Tired Pools

Today I went on a field trip with my sister's fourth grade class. We took buses to the Fitzgerald Tide Pools north of Half Moon Bay. When she asked me to chaperon, I was leery. The worst headache I ever had was on a school bus with my daughter's second grade class on the way to the California Academy of Sciences in San Francisco. But this would not be a school bus...oh no we would ride to the tide pools on a chartered bus with a bathroom and TVs!!!

Somebody gave the school a grant or something and it was awesome. If I never had to ride on a school bus (you know they transport you to Hell on school buses) again, I'd rent myself out as a field trip chaperon. No kidding, the kids were smart, polite, and adorable. Plus, they treated me like a queen (a really old queen - they were worried I was going to eat dirt walking on the seaweed, so they took my hand, steadied me and made sure I was safe...) My sister is a fantastic teacher - she had them so well prepared they were telling the docent things she didn't know!

One of the kids in my group is a high functioning autistic and he's very particular about his shoes. He was content to sit on the edge of the tide pools and dig in the sand. Then one of my girls decided he was missing all the fun so she went and got him and convinced him to come and see the sea urchins they'd found. He went along and, of all the kids, stepped right into a tide pool and soaked his shoes. He informed our whole group that this was the worst field trip he'd ever been on an we needed to leave right NOW!

Fortunately, it was time to go back to the bus, or as I call it Heaven on Wheels. My little autistic friend made it back intact, then shed his shoes. The docents loved our classes - really! They were very lovable. In fact, if I was 45 years younger - they'd all be my new best friends. We headed back over the Dumbarton Bridge and got back only a little late.

It was the most fun I've had in months and it was with a bunch of nine-year-olds. Which tells you a thing or two about my social life. These are some seriously sweet children, though, and it was fun hanging out with the sister-unit. When I got home, I did a self check on my grief process...hmmm...still pissed? Yup, still pissed - well, I may be moving slowly through this phase but at least they can't take away my new best friends. Can they? Now its time for wine and sleep - lots of both. All in all - a great day...

DMV Photos

Just finished watching the first game of the World Series. I know it doesn't count because the Giants aren't in it but it was a pretty good game. The Phillies won, so that was awesome. I think everybody expected the Yankees to win, including the umpires so several questionable calls went against New York. There's been a lot of bad umpiring this year, but you don't expect it in the World Series. That's like having a burned out battery on the space shuttle...

I also have a question that's been dogging me since the beginning of the season. At every ballpark, there is a big screen that projects pictures of each player during his at bat. These pictures are blown up about the size of a king-size bed sheet so everybody in the stadium can see what the players look like. Now, these are athletic young men, handsome even. Why do they have the DMV photograph them?

They can take a nice looking young man with big, brown eyes and a wide smile and turn him into something that makes you hear banjo music. Why do they do that? Major League Baseball has lots of money, they could get a decent photographer. Jeez - the Yankees are rolling in cash -they could hire Annie Leibovitz!

In the 1970's MLB decided to try to make the game more attractive to women so they put the players in really tight pants. I know that's when I became interested in the game. Now, I'm not suggesting boudoir shots of the players, but couldn't they use photos that make the players look at least like they have an IQ larger than the number on their back? At the very least - make them look happy to be there...!

Lying, Cheating, etc.

I am a liar and a cheater. Well, technically, I didn't lie, but I cheated my butt off. In fact, if you go back to the site of my transgression, you might find my butt there, on the floor, all by itself since I'm sure nobody else has cheated there and now it has no friends. Here's what I did: The hub and I went to Kaiser the other day to get our flu shots. He'd gotten his seasonal shot when I was there getting Lefty worked on. He has asthma, though, so he was in the risk group for H1N1 and he needed that. I needed both.

There was a bit of a line and when we got to the front we told the screener lady what we needed. The hub-unit was okayed for the H1N1 but she nicely told me that I didn't fit the criteria for the shot and I should just get the seasonal. I was a little disappointed which is odd because I'm terrified of needles. I guess I just don't like rejection. I also know that our family tends to get everything that comes down the pike to the nth degree and I so didn't want to get sick and almost die again...

Anyway, I sat in the seasonal shot chair. The nurse rubbed alcohol on my right bicep. Then there was that awkward moment of waiting for her to jab me. I'm always tempted to bolt at this time but the whole line was watching for lack of other entertainment, and I didn't want to embarrass myself. The jab came and it was so gentle and painless, I swear I heard a unicorn sigh. Maybe it was me - I do have a bump on my nose.

After I got my shot and finished embracing my shooter and swinging her around in circles, I went over to the H1N1 station where the hub was rolling up his sleeve. He got his shot which seemed to hurt a little. When he got up, the nurse looked expectantly at me and after a nanosecond of hesitation, I plopped into the chair and exposed my left bicep. The nurse swiped it with alcohol and stuck the needle in my arm. It did sting a little. I mean I shouldn't complain since I bogied the shot illegally. Still...

When I got home and regaled my daughter with my trickery - she said "Gee, Mom, now somebody won't be able to get a shot because you did." She knows right where all my buttons are and loves to mash my guilt one...It worked. I've been feeling like a big poopyhead ever since, imagining some asthmatic child, pregnant woman or geezer gasping for breath and feverishly gulping down water to prevent dehydration. "If only they hadn't run out of vaccine" their caregiver would weep. Oh, I feel like a pig - a swine...a swine flu swine. Ughhh! Plus they came up a shot short so next year the easy, laid back process will involve guard towers and paperwork.

Then today, I heard that the supply of vaccine is beginning to catch up to the demand, Yay! Apparently, the virus they used to produce the vaccine grew slower than expected, so the vaccine company got delayed, but its catching up. Whew! Now my pregnant geezer child can get his, her, their shot! I just hope when they go there they don't trip over my butt.

Let 'em Be Kids!

I have a bone to pick with some of my fellow women. Especially those who have daughters. Now none of us mothers of daughters, well, not many of us anyway, look at our little baby girls on our laps in the hospital or their crib at home and smilingly say "Gosh I hope she grows up to be a skank!" If you don't want your kid displaying skank-like behavior, having sex when they're still wearing training bras, and getting pregnant before they're out of high school, stop modeling that behavior! Geez - some people just don't get it...

Now last summer we were all shown (by a master) what happens when we just tell kids "Don't do it - ' 'cuz you'll make baby Jesus cry". Yeah, that abstinence thing didn't work for me and its still not working all these years later. But neither is the subliminal advertising that goes on all over the place. Especially Subway. The hub and I stopped in for lunch today and during the course of our 6 inch turkey & ham two women walked in with their girls and we were left shaking our heads.

Mom number one had uncombed hair and Spongebob Squarepants jammy pants on. No, she didn't look skanky exactly, but she looked slovenly and there was her kid drinking it all in. How hard is it to drag a comb through the locks and toss on a pair of jeans?Can't fit your jeans? I had a giant lard-butt for many years and I discovered the joy of elastic - waist pants. Comfy as jammies. Feel like jammies. Are NOT jammies. And maybe it was her aunt, not her mom, but aunties are role models, too.

Mom number two was wearing a pair of sweatpants. Marginally better than jammy pants. But these had the word "Juicy" plastered across the butt. That butt was certainly juicy. It was HUGE! , still its tacky to advertise on your ass. I've seen those kind of sweats with all kinds of words on them "pink, cute, beautiful, perky, and rock-hard." Ew. I don't care and I bet an eight year old (they can read, you know) is mortified when mommy describes the goods right there on her tushy for everyone to see. But the message is there.

In years of working with kids, I noticed that it seemed like families in which Mom wears skanky clothes - not just pants but slutty tops as well, there is a lot of discussion about boyfriends and what boys like. Conversely, boys are getting the same messages, but in a "you want this in a girl" kind of way. The result? Pregnant teenagers. And if you have a teenager who gets pregnant and you're a complete idiot, you will parade said fertile teen on the national stage and after they break up her baby daddy will pose for Playgirl magazine.


I will have to look at the pictures because my curiosity will overcome my taste and good sense plus they will probably be posted on my scandal rags online. Then I will have more things in my head that won't leave. And moms with juicy butts will probably tell their daughters that this is a "hot guy - he'd like girls in mini skirts". Message sent and recieved.

Gymnastics

I went to the gym today and communed with my fellow gymasauruses. I'd call us gym rats, but most of us are too large and waaaay too stiff in the joints to be compared to anything as nimble as a rodent. I didn't have to chase any oldsters off any machines this time but, I gotta say, some of these people totally bring it in the fitness department. There was a guy, covered in tattoos, who was old enough to be my...well, babysitter, and he was lifting about a million pounds with each arm.

He was also doing what every guy does on that machine, watching his arm muscles bulge in the mirror as he lifted. A little old lady, perhaps ten years older than I am...rode happily on a recumbent stationary bike the whole time I was there. I know she was happy because she smiled like Mona Lisa the whole time she was riding. Now, maybe she was happy, maybe it was a drug induced smile. Or maybe she was the model for DaVinci when he painted the Mona Lisa. In which case she's a whole lot older than I thought and I want to get to know her pharmacist...

The Mahogany God was there. I haven't seen him for several months because I forgot what day it was when I saw him before. Now I know - Friday morning. Let the stalking begin! Really, though, he was one of the few people there under 60. Plus he looks like he was carved out of... mahogany. By a great artist - like Michelangelo! This whole Renaissance artist connection to my gym is starting to get kind of interesting.

I mean, I can't prove anything, but I may have stumbled upon some kind of space-time continuum. When I got home and went to take a shower. I got undressed, squinted my eyes and looked in the mirror. I always squint first - its like putting Vaseline on a camera lens. Some long hair and a sea shell and Yes! Botticelli's Venus! OK, I was squinting so much my eyes were closed and it was all my imagination.

That said, I have to allow that looking for evidence of a hole in Time and a connection to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles will make it a lot easier to get up on Monday and go to the gym.

Fat Camp

The hub and I just got back from Fat Camp. Its really called Medical Weight Management Class but we like to get down to the nitty gritty so we call it Fat Camp. Now, since we started last March, he has lost 65 pounds an I have lost 55. That's 120 pounds! We've lost an eighth grader! Or a Saint Bernard. Anyway, now that we've lost the flab, the problem is keeping it at bay. See, its not really lost so much as its hiding.

Yes, its hiding there on my hips. Vestigial shelves that were on their way to being wide enough to balance a cup of coffee on. Its hiding on my hubby's belly waiting to obscure his view of his feet. Its there on my thighs, ready to chafe at a moment's notice.

We started this weight management plan on a liquid diet for four months. We dropped the lard like it was hot, but now we're trying to assimilate regular food into our lives. The flab loves it! It wants more and more and more....My flab loves carbs. It entices me by dangling bread, crackers and pasta in front of my brain. It wants to get big again and we are trying with all our might to keep it small(er).

That flab is very sneaky stuff - today it teased me with an oatmeal cookie. With raisins. Dipped in chocolate. Under ice cream, nuts and whipped cream. See, I think the flab really didn't want to go away -I got rid of it. It feels good, but sometimes the flab is stronger than I am. Even though I've been working out and I know the flab never lifted a fat cell.

The battle is joined. My problem is that Flab's ammo is stuff I encounter in everyday life. My ammo is lack of Flab's ammo. Its a real connundrum. A riddle wrapped in an enigma sprinkled with bacon bits, dipped in ranch...Oh crap!

Phillies Beat the Dodgers!

I know, baseball season is officially over since my mighty Gigantes are done for the season. Timmy's back in Seattle and the Panda is home in Venezuela. I don't know where anybody else went - they didn't say. Probably some sports bar somewhere, nursing a beer and rooting against the Dodgers. Its what any sensible person would do.

The thing is that there is this technicality called the post season and the Phillies just beat the Dodgers in it. Yay. It was a good game and there were some players worth watching, not just for their athletic abilities. Now, I adore my little Giants because they are cute and I mean that in a totally mommy way. A couple of these Phillies, though, are cute in a majorly cougar way.

It was a fun game to watch. Jayson Werth is a complete biscuit until he opens his mouth which he did in a post-game interview. Now if he had sounded even remotely intelligent, I might have suggested a trip to the World Series. Fortunately for our finances, although he looks like a Mercedes, he sounds like a Yugo, and that was a bit of a disappointment. Still, major eye candy...

There's also one of my favorite lounge lizard names on the Phillies. Shane Victorino. Not his first name, Shane which is relatively normal, but Victorino. If you turn it into two names you get "Now playing on the main stage - put your hands together for Vic Torino!" He would then bust into a cheesy rendition of "Volare" or "That's Why the Lady is a Tramp".

Cole Hamels is another weird one. If you misspeak, it becomes Hole Camels which is pretty funny. Like the entire camel as opposed to Camel Holes which are only a small parts of the camel or large empty areas in the ground shaped like ungulates.

Anyway... now the Phillies go to the World Series. If I can't root for my Giants with Timmy and the Panda, I'll have to cheer on the Phillies with Jayson, the Lizard and a Hole. It won't be my favorite but it will have to do.