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Michelle Obama = Coolest Woman in America

The Carpet and the Drapes

I get my weekly horoscope emailed to me on Sundays. I don't actually take the words as truth, but it's kinda fun to see if life's events in any way follow the predictions from my friends at Astrocenter. 

Okay, life never falls in line with the predictions, and I don't know how to unsubscribe. 

The writing staff at the email horoscope service (which is probably comprised of different folks than the actual star-reading department, yes?) is getting a little sloppy lately - in a manner of which their English teachers would certainly disapprove. See if you can find the problem with this week's horoscope:

Live it Up! Your horoscope - Week of April 5, 2010
You approach life intensely, Scorpio. On Monday Mercury in your sector of open enemies squares aggressive Mars and you'll come up against someone who isn't on your side, to say the least. Before you aim your stinger, consider if your energy would be better spent creating a new lifestyle for yourself. You may become a mentor to a young person on Saturday. Remember that you have a lot to give to others, and they can benefit from your experience.

Now I ask you, which part of the actual horoscope has anything to do with the concept of living it up, as stated in the title? Hmm? 

Shouldn't the title give a hint as to the main idea of the horoscope that is to follow?

 Sure, mentoring a young person and giving to others are nice and all, but "live it up" is chock full of connotations - jetting off to Rio, dancing 'til dawn, splurging for the deluxe car wash, etc. Where's that stuff in the text of my horoscope?! 

It ain't there, friends.
It just ain't there.

And I didn't even know I had a sector of open enemies.
Now I've got that to worry about.

Boys Rule

I've been thinking about boys a lot lately.
Not on purpose or anything.
I'll just be going along, minding my own, doin' what needs be done, and  - whap!  - thoughts of boys pop into my head.

Let me give you some examples ...

On the evening of February 13th, I was seated at our kitchen table next to my daughter. We were working on the task of assembling her Valentines to bring to pre-school. She'd picked out some at Target - pictures of cartoon monkeys and little monkey tattoos for each kid in her class. As she folded the cards and I stuffed the envelopes, I got a better look at the tattoos.

Damn.

All the monkeys had flowers in their hair - tucked behind one ear a la Dorothy Lamour in The Road to Bali. There were no monkeys wearing trucker hats or motorcycle helmets. Whatever would the boys think?! Would the boys be upset at these girlie monkey tattoos? Would they reject them and throw them on the floor in a rage?

Then I thought What's the big deal? I'm sure my daughter will get a boatload of Valentines with dump trucks and robots on them, and she'll like them. So, why do I get all worked up about whether or not the boys will be okay with something with flowers on it?

Because girls will accept things that are more stereotypically male, while boys turn up their noses at girl stuff.

Girls will read a book with a male protagonist, while boys bristle at reading one with a female lead character. I know

I'm speaking in generalizations here, but there's research - and more than a decade's worth of my own observations as a middle school teacher - to back these generalizations up.

I do not like this.
It feels wrong.
It seems to say It's still is a man's world, and women (including me) are trained to adjust and adapt to it. 

And then last weekend, I was sorting through some of my daughter's toys - the ones she's outgrown and wants to "give to a baby". I was looking at some stacking rings, really nice ones made of wood, imported from France, painted with gorgeous bright colors and patterns.

Our friends' little boy is developmentally at the right stage to play with these, but then I noticed that two of the rings were pink. Hot pink, actually. And I found myself thinking Uh, oh! This might be too feminine for him. 

Am I completely nuts?
The boy isn't even a year old yet!
He doesn't know what pink is!
Hell, he doesn't know what a boy is!
And here I am, worried that his parents are going to accuse me emasculating their son by giving him something a little too "pretty" to play with.

I was starting to think it was just me.
Surely, other women don't think like this.

Then at work today I was showing two (female) colleagues this awesome website called the Girl Effect. The three of us watched the video and were immediately moved and impressed and could absolutely see how it fit in with our curriculum and talked about showing it in class. ..

And then each one of us.
Independently.
Came up with the same worry:
How will the boys react?


Wow.

So, I know it's not just me who keeps thinking about boys, which is comforting.
But why are we always so worried about keeping them happy?

Probably because we're a bunch of girls.

My Reasons Are Threefold

So, why did I order the DVD's of Freaks and Geeks, you ask?

1.  It's a critically-acclaimed series I've never seen.

2.  Netflix highly recommended it for me. (We've only been an item for about two weeks now, but I swear Netflix can see into my very soul.)

3.  When I'm going to watch it, I have an excuse to proclaim to all within ear-shot that I'm, "... gonna get my geek on."

A Tip Relating to Shoes and Relativity

When shoe shopping online, if you look at the $800 Ferragamo loafers first and then move to the $450 Taryn Rose suede flats, by the time you get to the Repetto ballet slippers for $245, they seem like a bit of a bargain, really.

B-A-N-A-N-A-S

I got a thing in the mail a few weeks ago advertising this...

Baby Jingles

And I haven't been sleeping very well since.

Coincidence?

Nine is a Lot of Inches

I started dabbling in this self-improvement thing a few months ago.

The Campaign for Visible Vegetables has integrated itself quite nicely into our lives, the amount of miles the hubby and I have been hiking continues to grow, and fast food darkens our doorstep with far less frequency. 

Here's the problem, though: I see no change in my body.

Okay, there are SOME changes, like I can hike farther now than I could a few months back - and even jogged a few steps the other day. But I mean the measurable changes just aren't happening. My weight has fluctuated up and down in the same three-pound range since late-March. My clothes still fit about the same. My dreams of putting in the effort and seeing dramatic and rewarding results have been dashed. 

Fed up with the scale, I recently saw a couple mentions of waist size as an indication of fatitude vs. slimliness and realized that I had NO idea what my waist measurement is. Eager for a new means of telling myself that I'm totally not fat, I grabbed the tape measure. 

Bad choice. 

According to Real Age, my waist is about three and a half inches bigger than the big end of "ideal". 

That's not THAT much, right?

But is that the waist measurement statistic I grab on to? 

Of course not.

I decide instead to fixate on the fact that my waist is NINE INCHES bigger than the girl's on Make Me a Supermodel. Now, I appreciate that I am twenty years older than this girl and that I am never going to be a supermodel, but, still, the horror of NINE INCHES burrows into my brain and stays there. 

Nine inches is a lot of inches, yes? 

Now I'm like a dog with a bone with this whole waist measurement thing ...

On Real Age they have a waist loss tracker, so I get in there and enter my data. 

It asks for my goal. 

Um, my goal's not to feel like I tub-o-lard. 

How does that translate into numbers? 

I thought about it for a couple seconds and decided to shoot for the big end of "ideal" since I do have what is politely called a large frame (meaning I have shoulders like a linebacker).

Then it asks for the date by which I will reach this ideal (though still on the big side) state.

Great. 

Again, I'm in unfamiliar territory. 

The site tells me that half an inch every two weeks is reasonable. (Can't they just say an inch per month? Or 1.3 cm per fortnight?) I decide that three inches by summer's end should be do-able, so that's what I type in. 

So, now I have a new number to strive for. 

Another benchmark to reach. 

Great.

My real goal for myself, though, is to self-improve in the way that makes me no longer feel compelled to compare myself to supermodel wannabes. 

To reach that elusive goal of not caring about what the scale and the tape measure say.

To just appreciate the strength of my legs. 

My lungs. 

My heart. 

Now THAT would be some improvement. 

But, until then ...

Maybe It's Just Me

Watch it with the sound off and tell me you don't feel more than a tad creeped out.

A Healthier Alternative to Gwyneth

I'm gonna go make my Team Scarlett t-shirt now.

There Are No Small Roles ...

Contents of Jean-Claude Van Damme's Resume

(circa 1985)

Recent Roles:

Guy Dancing in Background in Breakin' 

Gay Karate Man in Monaco Fever