Head Rush

Doc. B. has had a "headstand practice" (salamba sirsasana) for several months now. That’s what they call it in yoga when you add a headstand to the repertoire of postures/poses that you learn how to do and then do it regularly. I’m still having a difficult time mastering my "savasana practice" (that’s what you do at the end of a yoga class – it’s sometimes referred to as "corpse" pose or "final relaxation" because you just lay there on your back in a resting state). When Doc. B. was learning how to do a headstand, she would practice it at home almost daily. It wasn’t uncommon for me to hear a thunderous THUD followed by a chandelier-shaking vibration as she tipped over, over and over again. It scared me when I heard it for the first time, and it seemed to shake up the cats too. But we’re all used to it now and I find it rather amusing on the rare occasion that it happens now - since Doc. B. doesn't fall over as much anymore.

Until this week, I would get all annoyed when the yoga instructor would make us at least try to do a headstand, even if we didn't know how to do one. It’s not like there is any reason for me to be able to do one. After all, I’ve not practiced doing a headstand AT ALL since I was ten years old. That’s when I took a series of gymnastics classes before promptly deciding basketball was the sport for me. The truth is that I just plain hate it when I can’t do something, no matter what it is.

For example, I hate it that I can’t fix the computer, which is what I was trying to do when I made my first successful attempt at a headstand. What a rush it was! What a head rush it was in this case! I was trying to get on the internet downstairs but once again, there were problems. So I went upstairs to the other computer to check the wireless router and the modem and to basically pretend that I knew what I was doing. As I was waiting the requisite five minutes for the various computer parts to reset themselves, I suddenly had the urge to try to do a headstand. I didn’t do it the way they teach it in class (the cartoon picture above), but rather I did it in a tri-pod stance (the other picture). I was so excited when my torso (read "fat butt"), legs and feet went right up into the air! I tried it again the next morning just to make sure it wasn’t a dream and yup, I was able to do it again. And then at yoga class the following night, I was actually excited when one of the students asked if we could practice inversions (upside down postures). We first tried to do handstands. While I couldn’t do one, I had much more confidence in trying. And then we did headstands. I actually did it like the cartoon picture; I received a little help from the yoga room walls and the instructor, but I did it! And I’ve been patting myself on the head and rubbing my belly at the same time ever since – since I’m just certain I can pretty much do anything now.

And speaking of head rush, what the heck was going on in Rush’s head when he bashed Michael J. Fox. I better not get started on that topic

King of Malapropisms

photo courtesy of Kimberlee Hewitt

Hitting the one year anniversary of this blog has caused me to reassess what topics I might want to write about, bitch. Something that happened at work a couple of weeks ago, when I started the draft of this blog entry, was resonating with me then, but has now faded for the most part. What the hay, I’m sharing it anyway.

Here's the pitch. We all use clichés, idioms, proverbs, phrases and over-utilized words all day long without giving them a second thought. And I don’t know about you, but I also hear malapropisms on a regular basis too (as in the sentence “I was being very ‘pacific’ when I gave him directions to the cafeteria”). I just thought it would be fun to keep track of these somehow, thus the link to the right that says “new blog idea”. I’m over it now but figured I’d leave the new blog out there in cyberspace for the moment while I wax prolific. See, that’s what I’m talking about. Who waxes anything but prolific unless it’s their new car? And why do we use that phrase so much? It’s similar to: “he’s an avid reader”. We rarely do anything avidly other than read, right?

But anyway, it all started at work recently, when a flood of idioms rolled off of my tongue in a short time span. It made me curious about the origin of these old sayings that have become so commonplace in our speech. When I googled some of the phrases, I discovered there are books published, “pacifically” for people trying to learn English, that explain the meaning of everything from “the cat’s out of the bag” to “bury the hatchet. And I love it when someone uses one I haven't heard in a while, or better yet, when this here Yankee comes across one I've never heard before - this happened all of the time when I first moved into the bible belt and below the Mason-Dixon Line. Take for example this proverb: “don’t try to teach your grandma to suck eggs”. This means that you shouldn’t try to teach anyone who knows more than you. But come on, how was I supposed to know that? Have you really ever heard that one before? Come visit for a spell and you just might.

Here’s the work incident. I got called into the director’s office and I wasn’t told why. I've been in this job for a year and a half, have never once been in the director’s office, and have certainly never been summoned there. My mind went into a rambling stream of idioms that went something like this: “I wonder why I’m being called on the carpet? Am I going to get my feet held to the fire? I guess I better get ready to face the music”. I was happy to learn that I just needed to sign some paperwork so it ended up being "no skin off my teeth".

In addition to hearing these phrases on a regular basis, I also read them in case files. You may not be aware that when psychological testing and/or mental status exams are done, proverbs are often used to determine a person’s ability to think abstractly. On one of my good days, I have difficulty explaining the meaning of some of the standard proverbs they ask the potentially disabled. In fact one of my former co-workers recently raised an excellent question: “as a disability reviewer, how many times must one see his/her own diagnoses in a psychological claim for disability before one can file his/her own claim?” Anyway, what the psychologist will usually ask is something like: “tell me what is meant by ‘what goes around comes around’ or ‘a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush’”. Could it be that first one means the Democrats will do well this November? And the second one might mean that a Barack Obama is worth more than a George Bush, a Dick Cheney and a Condoleezza Rice combined?

On that note, just remember that “one’s pen is mightier than one’s sword” but “one’s blog is not worth much except to one’s mother” ...

Stop, blook and listen

Target wasn't kidding when they created the slogan "expect more, pay less". Check out item number two on the Target receipt Doc. B. got last week. I had no idea that you could acquire a husband for the low, low price of just $3.99? Who needs "match.com" when you can simply walk into a Target store and pick up a mate. Now what was Doc. B. doing buying one? I'm not certain, but so far it does not appear that I've been replaced. And considering Saturday was our nine year anniversary, I'm happy that's not the case. Perhaps it was a gift for one of our many single friends? Truth be told, what's funny is that we were both looking at the receipt so that Doc. B. could flaunt what a great deal a lamp purchase was. We both just burst out laughing when we saw it.

In order to write a blog like mine, you have to be out in public or in the company of others in order to find material. Because of this, I found a recent Wall Street Journal article very interesting (10/5/06, "How Demon Wife Became a Media Star And Other Tales of the 'Blook' in Japan"). This piece examined how a weekly blogger's anecdotes about his "demon wife" have now become a blook (a book based on a web log/blog), a television show, a video game and soon a movie. The blog author is a Japanese businessman who writes about the awful things his wife does or makes him do. The WSJ listed some of them as follows:

* making him sleep in the living room when he caught a cold, and
* making him give blood in order to get a free parking voucher that was available only to blood donors.

He's reportedly received over $300K just by telling stories about what happens in his real life. He even spends more time with his wife and family because of it, just so he'll have things to write about. The Demon Wife, believe it or not, keeps all of the money he's made and gives him only a small amount as spending money. Afterall, she says, if it weren't for her, he'd have no front page news.

Once again, someone else's great idea that I didn't think of first - though there are certainly times when I'm sure I've been considered a demon wife...Perhaps it's Doc. B. that missed out on the opportunity...

p.s. Here is another great blog site that is quite creative, so much so that it has been listed as a "blog of note" on the blogspot home page: three beautiful things. What the creator does is a daily post with a list of three things that happened to her that day. Very sweet idea.

p.p.s. No, I'm not posting this blog entry from work - Like all good federal employees, I'm taking advantage of the Columbus Day Holiday to drink some coffee, play on the computer, celebrate that my European ancestors discovered that the world is not flat and appreciate that my Native American ancestors were already here when Columbus landed.

Treat Yourself

My life is very much about treats – treating myself for some accomplishment achieved, hurdle jumped or basically any other celebratory reason. Take for example yesterday when I treated myself to lunch and a beer at a local pub in honor of regaining DSL/internet access for the first time since returning from vacation. I had taken my second day off of work to wait on the service technician who would eventually end the negative effects a lack of internet access had been having on my blogging efforts. Not to mention my affected affect. Did those sentences contain the correct usages of "effect" and "affect"? Yet another one of those language issues I’m unsure of, bitch. Why am I swearing for the first time ever in my blog? Because one of my sisters always says that since you can’t end a sentence with a preposition, you simply add the word "bitch". Try it; it works. And it sounds better than rephrasing the sentence to make it proper, as in: "another one of those language issues of which I’m unsure". In any case, a celebration was certainly in order, bitch. Oh wait, I didn’t need to use the prepositional profanity there. Oh well, it was for affect, I mean effect. Once again, where is "Tenacious Teacher" when I need educational assistance?

Solving the computer problem was harder than you might think. Doc. B. made more telephone calls to our internet service provider than both Robert Downey, Jr. and George Michael, combined, have made attempts to stop using drugs. Or, if you’re one of my Michigan relatives, you might say that Doc. B. made more phone calls in the past 18 days than the number of times the Tigers have missed the playoffs in the past 18 years. But the Tigers have prevailed and so has Doc. B. I can’t speak for Robert Downey, Jr. or George Michael though. Also, I think Doc. B. now knows every employee by name at the customer service center in Omaha, Nebraska as well as the technical support office somewhere in India. Although at the latter location it’s easy to know everyone by name as it seems they’ve all selected "Alex" as their Americanized moniker, regardless of gender.

So once the capable, pleasant, somewhat attractive service technician left the bedroom (that’s where the computer is, you silly!), I bellied up to the bar at the Universal Joint with a quesadilla and a Sweetwater 420. At 1:30 on a Monday afternoon, bars aren’t too crowded. I had the place to myself for all of five minutes until a middle-aged woman joined me. She sat down a few barstools away from me with a copy of Alice Walker’s "Possessing the Secret of Joy" and ordered a pitcher of Sweetwater 469. The barkeep winked at me to indicate he knew what she meant and then he and I both glanced around to see if it looked like anyone would be helping her consume the brew. We saw no one, so he slid the pitcher, along with one frosty mug, onto the bar in front of her. She looked down into the glass with a frown and mumbled something about it being dirty. I saw her dilemma and suggested that if she wanted to go ahead and drink right out of the pitcher, I wouldn’t tell anyone. She laughed and said she’d do it if she didn’t think her father would frown down on that from up above. Meanwhile, I was thinking that my own father might frown at me for simply ordering an entire pitcher of beer all to myself. Well, no, he'd probably go get my mom to help me drink it (right, mom?!).

I asked her about her book and she smiled, reporting that it was the only Alice Walker book she had not yet read and that she had just started it. The bartender interrupted us to deliver the french fries she had ordered. She asked me to pass her the ketchup squirt bottle and when she went to squeeze it onto her plate, it made one of those embarrassing restroom noises. We just looked at each other and giggled like eight year old boys.

When I got up to leave, I told her "have a good week". She responded with "you’ve got a good spirit; thanks for blessing my day".

That’s what it’s all about – treating ourselves and while we’re at it, treating others – she made my day and it sounds like I made hers.