Model Material?

Not exactly. But I read today that the average (if they can be called that) high-fashion designer prefers a model whose upper thighs, together, measure about 35'' around.

So, because I'm a masochist, I measured mine - 35.25''

I'm not about to change careers, but still, that made me very happy.

Potentially Disastrous Results

With the brawny member of the family in northern Michigan fishing and consistently warmer weather approaching, I was left to install my window AC unit all by myself... and let me tell you, it was not fun. I live on the sixth floor, and all I could imagine was the unit just falling, gracefully and silently to it's death on the driveway below. That would so suck.

And there were a few close calls, when the thing tipped dangerously out of the window, me still shaky from yoga with one arm trying to steady it and the other fumbling for the window itself... but after only about 15 minutes I am able to say that it is done, and done well.

I Haven't Even Taken This Year's Trip Yet..

... but I think I know where I'm going next year.

Sweden! Stockholm, then north, for the Midnight Sun.

Evolutionary Perversion?

I'm been spending some of the afternoon watching the Discovery Channel's Planet Earth series. It occurs to me that, in nature, it's often the case that the male species goes to great lengths to impress a would-be mate. It's the male peacock that displays his plume, the male bird-of-paradise who dances. In primate species, males will battle each other, the victor being he who wins mating privileges with the eligible female.

It makes sense for the female to be the chooser and for the male to meet certain standards of strength, for the longevity of the species.

In our society, though, we've perverted this: sure, some guys will maybe find themselves in a drunken bar brawl over a chick, but mostly it's the women who wear makeup and get cosmetic surgery, who style their hair and put lots of thought (and cash) into their wardrobes, mostly for the sake of being attractive to men.

Just an observation.

Sign for Faith

I had a nice Greek dinner with a friend last night, and then we realized that it would be silly to run off to yoga classes and different studios, so she just came to mine!

Apparently at her studio before class everyone is talking and laughing. My studio is all business. Purist. Serious! Mostly. And my friend J, who is a sign language interpreter, felt a little intimidated and insisted on continuing our conversation in sign language for fear of making bad first impression.

People at my studio aren't pedantic about silence. You can talk or whatever while the class before is finishing up. It's just that people don't.

It felt so good to sign... I am a little out of practice... and my yoga teacher, who is about to leave to practice in India for three months, learned that there is a sign (two, actually), for her name. Faith.

Dish

Okay, Matt, since you asked, I will provide the background to John's and my comments.

Back when I first moved to DC in 2003, a lot of us were still playing music at Nanny's in Cleveland Park. The session was on Monday nights, and it was where I met most, if not all, of my current Irish music community. The session had a few structural problems, most notably the lack of a dedicated (and paid) session 'leader' who would be responsible for enforcing basic session etiquette and generally ensuring good quality of music.

So, without the presence of a leader, the session slowly became taken over by wankers. From what I've heard, the wanker take-over began just before I started showing up, so I basically missed the Nanny's heyday, but by the time I had been in town a few months, I noticed a marked degeneration in music quality.

Unfortunately, the wanker take-over can be traced to one or two wankers. I say unfortunately because it really sucks that a few people can be responsible for the dismantling of such a cool scene.

So, most of us have abandoned the Nanny's session altogether in favor of more organized pub sessions. I'll be honest, at times the atmosphere at these sessions can be a bit staid, but that is more than made up for by the quality of music, which is consistently high.

At the McGinty's session the other week, I ended up sitting in between one of the Nanny's wankers and one other musician who used to play at Nanny's and who I don't know well but don't consider to be a wanker. Others might, but I have no problem with this guy.

So the wanker starts schmoozing in the way that makes me want to take a shower with a sandblaster to get the dirty off. He says hi to the other guy, and I become an unfortunate witness to the following exchange:

Wanker: Hi Other Guy, how have you been?
Other Guy: You're the reason I stopped going to Nanny's.
Wanker: Sorry?
Other Guy (louder): You're the reason I stopped going to Nanny's.
Wanker: Oh, is this something else I'm getting blamed for that I have nothing to do with? That seems to happen a lot.
Other Guy: If you really want to know why you get the reactions from people that you do, you should start looking in here (taps head) instead of out there (gestures to the world).
Wanker: That's really interesting. I'd love to buy you a drink sometime and talk about this.
Other Guy: No thanks, I really have nothing else to say.

Awkward for me to be sitting in the middle of this show-down! So anyway, Matt, there you have it. It's probably not as interesting as you thought it would be, just given that part of the drama is in knowing the history and personalities of the people involved. But it definitely made for some excitement.

Aside from all that, let me reassure you, pretty good tunes were had that night.

Not That I Want To

... But I guess I'll join the discussion.

Anyone with half a brain can agree to the logic that fewer guns = fewer gun crimes. But since I'm in the half of my field that practices (as opposed to theorizes), I'd like to know how to translate all this discussion into real reform.

Real reform that takes into account all kinds of things... like... how to handle the supply and demand and black market when restrictions are put into place, how to handle the increase in incarceration (and, inevitably, reentry) that comes with stricter laws, what happens to already disadvantaged communities when more people are going to jail, and what some of the social and biological causes that may predispose a person to want to use a gun to hurt another person? There must be way spot and prevent this before it even remotely gets to the point where the person obtains the firearm.

Talk is great, but as a person who deals with gun crimes every day in a city that has a ban on guns, I'd like to call on anyone who has a good idea about what to do to please, let us hear it. Because what we have isn't working, on either end of the spectrum.

Flaked Out

I had a cruel day at work today and was looking forward to a nice hard yoga class. I fell asleep after work and woke up at 5:30pm, not enough time to shake off torpor, get dressed, and hoof it to Tenleytown, but in my confused sleepy flurry, I tried. It never occurred to me to just chill out and attend the 7:15 class.

I scarfed down some whole wheat corn chips, got dressed, threw my hair into a ponytail, and ran out the door.

I took the elevator down to the basement, stepped off, and checked my watch. 5:44pm. I would be late.

I took the elevator back up to my floor and went back to my apartment. Stood in the middle of the room, felt how much I really wanted to sweat and breathe, and went back to the elevator. Stood in front of it, berating myself simultaneously for either choice - showing up late or skipping class altogether.

Realized that I was creating a far too anxiety-inducing situation for myself, returned to my apartment, took a nice hot shower, and now my only choice for the evening is whether to have tea or wine and what my next book will be.

Potentially Awkward Situation

This afternoon I was scheduled for my monthly massage. I had a few errands to run first and ended up in Tenleytown a bit early, so I decided to go to Starbucks and get a cup of tea to warm up this cold, windy, rainy day. As I was walking past a store of some kind, a few doors down from the coffee shop, a man sitting inside caught my eye. I thought for a moment that I recognized him, so when he smiled, I smiled back. Then I realized that I had just caught the eye and returned the smile of a strange man. Great.

Standing in line at Starbucks a few seconds later, I saw the guy come in, glance around, and take a seat by the window. Eeep!! I really didn't have anywhere else to go and of course he sat right by the door so I would have to walk past him to leave, so I took a seat at a small table with a free-standing sign placed strategically between he and I. In this picture, you can see the sign taking up almost the whole frame, and then the tiny shadow of his head on the wall.

I don't think the guy saw me the entire time I was sitting there and I was able to make an inconspicuous exit. Whew!

Catpix: YogaKitten

Mental Block

Lately I have been having a really hard time posting anything of substance.

Since I've been out of school I've fallen out of the habit of expressing myself through writing; it is a habit and something one must practice. I feel expressive in my thoughts and in speaking, but not in writing. So it's frustrating to try to sit and transcribe complex thoughts; I'm never happy with the outcome, no matter how often I return to my writing and revise.

Maybe my life is just routine right now. I take great satisfaction in working hard, which entails matters I cannot write about here. My personal life follows a fairly predictable pattern.

So... I don't know. How to open up?

Weekend Take Two!

Okay, I was really looking forward to last weekend but now I am really looking forward to this weekend. Being bed-ridden is not the same as getting rest, and I am still sort of worn out from fighting my awful cold.

But now I feel much better and have a three-day weekend to look forward to! The DC Government gave us Monday off for Emancipation Day. Whatever, I'll take it.

So now I am settled down to my new favorite show, the Take Home Chef (yes I am in love with Curtis) and I have a half bottle of a lovely Cotes du Rhone and a long empty weekend of shopping and yoga and naps.

Let it begin!

On The Mend

Two days of bed-rest and I am officially on the upswing. First hint: since about 1pm I've been eating non-stop. I discovered soy yogurt!

I will be back at work tomorrow and hope to be at a yoga class on Thursday. Friday for sure. It will be nice to feel back to normal for the upcoming three-day weekend.

I Need A New Body

One that's infection- and congestion-free. This cold hit me hard and fast. I felt fine all day Friday, felt fine at my yoga class, felt fine during the ten-minute walk home... and then... almost immediately upon returning home I was totally floored. I didn't even have a chance to fight it off.

I can't remember the last time I took two days in a row off of work. Well, technically I went in for an hour this morning, but I'm counting that as a day off.

Ungh... just kill me...

Weekend

Good God do I need this weekend. I'm burned out. It's going to be cold all weekend and I look forward to hours of coccooning - books, tea, blankets, thick socks, a heating pad, kittens. No people. No work. A bit of yoga. Maybe a brief foray into Adams Morgan on Saturday night to see a few friends. But in general, as little as possible. I may even shut off my computer and cell phone.

Yeah, I really need this weekend.