65/74 and raining. It is super humid. I am consoled by the thought that the ac might not even help now. Sometimes you just can't fight gross.

Conclusions for the week

This is a kitty burrito. Who came up with that!


Chipotle Burritos: I always cut them in half and wrap up the second half for dinner so that I don't eat 460-890 calories (see menu) in one sitting and become a cow. This week I twice dug into the second half and ate until my tummy hurt. (yeah, why was I even there twice in one week? I eat at Chipltle all the time. Whatever, its close to campus and the uws is slim pickin's). However about the eating a whole burrito in one sitting: Just don't do it. Just don't. Just stop.

Fall: It is a sweaty 65 degrees. I don't know what is up with that. But its raining and humid and not quite really cold. I'm just loving the change.

the iphone: it's trying to get to me

Disclaimer: I understand that all you iphone users out there love your babies. I'm not trying say anything bad about them, I'm just going to discuss my preferences.

So the iphone: what is the deal with the iphone? People freakin' love their apple products. However, I've spend way to many minutes of my life on a cell phone that didn't do its job: to be a phone. The jury is still out on how the iphone will rate as a phone. I've also come to love my verizon service, which does its job well. After seeing the iphone's big movie break in SatC when Carrie says "I don't know what to do with this," I sort of feel like it is just one more gadget in my life that be bring me one closer to too many.

What is my point? Do I just really love hating on the iphone? Well, yes, but I also have a point. Just now, while at the itunes store purchasing "Apologize" by Timaland, I saw that they have a graphing calculator app. This made me think, Wow, I could really go for an iphone. It turns out that the app still isn't bug free-it crashes the phone, and like most high school students I've met, uses the wrong order of operations. But, still, I do love my graphing calculator. I'm having fantasies of, in the manner of those who can't compute tax unaided, busting out my phone to do some math. But then, instead of doing a simple 20%, I would do, like do a little multi-variable equation using a matrix. Oh, Bob and Tom both made purchases using only dimes and quarters, and between them they used 30 dimes, and both purchases totaled $5.30. Don't worry I've got it. Let me just pull out my phone.

Oh, man, am I a dork.

Sometimes people ask me if I ever use calculus. My answer: well often my Dad uses calculus recreationally. Example: on a ski trip he ended a conversation with: "well, you just take a derivative of the mountain.

So the real question is nature or nurture.

Autumn has arrived!

One of the worst things about growing up in Houston was back to school advertising. You're sitting there dreading the end of freedom, looking at young, happy people all bundled up on plaids and wools and its 100 degrees with 80 percent humidity. You're not getting anywhere near a layer for two months, at least. Historically, Houston's September is warmer than Houston's June. September is really the last month of summer in Houston, not the first month of fall.

Well, here in New York, we have been having a very Houston-like fall. It has been hot and humid and a bit disappointing. I just love fall so much, and it's keeping me at bay. We've all grown bored of the heat and no one has time to go to the beach. It's just too late in the year for a sweaty commute.

Today I saw a red coffee cup and my heart jumped at the thought of gingerbread lattes and Thanksgiving. To my chagrin, it wasn't a holiday S'bucks cup, it was just red.

But in the absence of beautiful crisp windy weather, the autumnal light has just snuck up on me. It is nearly the equinox and the change in angle of the sun has become apparent. The light is dimmer and crisper; it looks cold.

Even though the thermostat is still in the 70's, out the window you expect to see students in wool and scarves and sweaters. And boy, am I ready for wool. I'm ready for fall and winter. I'm ready for sweaters and boots and jackets and excuses to be lazy. I'm ready for snowed in weekends with a DVD and an afghan, a bottle of wine, and maybe something a little warmer, like a cat, or a boy.

Every one's a critic

First Cheeseboomboom and now this guy.

Unionpool

Yesterday my friend texted me:

6:52 pm Wanna go to the Union Pool in BK?

So, because pools are one of my passions, I said of course I wanna go. FYI, I have no idea where Union Pool is.

7:20 pm Going to union pool at around 1030-11

However, because of a volunteer commitment I had on Saturday morning I said I wouldn't make it until 1. At this point I told a friend I was going swimming on Saturday. We discussed the rain predicted in the weather forecast and confirmed that neither of us has hear of Union Pool or knew where it was.

10:18 pm Gonna be at union pool around 1115pm

I thought that this was just a mass email confirming Saturday morning swim time. I ignored it and planned on arriving at 1pm.

Then, at about 11:55pm as I was just falling asleep, I got a phone call asking if I was coming out.

12:02 am I'm at union pool!

So, I feel like a fool. Unionpool is a club and there were people playing music there last night. I missed it because I just went back to sleep. I feel a bit vindicated because no one I've talk to today had ever heard of Unionpool.

Celebrity Look Alike!

Where's George

This is what I've been doing instead of gearing up for school. I thought that this old ragged bill I found must have traveled, however, there wasn't much info. I am party to blame since the bill has been in my possession for the past six months.

I can't get enough

Watching The Situation Room running continuous biographical sketches of Sarah Palin is as good as the tear jerking clips from the Olympics. This woman is a hero of Alaska and the religious right; its just as moving as those clips about the 30 year old gymnast and the 40 year old woman competing.

It's worth noting that the reason we need all this background is that very few Americans or CNN viewers are either Alaskan or members of the religious right.

ahh, childhood as an adult

Several things have happened recently that have made me feel like a child.

One: I now have a bed that I can actually crawl under thanks to the joy of 7 in. risers. And crawl under it I have several times to arrange all my stuff neatly.

Two: As a child I thought it was hilarious to look up furniture stores in the yellow pages, call them, and ask, "What is your cheapest chair?" In retrospect, it was sort of pathetic how poorly the question was answered. Usually, something like, "Well we have a lot chairs, what specific kind were you looking for." Seriously, look at your catalogue listing and answer the question.
This has come up because I am looking to unload the cheapest chair at IKEA. IKEA's cheapest chair, one year used, with a large coffee stain: how much is that worth? Posted on craigslist under free for two days. One response, asking for a photo. Not to promising. Seriously, people: free. Soon it will be sitting on the street where hopefully someone will take it home. The cheapest chair, not even wanted for free.

Three: My whole like I coveted CapriSun drinks. The fun squishiness, the whole ordeal of putting the straw in the hole on top and not all the way through both sides of the pouch: it was so fun. My mother never bought them for me as a child because they were full of sweeteners, and they weren't real juice. As an adult I still coveted them, but I read labels, and they are full of corn syrup, which we all know is poison for kids and adults.
So today in Target while looking for snacks for the beach I spot HonestKids fruit pouches! My dream come true: real juice in foil looking squishy pouches. Because I was in a hurry and because it was freaking HonestKids I did not read the label as I usually do. Well, Honest my foot. They are full of organic cane sugar and water and organic flavors. Its not going to rot your teeth because its organic sugar? Ten percent juice: are they serious! I railed about this for some time in a loud voice, not exactly beach mood music, but I had something to say. But, just between you and me, they were pretty delicious. As Erin pointed out, each one has have the sugar and calories as regular "fruit drinks" so when I drank two it was like I was having a single traditional teeth rotter.

No Sleep 'Til Brooklyn

I can't tell you how happy I am to be back in Park Slope.

The price of this privilege is a significant amount of square footage in the bedroom. So the bed has been raised 7 inches to accommodate storage and the furniture is going public or going on the curb. While this coincides with earlier pledges to live light, I'm still feeling inconvenienced. And because all my crap is in the living room (also know as "common area") where it is cramping not only me but my lovely roommates, I'm feeling a bit of urgency to jettison the non essentials.

If you are in need of a desk, lamp, chair, or bookshelf, give me a holler. Or, check for my posts on craigslist.

Worst Fortune Cookie Fortune Ever

The Other Line Always Moves Faster

This is my life?

Today walking on the path in central park

Me (taking my earbud out while walking towards a man who was walking towards me on the path): Is that a Labradoodle?

Man (slightly out of breath from walking): No, its a Goldendoodle

(the two women he just passed stop to turn around and mumble to each other, clearly impressed)

Help, I'm homeless (Well, might be soon)

All day I have been writing:

I am writing in response to your apartment listing on Craigslist. Please call me to set up an appointment to view the apartment.

Bla, bla, bla

Apartment hunting is tiring work. Especially when you don't even know where you want to live.
My feet are sore and my legs are sticky sweaty. At least the weather has stayed in the comfortable 70's and I got a cool new duffel bag last night at the Mets Astros game. I have to say, I was impressed by the Mets fans continued enthusiasm and proud of those 'stros. 8-3: not to shabby! Too bad its doesn't mean much this late in the season.

Six of one, half dozen of the other

Earlier this week, I was listening to a country music morning show during my morning run. (At this point in my telling of this story, Peggy said, "Why were you doing that?" She has a point, because morning shows are bad, and country dj's are the worst. But I got caught between songs, and I do love some country songs.) Like 97.9, there were two male and one female djs. The topic was how women's magazines depict men. DJ no. 1 claimed that by interviewing emotional, loving, caring men, the magazines were doing a disservice to women: men don't act like that. Dj no. 2 then joked that he was "half a man" because he was in touch with his feelings. The female dj announced she preferred men of the Kevin Kline mold. Then dj no. 1 posed the scenario: if your house is being invaded, which would you rather have, a touching feeling man or a man who would empty a clip.

First of all, if you marry someone based upon what he will do in the most unlikely of events, you are a fool. This path of logic detracts from the conversation, and we can just file that into the thick folder of what annoys me about morning djs.

I am unlike most Texans in that I don't want a gun in my house and I don't think that it will protect me. (While writing this, I can hear the voices of fellow Texans telling me that announcing I don't have a gun makes me vulnerable to attackers who prey on the undefended.) Statistically, gun owners are more likely to shoot a member of their family than anyone else, and their guns can be used against them in an attack. This is more common for women who are untrained to use said gun. Texans who keep guns aren't really swayed by logical arguments like this. If attacked, they want to be able to protect their families, an understandable impulse. Where we disagree is on the ability of gun ownership to accomplish this.

This year, my parents house was broken into while we were home and asleep. It was scary as hell. Someone picked off the molding on a window and took the window off the track. This caused the security system to beep, waking up my dad and Luigi. Luigi charged down the stairs, barking, and the burglar was gone by the time my dad turned on a light. This cemented my belief that having a good dog is way better than a handgun.

In the following weeks we learned that everyone has a burglary story. One friend of a friend was tied up in her home while it was burglarized, and spent the time chatting with her captor. He told her that if she really wanted to prevent this from happening in the future, a dog was her best bet. She now has three large dogs. Other friends had a burglar jump out of their plate glass window to escape and he bled on all of their things. So even though he didn't steal that much, they had to replace the carpet, the window, and several pieces of furniture.

The best story, however, is that one of my friends had his house invaded when he was a child. His dad did empty a clip. There were no direct hits, so really he emptied a clip into his wall, not the intruder. The burglar fired back and then ran away. The part of the story my friend loves is that his dad ran upstairs and into the bedroom, threw the gun at his wife, and yelled, "Reload!" To this my mom said, "And you wonder why they aren't married anymore."

My friend loves this story about his parents, and he thinks that it is an argument for gun ownership. Now, I am impressed that his dad had a loaded gun that he got to in time to use during an attack. I would think that, like a nail clippers, a gun would never be handy when you really need it. But it makes me wonder how well protected my friend was from finding the gun himself when he was a small child. But this is the Texan argument that everyone is armed, so you'd better be armed, too. This story makes me very uncomfortable because it could have so easily ended differently.

There are few things I can imagine that would be as terrible as watching someone empty a clip into a burglar and then having that burglar bleed to death in my home. Having to replace all my furniture and carpets because they were blood stained would probably (I can't say for certain) be more traumatic than having them stolen. The question that Peggy and I can't agree upon is which would be worse, if that shooter was your dad or your husband. In one case, you're a little kid seeing a dead body, and in the other, you are actually married to, you chose to live with, this guy who just murdered someone.

Overheard at the Dogpark

This is what I heard some lady, who was wearing shorts and a t-shirt and running shoes, tell some guy at the dogpark this week.

"So this guy only wore two t-shirts. Whenever I saw him, he was either wearing one or the other. [I thought she was talking about someone at the dogpark, and having a few dogpark shirts seemed like a good idea, because you get all muddy at the park. But I was wrong.] And when he asked me out, all I could think about was his two t-shirts. I couldn't get past it. So then he went out with my friend Brenda.

So, you know, all I ever wanted to do was marry my highschool sweetheart, have four children, and be a stay at home mom. Well, Brenda married him after high school. He went to the Airforce Academy where he coached football. I love football. And now they have four children. And she doesn't work. I just keep thinking, maybe if they didn't have any kids. Or maybe if she had to work as a secretary. But no. If I had just not focused on those two t-shirts.

That's what I tell my kids. I tell that that if I hadn't been so shallow I would have my dreamlife."

At this point the guy she was talking to asked her, incredulously, if she really told her children that. She said that she told the children she taught at school.

"You know, I love Paul [I assume this is her husband]. I am happy with Paul. Oh, no, I would never tell him this"

So, that's the lesson folks. Get over how shallow you are now, so that you won't have to spend the rest of your life coveting your ex-best friend's life.

B O to the X

There are many things to love about Houston; there are also many things that I miss about Houston when I am gone. These lists include several good and some mediocre restaurants, good friends and humid nights driving around with the windows down and the music up top both lists. I love me some poppy hip hop late at night. When my life takes me far away and I feel wistful for Houston, I seek out internet radio of Houston stations and queso.

But there are things about a summer in Houston that just can't be faked or replicated: my great tan with freckles that the boys seem to like to much (call me pretty and I'll melt like lemon sherbet), achieved from a summer in the pool with the kiddies, the self discipline to leave some enchilada on the plate, attained by an unshakable faith that there absolutely will be more tomorrow, and the deep and varied cultural knowledge that comes with listening to a summer's worth of 97.9 morning shows. The topics range from the mundane to the profane, and some conversations have left me speechless.

The show topped my must-listen list when they preached the gospel of "no one wants to see a bunch of men get together on the dance floor and booty dance." Now, this is something I have never seen, but I don't get out that much. The best part of that show was when one of the dj's went through, by age group, how unacceptable this behavior is. The word seems to have gotten to the 23-35 age group of men, and they don't get up on each other at the club. The morning show was trying to get the message to the kids age 15-23 that men did not need to be booty dancing with other men. I guess if you under age 16, like nine years old, then it is youthful and fun to dance with anyone. But with a driver's license comes other adult responsibilities, one being only dance with girls, or, just let the girls dance with each other. I guess people like to watch women dance together. What a double standard!

Some days the topics are more serious. Last week they played a parody of the background noise when John McCain spoke at the NAACP. Black people really don't give a crap for John McCain, so you can imagine what farce. Later, they brought up the notorious "Blackman," the stereotype about black men and child rearing. The phone lines lit up for that one.

But today's show really took the cake. Men who sag their pants are at risk to being sodomized.
Yeah, that's what the drive time morning show was about. Seriously. I tuned in just in time to hear a County jail employee describe a foul game played in prison. Nine men get naked in a circle and wrestle and whoever penetrates first is the winner. What! What! It takes a lot to render a dj speechless, but this scenario did it. They tried to move on to morning prayers. But then they came back. Why would anyone play this game? The conclusion was that there are no winners.

Keepin' it weird, luau style

I love the sound of a steel drum: it takes me right into any movie set in Hawaii. As it turns out, this is completely due to Hollywood (or to my imagination) because the steel drum is an instrument of African decent. Perhaps movie makers superimposed the music of their Caribbean vacations onto their Hawaiian vacation movies? Or, maybe I just can't keep my mood music straight.

This weekend I was lucky enough to find myself at Barton Springs where I momentarily found myself feeling a little Aloha. My first guess was that all the bikinis were to credit for this mini mind vacation. However, it was discovered that there was a man playing a propane tank that had been turned into a steeldrum. Whoa! It is called a Hank Drum and you can make one, too! Here's a video of a Hank Drum being played. Despite all those new condos, Austin still knows how to keep it weird.

A shoutout to the babies at Memorial Park

In general, babies should be grateful that they are so cute, 'cause they score really low on personality. If I just stared off into space and drooled would you be friends with me? Nope, don't think so. I'm not cute like a baby.

When parents strap their twins together in a double stroller and go running, its double bla. One baby in a stroller usually just stares out into space, inviting inquires to how a human can stand to be that bored. And with two its like they are watching two movies screened simultaneously at two different points in the distance. Given facial expressions, the movies aren't edge-of-your-seat action, definitly not a Borne movie: Remains of the Day, perhaps. I just want to yell, "What are you looking at, babies!"

Today I saw a twin stroller with a set of twins in it. I could tell that one was a girl and one was a boy because they were wearing red and blue baseball caps. Wardrobe like this can't help when trying to make friends. However, these babies were cool. Way cool. The little boy (blue cap) was hitting and tickling his sister (red hat). But she was holding her own, poking him back and squealing. Their actions screamed, "You can buckle us in together and dress us like dorks, but you can't make us behave like lobotomy victims, or like we like each other."

It was nice to see rebellion against a world of matching clothes and family togetherness (mom and dad were both running together with the babies at 8am, way to late in the day for people planning on going to work). So, for today at least, let's score one for babies, proving that you can be cool regardless of your stature in life.

Make Love not Law Review

Peggy has some important job with the Texas Law Fellowship, an organization which somehow helps out law students who go into the public interest sector; because my understanding of the specifics are hazy, I will remain vague. But whatever her role, it left her with many t-shirts, mugs, and other swag branded "Make Love not Law Review." My understanding of how this relates to public interest law is hazy, but its a great slogan and I am considered adopting it as my personal motto.

I love running in the T-shirt Peggy gave me. I also like to run in my Pope tshirt, and "makelovenotlawreiew" just kicks the pope's booty in terms of attractive gym wear. Unlike the pope shirt, which flares out around my hips, giving me lovely accentuated saddle bags, "law review" fits just well enough to be flattering without being too tight to comfortably sweat in. Also, wearing a shirt that says something cloy about law school makes me look both smart enough to get into law school and irreverent in a fun way, which is sort of the opposite of the connotation of a pope shirt, which says "I don't believe in premarital sex so don't even ask."

Anyway, today I ran three miles on the Memorial trail (go me! woo woo!) and that was awesome, and it left me awesomely drenched. The obvious thing to do when you get so sweaty that dumping a glass of water on your head doesn't leave a wet spot on your shirt because the whole shirt is that wet is to change clothes. However, it is Houston in the summer and I've been showering and changing clothes three times a day and I'm so over it. So I just went ahead and wore that wet shirt to Sbucks and the dog park.

Apparently, all the middle aged lawyers in the neighborhood start their mornings at Sbucks around 8:30. I just tried to get out with my free iced coffee (it looks good, doesn't it?) in time for Luigi not to overheat in the car, a challenge because my shirt was such a hit. Its definitely funny, but those lawyers were so excited that I can tell the bar is set pretty low for law comedy. (I guess there are only so many jokes that involve the word "bar.") One guy laughed really hard and just kept saying, "that brings back memories." He looked old enough to have actually protested Vietnam, but then he asked me if I was a third year or if I had finished, and it became obvious that he was so impressed because he thought of law school as a war. All I have to say about that is good luck to Peggy, being a young attractive lawyer in this town full of old, unattractive men who think that having law school in common is enough to warrant a conversation. (Yeah, the law puns just keep coming.)

So, armed with my icy beverage, I drove on, SuperLuigi perched on the sunroof opening, tongue flying. And who arrived at the park the same time we did but some dude I went to high school with and haven't seen since. Now I know how my mother used to feel when she would run into acquaintances at the coffee shop after her runs. I was totally distracted by the fact that I probably smelled like severe BO. Also, I have no idea what dog park etiquette is. You can't really just say hi and then go on your way like the mall or a restaurant. Are you supposed to talk the whole time you're there? When you run out of pleasantries, is it rude to walk your dog away down the trail? Do you wait when the other person has to go and pick up poop? "Excuse me, my dog is taking a crap over there and your dog seems really excited about smelling and eating it." How do you politely say that? I feel all this rendered me only half the conversationalist.

But by far the highlight of the dog park was the new toy Aunt Trish gave me for Luigi, the chuckit. Practicing at home last night I repeatedly had problems with the release and sent the ball into the swimming pool. Justifiably, I was a bit worried about appearing completely uncoordinated as the park, full of people who are adept with their dog toys. After a prelude explaining that it was a new toy and hopefully absolving me of any misfires, I picked up a tennis ball and launched it into an open area by the dog pond. It was a release I felt proud of with a good amount of power behind it, and I looked up to see the ball fly fast and high off the ground, right into some guy's leg.

It was really funny, and I was really embarrassed. If the dude had even flinched I would have yelled an apology, but since he didn't look around I didn't. I just laughed so hard I had to take a conversation break. William noted, there was nothing to feel bad about because that guy had clipped his Doberman's ears. He totally deserved getting zinged in the ankle.

So, I will leave you with a few words of advise. No.1: if you want to wear sweaty clothes anywhere but the trail or the gym, be ready to have long conversations in them. No.2: if you perform elective surgery on your pets, beware. I'll be watching, ready to chuck a tennis ball at you. My speed and aim are improving exponentially, so that is no empty threat.

ahh summer

Today I ran three miles at Memorial Park, a quite, natury dirt trail just off 610 then drove around green, green Houston with the sunroof open and the windows down listening to the new Maroon 5 cd. I'm may not be able to communicate how great it was.

Who among us doesn't love a good honky tonk

Last week my new friend invited me to go out with her friends for her birthday. I asked where they go in Houston when they go out, and she named several clubs that I had never heard of, but I pretended that I had. Then I admitted that my friends and I go out to very, very divey bars. The places we go are pretty much as close as there is to a modern honky tonk.

Wikipedia says that a Honky Tonks is:
"a type of bar with musical entertainment common in the Southwestern and Southern United States."

But there is so much more to it than that. It also implies dancing and some shady characters, and I don't mean the James Dean type of shady. I mean some old drunk guy in the corner who looks and smells like he hasn't showered in a few days and wants to tell you something in your ear. Also, there might be some women there with questionable dental plans. A long, long time ago a friend was trying to explain what a honky tonk was to her Welsh boyfriend and he said, "so its a bar that says honky tonk on it?" and she so quotably replied, "No, if it says its a honky tonk, it is most definitly not a honky tonk."
I have several favorite honky tonks in Houston, but, due purely to proximity, The Alabama Icehouse is currently my favorite. Not only can I walk home, but I can walk Luigi there. It is as much fun as the dogpark, and it is coming to resemble one.

Luigi was so happy to be going somewhere new that he pulled my mother's arm for the second have of the walk. Then he was doubly excited because Gabby was there. As my father later put it, Luigi must have thought the Gabby had been at the icehouse all that time he didn't see her.

Dogs are great fun, and so is beer, and so is the tamale guy who comes by just when you really, really could go for a tamale, but the highlight of the night was when the band played the greatest country western song ever. We all sang along and loved it. If you don't know this song, look up the lyrics. You never know when you might be called upon to sing it in a bar. Near the end of the song the singer typically stops singing to talk about the song. Well, at Alabama the singer changed the words, "momma, or trains, or trucks" to "trailers, or crystal meth, or incest." Whoa, was that funny! We might be sittin' in a honky tonk, but it's a honky tonk in the middle of Montrose, so we know how to be cheeky about it. HA.

Lizards!

Hot and muggy are the two adjectives most often used to describe Houston weather. While these words have a negative connotation and Houston is not exactly a summer vacation destination, I love Houston summer. I love, love, love Houston summer! It is hot, hot, hot all day long only to cool off around eight pm, all the way down to the low 80's. That's the perfect time to take a walk around the neighborhood, drink a cold beer in the backyard or visit your local icehouse. Most days gully washers, the dramatic thunderstorms that take out trees and momentary knock out the lights, come through around 4pm, leaving a nice heavy mist in the air.

Some people call this condition ninety percent humidity, but I call it the setting for a magical realism story. The style originated in Latin America, but Houston shares the tropical weather pattern of One Hundred Years of Solitude, so why not!
For me, one of the most magical things about Houston is the lizards. Once the rain (or the sprinkler) stops, the sidewalks become alive. When we lived in Westbury, I only saw one type of lizard: it was a cool little chameleon, and there were lots of them. But now I see so many different lizards. It is just blowing my mind. My whole life people have been telling me about lizards that lose their tails when they are scared or attacked, but I never saw one. This summer I have seen all kinds of lizards in the multiple stages of tail regrowing.
There are the unharmed, very, very long tails. And while I don't have a photo of a completely tailess lizard, I have seen them. It turns out it is quite difficult to photograph a lizard. Especially those that have recently had a bad experience with a predator. Who is that predictor you ask. My mother's cat, Driver. He's a killer. But I guess every epic story needs at least one killer.

It's hard out here for a pimp (on a metro bus)

This week, a metro bus in Houston hit a mini van and crashed into a BMW dealership. It happened in the emerging neighborhood of midtown. This story is just a great little metaphor for Houston living.

Oh, how I love weather!

Houston has been especially dry and hot this summer. We a nice big thunderstorm everyday at 4pm, just like Oprah. But, for the past four weeks that didn't happen, resulting in dry, heat that makes evenings outside feel like sitting in a convection oven. The heat has broken records, but the humidity has been low. You sweat profusely, but it doesn't soak your shirt.

At swim camp, we a make-up day once a week, anticipating that the weather will rain (or thunder) out lessons. So far we have had to use all of our Friday makeup days, which sucks because I was planning on using those Friday afternoons to go to Austin and worship at the temple of Barton Springs. Hmm, wait, didn't I just say it hadn't rained? That's right. We have had to close the pool four times in two weeks because a child vomited, requiring the pool to be shocked with a high dose of chlorine. To those of you who think I should be forced to teach lessons in vomit and bleach, sorry, I guess the owners don't want to subject there clients/students to that. And, no, it wasn't even the same child. A summer flu is going around? The fourth time this happened, Ms. Anna cleaned up the vomit she found in the deep end and asked the class who had thrown up. The one child who had been decked from free swim raised his hand. They told him that he couldn't have thrown up in the pool because he wasn't in the pool. Besides learning to call all adults by Ms. and their first name, its hard to say what Montessori school is doing for these children.

So back to the weather already. Last week, the rain finally came. Even my parents, who had been saying that it had been raining for two years solid and we didn't need anymore rain, were welcoming. We had two huge thunderstorms that were pretty awesome. Swim lessons got cancelled and someone gave me a ride home so I didn't have to ride in the rain. When we got to my house she decided that she didn't want to drive home in the thunderstorm so she came in for an hour. We dried off and had a nice little talk. So instead of working all afternoon I made a new friend. How I love Texas weather!

I heart my night guard

I suffer from almost daily severe migraines. It has been speculated by those who share a bed with me that all the things I do with my mouth in the night may contribute to these headaches.

During my year-long yoga teachers' training, many ideas were presented, some crazier than others. But one was that unless you are eating your top teeth should not touch your bottom teeth. This was really helpful for me because I thought if my jaw wasn't clenched I wasn't grinding my teeth, but really even when I thought I was relaxed I was putting pressure on my scull. Learning to not relax during the day definitely improved my head and my mood, but I continued to make weird noises at night.

Mouth guards are like today's fashion. You can get a $1,000 night guard made for your head from a dentist, a couture night guard if you will, a $20 mold yourself guard from Wal Mart, or a $5 hockey players mouth gaud (the H&M of mouth guards). First, I bought the Wal Mart mold your own, and that was worthless; I didn't keep it in my mouth; it didn't fit well; I stopped using it.

My dentist explained that mouth guards not specially made for your mouth actually encourage grinding as you try to hold them in at night. Couture guards snap on and are designed to trigger a mechanism in your jaw that when you bit down on the back it feels bad and you open your mouth. I don't really know how that works. Then he explained all the benefits of not grinding away your teeth in the night.

First, I was in sticker shock. But seriously, I'm on my last set of natural teeth, how much are worth to me? So I got a night guard for the bargain basement price of about $500. Getting it fitted required a session of grinding down on guard through carbon paper, waiting for the marks to be sanded off, and then continuing the grinding. That caused a headache, which I guess is also an investment.

I was pretty excited about my first night with the new guard. It felt really tight, and then I woke up the next morning to find it across the room. Since the guard will only work if it is in my mouth, I'm pretty motivated to keep in there. I've discovered that taking half a muscle relaxer equals not throwing the mouth guard across the room in the night. Also, four drinks the night before also solves this problem. Upon purchase, I thought a clear guard would get kind of funky looking, but it also makes it rather difficult to see on the carpet. I would rather not be a drug addict, but I don't enjoy crawling around on the floor every morning looking for this thing.

With use, the guard is getting less tight, as promised, and I becoming accustomed to wearing it. A few nights ago I went to bed unmedicated and woke up in the night trying to take it out so that I could continue chewing. Man, when you are asleep, chewing feels so good. I don't know what it is, but chewing and grinding my teeth just lights up the pleasure spots in my brain. But, I'm a disciplined girl so I stopped chewing and kept the guard in. This morning bite guard was still in my mouth after a night of drug free, uninterrupted sleep. That was awesome!

But the biteguard has more gifts than just protecting my molars and eliminating pain across the sinuses. Last weekend, a group of friends visited Austin and slept at Peggy's all slumber party style. As I was settling in for the night and pulling out my ever so cool night guard, Kelly tells me that she grinds her teeth in the night. My first thought is that she is making fun of me. But then she sees my mouth guard. It turns out we have the same one. It was just like the middle school experience of having the same retainer. I was deprived of this experience by naturally having acceptable teeth. Oh, biteguard, you have given me so much more than I had ever dreamed!

I am enraged

When Michelle Obama "fist bumped" her husband before his acceptance speech for the Democratic Nominee for President of the United States I thought that was the cutest thing I had ever seen in politics. It was demonstrative of her support and publicly showed more intimacy than we are used to seeing in candidates. The Daily News wrote "the fist bump of hope shows them 'silly in love.'"

Since then, Fox News has called that a "terrorist fist jab," which is just plain stupid, but they also showed a banner calling Michelle "Obama's baby mama." I am outraged. I just watched as MSNBC read aloud the definition of "baby mama" from urbandictionary.com and then discussed the meaning.

1.	baby mama
	The mother of your child(ren), whom you did not marry and with whom you are not currently involved.

The implication of the remark is that regardless of any personal or professional achievements, Michelle Obama is still black; regardless of her successful marriage she is no different than the millions of unwed black mothers. To use what in this context is a racial slur on such an admirable, successful woman just outrages in me to an extent I can't even communicate. And to watch the hosts of news programs try to explore what the phrase means and discuss the political consequences without outright calling it racist makes me sad for the American viewing public who apparently haven't come as far as they pretend.

My biggest tv crush since Jordan Catalano

Because I have a lot of time on my hands to enjoy myself and my parents netflix account I put Freaks and Geeks in the Queue. It made its way to the top of the list and by the time it was mailed I forgot why it was even on the list. All I remembered was not really enjoying it when some cable channel did a marathon like five years ago.

Well, the reason it was on the list is because it is the first work referenced in bios of Judd Apatow. He produced it and it stars core group of actors from his movies. Since I keep reading about it I figured I'd give it another chance. What a good move!

While Apatow movies are discussed ad nauseum as stories of men who need women to help them grow up, stop smoking pot all day, get real jobs and ditch their loser friends, Freaks and Geeks is about being in high school where sitting around making gross jokes and smoking pot is socially acceptable. And instead of just being a plot device, the girl on the show is actually the main character, whoa. Lindsey is a fully developed character grappling with the high school choices that seem so important at the time and it makes me wonder why the women in Apatow movies are so lame.

But what I am really watching it for is Nick Andopolis (also known as Jason Segel), who is absolutely adorable, like a big giant puppy dog. I haven't had a crush like this on a tv high schooler since My So-called Life's Jordan Catalano (Veronica Mars' Logan Echols doesn't count, that was something other than a crush. As Peggy once said, "I don't think I will every be in love with a fictional character the way I am in love with Logan"). While Jordan Catalano was beautiful and mysterious, his appeal really lay in the anticipation and the unknown, as Angela said, "how can I be this upset about a guy I never really had?" Nick Andopolis, on the other hand, is just completely a good guy that you would like to be around because he is so nice and happy. If a puppy could verbalize how happy he was and how much you made him happy then he would be Nick. Not only is Nick completely in bliss by his drumset and by Lindsey, he gives advice about how you, too, can be that blissed out. You need to find your drumset, the thing that makes you totally at peace. Yeah, high school, and life, become way easier if you are always looking forward to that thing you really love. Seriously, look how cute he was!

Nothing says, "I don't have shit to do" than spending time with a bunch of boys playing video games. For some reason boys love video games (?). Watching 43 minutes of Freaks and Geeks is like a whole day of video game banter compressed into a single episode. I just highly recommend it for anyone who has an hour to spare and needs a little easy smile.

This blogger also loves Jason Segel and has a beautiful page detailing her love for him over his career. It is undeniable that he has stayed pretty adorable over the years. I do love How I Met Your Mother (a great show with a terrible premise) and Forgetting Sarah Marshal (I'm so glad that my favorite actresses are getting work after their shows are cancelled.) You need to check out this page just for the youtube clips. (It's easier for you to just click than for me to upload video, seriously.) My love for Jason Segel has moved backward chronologically, as I have just now found his early work, but I am totally glad I did.

More thoughts on SatC

Lately, opinions of Sex and the City have been coming up more than usual. And by opinions, I mean value judgments on the characters' life choices.

All this talk reminds me of one of Frank's friends in LA. He was sleeping with a woman who had all the shows on DVD and liked to watch them. At one point, he was living with her, and so he would watch tv with her. He said that he was really getting into the show.

"You know, we watch the show and they have all that sex, and then we have sex. So it really gets me in the mood. The ladies: they like Mr. Big, but we can like the show for all the sex."

It's good to know that some men have an open mind about what might just be the biggest chick show and movie ever.

The best review of SatC, yet

My Great Aunt MaryAnn is my father's favorite Aunt, and a window in her 70s. She saw the Sex and the City movie yesterday with my dad's cousin's wife and her two daughters, who are both a bit younger than Peggy and me

MaryAnn's review of the movie was, "I don't know very much, but I do know the difference between soft core and hard core pornography, and that movie had some hard core pornography in it."

She also reported that my cousins cried during the movie and she thought that that was pretty stupid. MaryAnn thought that there were some sad parts, but nothing worth crying over.

So my assignment for the week is to go and see the movie and learn what hard core pornography is really all about.

Welcome, Summer, Ouch!

I have a great, new product that I want to tell all of you about. It is this Bull Frog Sport Spray Quik Gel, and it is just fantastic. You just spray it on and don't touch your skin for like 30 seconds. It is already a bit sticky when it hits your skin, so you couldn't rub it in even if you wanted to.

I demonstrated this technique to Peggy and Lauren who both said that they thought it would result in a blochy burn. But thankfully they were wrong. No burn at all. And others, who used inferior products, did get burned. So it wasn't just a good day for a tan.

I did, however, get a sunburn this week in Galveston after leaving my great new product in Austin with Peggy, who asked, "Do you really want me to mail this to you?" Well, fine, I don't. But I also didn't want to get a small triangle burned into my back in the very center where I just barely didn't reach with my "special for my face" sunscreen. But what are you gonna do? It's Houston in the summer.

What I'm going to do now is go and buy some more Bull Frog and then get some Burt's Bees Chemical Free Sunblock. I just read that chemical sunscreens have to be reapplied every hour, but that they might not even protect you for that long. Zinc, however hard it is to rub in, will protect all day. Zinc forms a physical barrier. That just sounds better to me.

I do worry that in 20 years they will discover that they chemicals in sunscreen are really bad for us. I also think that a complete block will do a better job of stopping the invisible skin damage that will lead to signs of aging later. Do I have any support for this? No, but has that ever stopped me in the past.

So, swimming lessons start this Monday. I will report back on the Burt's next week. You, on the other hand, should start preparing yourself for summer, and for avoiding an uncomfortable and unsightly burn. Really people, no one looks good in red this summer.