Author: fifteenkey (Page 32 of 96)

Those lyrics are stuck in my head, and since they’re not the title of a song, it’s a bit more challenging to find them on the interconnected network. Find them I did though and Mad Season’s “River of Deceit” was a 1995 song that once propelled me around the one mile odd oval at Fitchburg’s Coolidge Park. Anyway…

Other than obvious health benefits like reducing chances of heart disease, stroke (the bad kind), Type 2 diabetes and cancer, there are other bennies like:

• Better nutrition for the family – I buy the food, so Megan, Kyle and Maddy are learning to love things like baked haddock, spinach salad with fresh roasted beets and goat cheese, mangoes, avocados, and sautéed beet greens. These fine foods have taken the place of corporate slop from giant agribusiness conglomerates.
• Less money for giant agribusiness conglomerates – IBID
• Less stress on fingers – It’s much easier to fasten pants when you’re not trying to hold back a glacier of fat.
• Better visibility driving – I can see much better now that I’m not sunk six inches into the front seat of my car.
• More roomy seats in coach – I appreciate that as I’ve lost weight, the airlines have increased seat size. Thanks Southwest!
• Save money on clothes – Soon I’ll be able to wear all the clothes I grew out of. Sadly, they’re from the 80’s.
• Less wear and tear on your mattress – Yep, with less crushing weight on your coils you’ll no longer feel like you’re sleeping in a foxhole. This benefit extends to anyone between you and your coils…
• Once again, women are right – The boobs are the first to go!

Tonight after work I picked Maddy up at her Grammy’s. Mommy Megan was attending a wake for yet another young victim of heroin. Like too many others, there won’t be a tomorrow for him.

My little grand-daughter was happy to see me, but sad to leave her “Ky-Ky.” She doesn’t quite get the Kyle splitting time at Grammy and Papi’s… So with it just the two of us, two words ruled: ice cream. “Wanna get an ice cream, baby?” She smiled and wiggled affirmatively in her car seat. After a while we were trading, “Who wants an ice cream?” for “Meeeeeeeee!” Patiently, Maddy waited while we hit the bank and the dry cleaners before arriving at the Cherry Hill Ice Cream Barn. Even in a kiddy cone dish, “Extreme Chocolate” kicks serious ass, blending dark chocolate ice cream with equal dark dashes of fudge and chocolate chunks… Yeah. I really wasn’t falling off the fatty wagon, but in case I needed a reminder, the one piece picnic table literally sank underneath us and tipped over on us. We, and the Extreme Chocolate were unhurt…

After a “I don’t want to get back in my car seat” dispute won by me, we headed home for jammies and a dinner consisting of fresh salad and chicken sausage with multi colored peppers and pale Vidalia. As I cooked, Maddy visited often, leaving the comfort of her soft pink and fluffy bean bag chair and “Dora” to give me hugs and kisses… and to beg like a puppy with her mouth open for salad tomatoes. When I asked if she was ready for bed, she shook her blonde curls East to West, but curled up in my arms. I tried to reason with her about how she loves her bed and her blankie and the nice music (WCRB) softly filling a little corner of her room. She hugged me tight in what I incorrectly interpreted as agreement. I put her into her white crib and said softly, “no crying now. Papa wants Maddy to be happy, not sad.” She looked at me with her big blue eyes brimming with contentment. We had a nice couple hours and Madison Olivia had another fun day of breakfast with Papi, mommy time, school with her friends, and after-school with Grammy, Papa Scott and her Ky-Ky.

After about 10 kisses and another big hug, I said “I love you. Goodnight,” and left Maddy’s room, shutting the door behind me. Immediately, the sound of crazed prehistoric raptors ripped at the door… Strange, I thought. Why does she cry? My feeling in the moment was that she just doesn’t want the days to end. It was as if she were crying out, “Nooooo, Papi! I don’t want this day to end! I don’t want any of this to end!” Me neither, baby. Me neither.

A very crappy meeting today had me stressed out and ready to eat my way calm when I walked through the door tonight. I paced while whining to Megan and swallowing a nectarine whole like a snake, pit intact. As the small lump slowly slid visibly though my throat, I refused to give in and instead threw on running stuff and headed to the new, spongy crimson track at Fitchburg State College.

About ten trodden steps into only my second quarter mile, I pulled the calf muscle in my right leg. The sad fact is my calves can’t take the pounding at my current weight. Whatever. I proceeded to walk 11 more laps at a strong pace, went home and ate a small meal. I won this battle, but there will be many more. I also cared much less about the whole work thing.

It’s not heroin, booze or crack, but food consumption can me a mother… to control, but if I’m going to have a healthy “back nine” to a century, I’ve got to. There are already benefits. A pain in my side has disappeared, clothes are getting looser, and I can almost see my… OK, I’m kidding about that. I’ve always been able to see my feet. Oh, and the nectarine… I took some bites.

Me: “…You only became what we made you.”
Kyle: “Dad, that song is sticking in my head.”
Me: “Do you know who does that song?”
Kyle: “Who?”
Me: “Yes.”
Kyle: “Yes does that song?”
Me: “No, Who does it.”
Kyle: “I don’t know. Who?”
Me: “Yes.”
Kyle: “Yes does it?”
Me: “No, Who.”
Kyle: “Dad, I’m not playing this.”

Yesterday morning I heard an NPR report on “the hookup,” a typical sexual encounter among 20-somethings today. These kids are more comfortable with banging than bonding, in fact they tend to avoid real intimacy. Sure, there’s been the “one night stand” forever, but this social swing is without negative connotations of the past. Hook up with it.

As I listened, the stereotype in me thought, “I was born in the wrong generation,” but immediately I realized and accepted that I’m the outdated spinster with hang ups about sex. My Über self jumped into the passenger side to channel Freud and we played “In Treatment” for the ride to work.

• Me: “Well, growing up, my single mom played dad. I had no sisters and when I was in grade school, neither did my close friends. I didn’t learn what girls were about.
• Dr. Freud: “Go on.”
• Me: “Then there was the time some neighborhood girl chased me during a squirt gun fight. I slipped on the plastic of a broken weapon and sliced my eyebrow wide open on the top of a chain link gate. I was a bloody mess. That was traumatic.”
• Dr. Freud: “I see.”
• Me: “Anyway, I didn’t have a real girlfriend until I was a high school sophomore, and she claimed to have done some spell to get me, so I’m not sure what effect that’s had.”
• Freud: “Tell me more.”
• Me: “She was a ‘good Catholic girl’ and we dated for the rest of high school. Mostly I remember her saying ‘I’m sorry. Don’t be mad.’ It was kinda like that ‘Paradise by the Dashboard Light’ Meatloaf song, except ‘STOP RIGHT THERE’ always had me out between third and home.”
• Freud: “Meatloaf?”
• Me: “It’s not important. The point is it got cemented into my head that sex was something forbidden and something girls didn’t want.”
• Dr. No Help: “Continue.”
• Me: “Then I got to college.”
• (At this point the doc shifted in his chair and leaned in as if to say, “finally this dolt is gonna get laid.”)
• Me: “During ‘Rush Week’ a Junior co-ed from the town next to my hometown pounced on me and for the next year or so treated me like an animal in ‘La Fiesta De Los Vaqueros.’”
• Dr. Schlomo: “I don’t speak Spanish.”
• Me: “It’s a rodeo, Doc.”
• Freud: “Ah. That was a joke.”
• Me: “So, listen, Doctor… It’s now years later and I still think of sex as the forbidden fruit. Why can’t I just discard all this baggage and… you know… Get busy.”
• My Ex-Therapist: “Oh, look at the time. We’ll have to pick this up next week.”

I’m reading about how “Big Pharma” and “Big Insurance” lobbyists are working hard to gut the “public option” in any healthcare bill, thereby preserving their gluttonous gorging of you and me via over-medicating and over-charging. What I’m not hearing is how a public health insurance option would free millions of US workers currently working in corporations largely because they need the benefits. I believe a huge wave of entrepreneurial productivity would crest in our economy if these anchors were severed, not to mention the benefit to the businesses themselves from a reduction in their healthcare costs. Isn’t the legacy of healthcare costs one of the financial big drags that helped GM spiral into bankruptcy? And speaking of bankruptcies, a recent report suggests 2/3 of all personal ones are due to healthcare costs…

Would you consider a career change if maintaining your personal or family healthcare benefits were of no concern?

There are no children or grandchildren here this morning, so I’m breaking the silence with some key-pecking of random, um, stuff.

• Why is Liz Cheney given a public broadcast forum to reiterate and spin the old man’s lies?
• After seeing Carolina beat a good Bruins team and then broomed by the storm-resistant Penguins, the Detroit Red Wings must be one great hockey team.
• An old, dear friend is in town over the weekend. Last night we shared a laugh over a description of “the old days.” “When I could, I did.”
• Longish drives alone usually involve an album selection from the iPod. As I meandered last night I wondered, “What didn’t Reprise Records hear when Wilco delivered “Yankee Hotel Foxtrot?”
• Losing a few pounds is wonderful refreshment to ones state of mind.
• I know it’s an overused baseball cliché, but when he’s on, John Lester’s curveball is filthy.
• Why have so many of my peers never ventured from the “classic rock” period of the 60’s and 70’s?
• I don’t know if there’s a more beautiful sound than that of a young mother playing with their toddler during bath time. (The child’s, not the mother’s…)
• Maybe it’s on kid radio, but Madison Olivia has joined the Copetas boys in the public performance of “Tinkle tinkle, little stah…”
• I worked all through yesterday’s beautiful day and was really into it. Maybe the work is about more than health benefits for my family…
• “Boots” is a scary, bug-eyed monkey on “Dora the Explorer,” and I think he’s s drug dealer, but Maddy loves him.
• Finally, I had a memorable dream this week that begs for interpretation. Working in my yard below a retaining wall, I looked up and saw a woman I knew a few years ago. She looked older, but was essentially the same blonde, graceful figure I remember, and she was looking unemotionally down at me from behind a trim black business suit. Before I could say anything, I had to spit out a mouthful of safety glass, the little bits that are created when a car window shatters. However, my projectile was smoothed, seemingly polished by years in an unyielding surf.

Anyone?

Yeah, this title has probably been used before, but the subject of this post is different. Last week I joined a “Biggest Loser” contest at work. It started with a woman who’ll be married in September and she wants to put a svelte self into her party dress. She already looks great, but you know about soon to be brides… Another co-worker is inspired by the fact she’ll meet her husband’s former “love of his life” at a future event. As for me anteing up $100… well, if I ever meet Mel Gibson on a traffic stop and he’s shitfaced, I don’t want him calling me “Sugar-tits.”

Besides the huge vanity thing, it’s really a health issue. I loathe being overweight and at 50, I’d like to avoid potential health problems relative youth has helped me dodge so far, and I want to be around to take care of my son as long as possible. Now the cure is straightforward, but not simple. I don’t eat junk, I hardly drink, and since menopause, the chocolate cravings have subsided… My problem is seconds, thirds, and in the case of pizza, keep counting until all the pie’s gone. Two words: Portion control.

So far I’ve passed two major hurdles. On Saturday, Kyle, Maddy and Papi had lunch at Sorrento’s, the best pizza place in Central Mass. We ordered a large cheese and I limited myself to 2 slices and a large water. Sure, the 2 remaining slices were whispering and blowing sweet nothings into my nose, but I resisted. Tonight it was Chinese takeout. I made myself a single plate and ate it (not the plate). No seconds. No thirds. No noshing chicken fingers unconsciously before I put one in my plate.

One week and a few pounds down. A lifetime to go.

Weigh-in Update – 5 pounds down in 6 days. Not bad.

During broken pieces of this weekend, Kyle and I have caught splices of “Band of Brothers,” and last night, a Memorial Day concert from our nation’s capital. I verbally expressed astonishment at the bravery of those in Easy Company, but the portrayal of wars effect prompted Kyle to request a channel change. The concert included a tribute to Staff Sergeant José Peque?o and his family. The young man had about a third of his head blown off in Iraq and didn’t appear to have any awareness of why he was there. The story was more about the sacrifices his sister and mother have made in caring for him since his injury. He is one of 34,000 American soldiers wounded in Iraq. Nearly 5,000 have died, along with an estimated 100,000 Iraqi civilians.

In related news, and in the midst of the worst economic downturn in nearly a century, Raytheon’s profit rose 15% in their latest quarter. The company derives 93% of its revenues from building weapons, and is just one of many US companies that profit from conflicts all over the world.

I will never begin to understand the bravery of soldiers like those in Easy Company and Staff Sergeant Peque?o, nor will I accept the greedy motivations that in 2009, continue to make war a growth industry by placing them and thousands of other human beings in harms way.

I love the solitude of being in a flying tube with 200 of my closest friends crying, squirming and of course hacking Swine flu spray into the encapsulated atmosphere. A very cool thing on JetBlue are the little TV’s at every seat. I’ve got the LeoPod on shuffle, but that’s not stopping me from occasionally looking up for a little Maddy moment of “Dora” and “Boots” on Nick.

Real time shuffle report!

• Waiting for the Slow Songs – Sloan
• The Drinking Side – Lonesome Brothers
• Houses of the Holy – Zep
• When Doves Cry – Prince
• Daniel – EJ
• The Rover – Zep
• You Wreck Me – Tom Petty
• Mr. Undertaker – Angry Johnny & the Killbillies
• Wave that Flag – Bottle Rockets
• Elliott Smith – The Biggest Lie
• Adagio Divertimento, K.297 – Capella Istropolitana – Mozart Effect for Children
• Fuck & Fight – Varnaline
• Backstreets – Bruce
• Walken – Wilco
• Dear John – Ryan Adams and the Cardinals
• Alive – Pearl Jam

This flight will hopefully deposit me in Long Beach, Cal-ee-foh-nee-ah for the annual APA Conference. Actually, it would be cool if we ended up in Seattle where my pal Dave is for business and the APA isn’t. Not that there’s anything wrong with the APA… We see a ton of our customers at the show and it’s always cool to get their unvarnished views. Given the seismic activity Sunday and yesterday, I am a bit concerned about experiencing my first earthquake. There was actually a “big one” centered in Long Beach back in 1933, and while I dig a good sequel, I’d rather miss this one. I’ve not yet done the “what bands are in town” research, so maybe I’ll get lucky. I did rent a car for Friday and will head up to Wilshire Boulevard for a visit to the LA County Museum of Art once the conference ends at noon. That’ll help me kill the 8:55 before my red-eye leaves for home.