The Gym Synthesis

What I’m about to describe to you feels vaguely pretentious. But I tell you, it’s as far from it as we can get. I joined a gym in the beginning of March, a month away from my birthday when I always feel like I’m getting old and I need to do something drastic. I realize joining a gym isn’t a drastic change in a life, but getting my butt off the couch and to that gym on a regular basis is. Anyway, everything is going great I’m getting to the gym after work 3-4 times a week for the most part and I am physically feeling a lot better. But at some point I realize that I can’t just keep going in and doing the same thing over and over again because I’ll get bored and stop making all of this progress so I sign up with a personal trainer.

Already, I feel pretentious to mention that I have a personal trainer. It seems that only movie stars or people with a lot of money have a personal trainer… and there’s a good reason for that. Personal trainers can be quite expensive. Somehow I talked myself into employing the services of one because I am not a gym rat and left to my own vices likely would make much slower progress. My personal trainer, who I will call JT, is a 19 year old all-star football player type but a genuinely nice guy.

When I started up with JT he asked me what my goal was, I said I of course want to lose weight, but I want arms like Michelle Obama. He just smiled at me in a way that made me wonder if he knew who she was or even what her arms looked like. I’m sure he would have carried on his marry way if he did or not. So the basic plan for each one hour session is I come in and we work on a muscle group (arms, legs, or core) until I’m utterly exhausted and unable to further use said muscle group.

Yesterday it was arms and shoulders and as I’m struggling through a third set of incline pushups he declares “It is my goal for you to do a full push up.” I can’t help but think, “Well, good for you.” I have never in my 28 years done a full push up and never really had any goals to the contrary. And then I am suddenly aware while doing weight assisted pull ups that he is likely to reach his goal dragging me kicking and complaining the whole way. After all, isn’t that what I signed up for?

Sushi Me Sushi Sakura!

I’m going to take this opportunity to do a restaurant review. As you may have noticed, I’m not a restaurant critic but I enjoy eating well.

I’m a big fan of sushi and when the sign went up for Sushi Sakura I don’t know how many months ago now I got excited. A sushi-go-round so close to my office? I was nearly giddy. And no, I’m not over stating. MINIGirl was on vacation last week and made me wait to go try it out.

So, today was my first endeavor in to Sushi Sakura. When we first walked in the place was packed, and that says a lot at 11:30. When we sat down and I started to eye the sushi passing by on the conveyor belt I couldn’t help but want just about everything that went by, and everything I did grab was very yummy. I have to say that I’m very glad that it was, because after waiting and building the anticipation for nearly six months they could have easily disappointed me and I would have never gone back.

Creative Drive

This morning I found myself trying to suppress the urge to just call in to work and just go home to be creative. On my walk from the MAX station to my office I can pass by two different stores that sell art of local artists, and at least one artsy clothing store depending on the path I choose to walk the eight or so blocks. Having a full time job I find that I often don’t have time to do the things I really want to do: write a novel, make jewelry, sew something or dig in the dirt of my garden. With that full time job comes paid time off, luckily, but there are only so many days that I can take off to balance with the work week.

Many other creative types understand the need for creative time, the desire to have a space dedicated to the goal of making something. For me, if I go too long with out indulging my urge to create to satisfaction I end up where I am now: longing to run away somewhere so I can do just that.

You Can’t Transition-Proof Your Life

I’m beginning to learn more and more each day that life is about transitions, and how I deal with the transitions is what shapes me as a person… as a functioning adult in today’s world. I still think that it’s strange to refer to myself as an adult. I know I am of that age group and actively functioning as one, but part of me still feels fresh out of college barely prepared for the responsibility handed to me. At what point does someone transition from a “punk college kid” to a “makin’ it in the world adult”? Does the Mary Tyler Moore theme suddenly erupt as you’re walking in to your office one Monday morning? Does it become really truly adulthood when you buy your first new car? Make your first mortgage payment? When you have your first child?

Like a lot of things being an adult is a state of mind, one that needs to be transitioned in to. Here in the U.S. you can drive at 16, help decide who runs our government and be sent to war at 18, and drink legally at 21. The rates on car insurance go down at 25 and you can join AARP at 55, retire and collect social security at 65 and then what?

In the past two weeks the reality of the working during a recession hit my company, and for the first time I experienced companywide layoffs, gracefully masked as a “reorganizing”. Fortunately for me I was spared the pink slip but returned to the office missing the 15 people that had been let go. Talking to one of my coworkers who works at another office in Arizona that lost 27 people, a large majority of their office staff, he compared it to grieving the loss of someone to death. Suddenly they’re gone and the reminders of them are everywhere but you have to pick up the pieces and move on. It is a horrible thing, but you learn from it and hopefully your company is better for it, and you all transition together to making it work.

Shine On, Harvest Moon

Fall arrived on swift wings to Portland this year. One week it was sunny and in the low 80’s, and then suddenly the leaves on the trees are turning gold and red and the highs will hit the upper 60’s if we’re lucky. It all seemed very sudden, and I couldn’t help but feel a little blindsided by it having to change out my wardrobe so quickly. Personally, I like an easing in to my seasons, I think it helps me to mentally process that there’s going to be a different type of weather pattern in the near future. This year, ready or not, Fall is here.

I’m not ready, give me back my summer!

Jesus and Buddha walk into a bar...

I was thinking this morning on my walk from the MAX station to work about a conversation I had with one of my coworkers about two weeks ago. I happened to mention in passing friendly conversation that I was a Religious Studies minor in college. Typically I’m reluctant to mention this fact to people, especially coworkers, considering it is a touchy subject for many and I don’t think it is very appropriate to discuss religion at work. In fact, it just may be against the law. Actually, I don’t really remember what brought it up but what I do remember is the conversation that ensued.

A little background on me: I was raised in a Christian family, and was quite active in the church up until I went to college. My beliefs went through an adjustment period as I grew and changed and came into myself as an individual. Hubby’s family is, for the most part, Jewish with the exception of Hubby’s Mom who practices Bon. When asked, I typically respond that I am a Buddhist because the majority of what I believe is encompassed in Buddhism. I’m not going to get in to the deep recesses of why I believe what I believe, suffice to say that it is my choice and I have put A LOT of thought in to it.

Let’s get back to where this all started - that conversation. What it came down to was me trying to explain to her as how I viewed the Buddha in terms similar to Christianity. Somehow, I managed to end up comparing the Buddha to Jesus. This may seem to be a strange bridge but allow me to explain. Christians generally believe that Jesus came to earth as a means by which God could save the sinners from Hell. Similarly, Buddha found a way to escape Hell – in Buddhist terms this would be continual reincarnation and the suffering that is life – and shared. That is not where the similarities end. Both taught to love, be kind, be spiritually faithful, and one can escape from Hell. Now, to clarify, I’m not saying that the Buddha is “the savior” in the same respect that Christians consider Jesus to be their savior. Buddha (which means the enlightened one in Sanskrit) would be more of a prophet or a teacher, the one that figured out the key to enlightenment for the everyday practitioner (or Average Joe Buddhist). Buddha came in to the world as a Hindu and didn’t necessarily intend to start his own religion. Similarly, Jesus was raised as a Jew and probably had little intention of starting his own religion either – he was sent to put people on the right path.

I realize that comparing Christianity to Buddhism may seem like comparing apples to a prickly pear, but my personal understanding is that most religions when you take away the dogma all come down to two things: answering the question of powers larger than us as humans, and being a good person.

As ShoeDiva would say: “I’m just sayin’…”

Eat the View: Part 5, “Rise of the Word Garden”

Every morning I get up at 5am and go out to the back yard to water my vegetable plants. Living in the North West means that we actually have day light at that hour, it’s not much but it keeps me from stubbing my toes. My plants all loved the heat wave we had a few weeks ago making them all double in size. I had hoped that would mean tomatoes soon, but then the cool down back to normal temperatures quickly dismissed that idea.

As one might imagine, I check out my plants every morning as I’m giving them their drink of water. I have had about half a dozen or so snow peas to harvest on my snow pea plant every day and my cherry tomato plant has tiny green tomatoes on it. The problem is because our temperatures have gone back to their normal range of the 70’s it is not really warm enough for the tomatoes to finish ripening. So, I wait. Watching and hoping. I know sooner than I believe I will have more tomatoes than I know what to do with, but a part of me feels a little like Veruca Salt from Willy Wonka jumping up and down and screaming “I want it now!” I’m still learning that I can’t rush nature.

ShoeDiva came over on Sunday night to have dinner watch the season premiere of True Blood and in the down time between eating and the show starting we sat out in the garden with a bottle of “3 Buck Chuck” and began to talk. Like they say, one thing led to another, and we ended up naming all of the plants in my garden. We stayed with a theme of author names and tried to match them with the plant’s characteristics (did I mention there was a bottle of wine involved?): my two zucchini plants ended up with the names Poe and Wilde, the snow peas are Hemingway, the strawberry plants are Dr. Suess, my Shady Lady tomato plant is Plath, and the basil is Doyle. The list goes on, but I won’t venture to try to remember all of them. Being the intelligent ladies that we are, because we don’t want me to forget all of these fabulous titles we have bestowed upon these plants we wrote the names on popsicle sticks and put them in the soil next to the plant. Now I’ll never forget that my Lemon Verbena plant has been dubbed Lincoln Steffens.

What's the opposite of a "Pity Party"?

I am feeling full of deep thoughts this morning. I think it may have something to do with the big thunderstorm that rolled through yesterday evening. It seems like it hit all of a sudden, and after a torrential downpour, thunder & lightning and perhaps even a little hail, by the time I had finished cooking dinner it was all done.

Hubby's dad (MusicMan) has been doing something daily that I find intriguing. I guess he's been feeling down about the housing market and the balance between work and life so his business coach advised him to get up a little earlier every day and do something he loved before he started going through his routine of getting ready for the day. So MusicMan has started emailing every morning his thoughts on life. He started out with a group of ten or so people and Hubby tells me that MusicMan is now up to 50 on his list. Hubby forwarded the emails to me (MusicMan is titling them "Passion Party", the opposite of "Pity Party") and I read through the first 9 of his emails this morning. WOW. They are really simple observations on life, but you can tell that he's pouring his soul in to them.

I hadn't really thought about it much, but I think that I have my own little "Passion Party" every morning when I water my garden. It was still raining this morning so I didn't water my plants when I let Cleo out... & I kind of was disappointed about that. Like I said, I hadn't realized that watering my plants is kind of like a morning meditation for me - doing something I enjoy before I get my day started. And I do it every morning.

I hope you're doing something for yourself lately.

A "Material Girl" I'm Not

Day one of the month of June and I already feel summer in the air. I feel like we hardly got spring first but that’s just fine with me. I love spring and summer in Portland they’re nothing like what I grew up with in Sacramento – it just feels like there’s so much more life in the heat of summer here.

With the heat of summer comes a change in wardrobe. Everyone sheds their big wool coats, knitted scarves, and rain hats for sun glasses, strappy sandals and short sleeve shirts. Now, let me get one thing out there, I am not nor have ever been what you might call a girly girl. I like to think that I’m in touch with my femininity but not obsessed with it. To be completely honest, I haven’t really been too concerned with fashion until the last year or two and even then I’m all for function over fashion. I won’t pin-point all of my evolutions here for you, though if asked I could likely tell you.

I don’t know if my evolution in to femininity is a result of me growing up or a result of the world in which I live and work. Given, I put more energy in to how I look in my office setting than I do at home or with friends. I find that if I have extra money I would rather spend it on a dinner out than a new pair of shoes. That doesn’t mean that I don’t look at a nice pair of heels and think “Damn, my legs would look nice in those.” I may think that, but I likely won’t be able to bring myself to spend over $50 on an item of clothing. Heck, I spent $20 on the cocktail dress for my company holiday party last year, and then another $10 on jewelry and I’ve worn the outfit three times. Though I can’t tell if that is just being frugal or me thinking that fashion isn’t worth all the money people put in to it.

I can’t put my finger on what makes me feel how I do. I just know that I am not “a material girl” or “high maintenance,” I do know that I like to feel like I look good but don’t feel like I have to be fully “done up” to go grocery shopping. I’m sure I could go on for pages about the evils of the fashion industry, but I won’t waste anyone’s time with that.

In the end I think what this all means is that I’m growing more comfortable skin. I think that’s all really anyone can ask for.

Five Interesting Firsts

I originally wrote this article for my company newsletter, and thought I would post it for others to read as well.

February is Black History Month and typically a time when we reflect upon and appreciate African-Americans that have made an impact on American history. We all know the names Booker T. Washington, Rosa Parks, Malcolm X, Martin Luther King Jr., and Barack Obama. Who are some of the lesser-known African-American history-makers?

First published African-American writer in America – Jupiter Hammon (1711 – 1806?) was a lifelong slave on Long Island, New York who was given a formal eduation and is considered one of the founders of African-American literature. He was deeply religious and his poem “An Evening Thought,” was published in 1760 as a broadside and noted as the first published writing by an African-American in the U.S.

First African-American Lawyer – Macon Bolling Allen (1816 – 1894) was a self-taught lawyer who was accepted to the bar in Portland, Maine is 1844. Soon after that he was admitted to the bar in Boston and became the first African American Justice of the Peace. Allen moved to South Carolina during the American Civil war where he felt his skills as an abolitionist lawyer could be of use.

First African-American Olympic Gold Medal Winner – At the 1908 Summer Olympics in London, track and field athlete John Baxter Taylor, Jr. (1882 – 1908) earned a gold medal for his part in the U.S. medley relay team. Taylor ran the third leg of the medley race, running 400 meters in 49.8 seconds.

First African-American Woman Elected to Congress – Shirley Chisholm (1924 – 2005) was elected to New York’s Twelfth District congressional seat in the House of Representatives in 1968. In 1972 she became the first major party African-American candidate, and the first woman to run for president.

First African-American to reach the peak of Mount Everest – In 2006 Sophia Danenberg (1972 - ) was the first African-American to reach the summit of Mount Everest, the tallest mountain in the world. She suffered many ailments during her climb and bad weather conditions held back the other members of her climbing party. She and her sherpas were the only climbers to witness the event.

John Cleese, How Do I love Thee...

I was prowling the internet, as I am want to do from time to time, and I discovered that John Cleese has his own blog (I don’t know why I am so surprised by this, all the kids are doin’ it!), and I found this lovely jewel within its webby pages penned by Mr. Cleese:

Ode to Sean Hannity

Aping urbanity,
Oozing with vanity,
Plump as a manatee,
Faking humanity,
Intellectual inanity,
Journalistic calamity,
Fox Noise insanity,
You’re a profanity,
Hannity

Oh, my heart jumps in my chest. I’m sure Hannity has had that joy of such an easily rhyme-able name for the entirety of his life, but you can’t say he didn’t bring it on himself!

I’ve been a Python fan from the moment I knew of their existence (Holy Grail is one of my favorite movies!), and enjoy John Cleese whenever he includes himself on a film (see: Rat Race), and when he would make guest appearances on TV shows that I already enjoy. I seriously need to have a look through his IMDB credits and have my very own Cleese film festival.

I must also admit that my radar had been raised for him recently as the Python boys recently started their own YouTube channel. Truly I have needed something lately to make me giggle, and that’s just the ticket.

NaNoWriMo is taking it out of me lately… even after my little venture off to the coast to write for four days. On schedule to break 40k words tonight (3 days worth of writing ahead of schedule) and if I’m really good I’ll get this thing blown out of the water before turkey day hits.

A little story

So, apparently I like to start my day by thoroughly embarrassing myself… I had just gotten my first cup of coffee for the morning and was walking back to my desk being careful not to spill the hot liquid on my hand or elsewhere, when something happened just as I got to my desk and the new VP of Marketing walks in the door … and I spill half of my mug of coffee all over the place, on my desk, on the floor, on my chair, on my pants, and – most importantly on my hand. Burning hot coffee on my hand. It takes all of my focus to not drop my mug on the floor and just put it on my desk, excuse myself and run to the bathroom to rinse my hand under cold water and get some paper towels before I help him. Yeah, I’m awesome…