Here we go again, get up, go to the bathroom and step on the scale. It is Monday morning and the "diet" begins. Plus it is the beginning of a new quarter of the year and I had a made an (ahem) resolution to lose a lot in the first quarter.
While I am not sure what got me this way, there is one thing I know for sure.
I know that it is not about the food. It is definitely about behavior modification. I started watching this guy on the Learning Channel who says he can make you lose weight. I also bought a book. by Dr. Shapiro which is kind of a picture book of choices. It is very eye opening!!!
So, I guess I will try try again. What precipitated this? I was serving smoothies at a school breakfast and all the moms were beautiful and also half my size. Some were clearly too small, vying for their 14 year old daughter's jeans could be an option. The rest were just very tiny. I wonder if they eat at all!
I also want to be healthy. I want to be able to beat my friend T up the hill when we cycle in a couple of months. We usually bike about 30 miles but she always beats me up the hills! Darn it.
Really I am exasperated with myself. It is time to wake up when you have to spend 15 minutes figuring out what you will fit into rather than what you want to wear.
When it comes right down to it--I guess you just have to flip the switch. That's it. The light is on.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Friday, March 28, 2008
Capitalism or Bust?
I strongly recommend that you read "The 10 Days That Changed Capitalism" from yesterday's Wall Street Journal. It is an excellent article which, in my humble opinion, raises some very important issues. When should the government get involved in our market system? Is this different than when FDR took extreme measures and how? Does this create a system which guarantees the ability of investment banks to continue the way they have without real consequences? What is the responsibility of government in a democratic republic.
What happens when the Fed lends our investment banks over 31 BILLION per day in three days without a true idea of the collateral they hold? Where is Congress and our representative government in this? This is probably one of the most astounding examples of government activism in history.
Clearly, there needs to be some regulation. And man, will there be. I am almost thinking my ban on more lawyers in our house. But how and when do we intervene in our "free market" system? And who will pay for it later?
What happens when the Fed lends our investment banks over 31 BILLION per day in three days without a true idea of the collateral they hold? Where is Congress and our representative government in this? This is probably one of the most astounding examples of government activism in history.
Clearly, there needs to be some regulation. And man, will there be. I am almost thinking my ban on more lawyers in our house. But how and when do we intervene in our "free market" system? And who will pay for it later?
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Unsung Heroes
Here is a "shout out" or rather a "sing out" to all the moms in Roslyn NY and all the other moms who are a little bit under appreciated. You are the unsung heroes of our time. But I was thinking, what exactly does that mean?
In my town, it means that a lot of women are at home with their children. They gave up the choice to be a doctor, lawyer or chief (of something), usually after they went through everything to attain that dizzying height. They used the choice that they finally had, (with thanks to the "women's lib" movement--though I am not sure "liberation" is really all that accurate)and made a decision to give their families the best that they had, themselves. For that I applaud you! Most of those women are like my sisters. They are homemakers. With out them it just simply would not be a home. They teach their children lessons, academic--to be sure, but also emotional. And isn't that some of the most important support that you can give?
As a mom who works outside the home, I suppose I made another choice. I thought that my choice was governed by economics and the material things I wanted to provide to my family and also I thought I should be share that responsibility with my partner and spouse along with the opportunity for him to be around more to parent. (I also work with him--the subject for another humorous future post). I always fantasized that I could be like my sisters. That I would be cooking with my boys, or doing science projects. In truth, I am not the most patient person. I guess that I wouldn't have been cut out to be home all the time. I work from home two days a week so I could be there for the bus, to meet the other moms and know about the "dirt" on the school etc and to do some of the IQ and EQ teaching and moral prodding that our kids need. One foot in and one partially out.
In the end, I am not sure any of us know if our choices were the right ones. All we can know is if we tried to do our own best. I used to feel so guilty, that I wasn't home. Then I realized that some of the moms weren't really home at all. They had a black belt in shopping, tennis, lunching or that ever present job of chairing (PTA Charity) and were barely there at all. In the end, for their kids, that may have been best also.
So what does that leave me with as my kids will soon be off to their own lives, to their own homes (hopefully someday). A little less guilt. A little more of a sense of humor. A little yelling and a lot of love. And of course, a little singing.
After all, you can't be an "unsung hero" if at least you sing for yourself every once in a while. Who knows, maybe some other familiar voices will join the chorus.
In my town, it means that a lot of women are at home with their children. They gave up the choice to be a doctor, lawyer or chief (of something), usually after they went through everything to attain that dizzying height. They used the choice that they finally had, (with thanks to the "women's lib" movement--though I am not sure "liberation" is really all that accurate)and made a decision to give their families the best that they had, themselves. For that I applaud you! Most of those women are like my sisters. They are homemakers. With out them it just simply would not be a home. They teach their children lessons, academic--to be sure, but also emotional. And isn't that some of the most important support that you can give?
As a mom who works outside the home, I suppose I made another choice. I thought that my choice was governed by economics and the material things I wanted to provide to my family and also I thought I should be share that responsibility with my partner and spouse along with the opportunity for him to be around more to parent. (I also work with him--the subject for another humorous future post). I always fantasized that I could be like my sisters. That I would be cooking with my boys, or doing science projects. In truth, I am not the most patient person. I guess that I wouldn't have been cut out to be home all the time. I work from home two days a week so I could be there for the bus, to meet the other moms and know about the "dirt" on the school etc and to do some of the IQ and EQ teaching and moral prodding that our kids need. One foot in and one partially out.
In the end, I am not sure any of us know if our choices were the right ones. All we can know is if we tried to do our own best. I used to feel so guilty, that I wasn't home. Then I realized that some of the moms weren't really home at all. They had a black belt in shopping, tennis, lunching or that ever present job of chairing (PTA Charity) and were barely there at all. In the end, for their kids, that may have been best also.
So what does that leave me with as my kids will soon be off to their own lives, to their own homes (hopefully someday). A little less guilt. A little more of a sense of humor. A little yelling and a lot of love. And of course, a little singing.
After all, you can't be an "unsung hero" if at least you sing for yourself every once in a while. Who knows, maybe some other familiar voices will join the chorus.
Monday, March 24, 2008
College Road Trip
During my college days the words began with a whisper but grew to the swelled rumblings that echoed through a dorm or frat house. "Road trip!!!" we cried. What usually ensued was a trip to Canada for Brador beer (much higher in alcohol content--or so we thought) or maybe to a big city like Boston to visit our wayward friends at places like Wellesley or our friend who played Magenta in "Rocky Horror Picture Show". (A story for another time...)
Nowadays the term "road trip" has come to have a new meaning. Instead it means the beginning of the journey with my son to figure out where he would be most happy studying, learning and generally growing up. We have now visited about 5 colleges. One of them was at a State University where we visited the son of a dear friend. We took him out to dinner and had him show us his school. He was very proud. It was thrilling to see his newfound adulthood and how proud he was of the fraternity he pledged and the fact that he will undoubtedly be the next social chair.
It was exactly as I remembered it. He was nervous to lead us into the frat house but we assured him we had seen plenty in our days at school. As the heavy door creaked open, he led us from the bright sunlight into the dank and dirty boys club and the unmistakable smell of days old beer spill hit me. It was such an unmistakable odor. It smelled of "day after".
He led us to their "party room" and apologized for the state of the place. He will improve it and add a lot to the health and beauty of the place, to be sure. It certainly was not the worst I had seen and I wanted my son to see it, and to see it without the romance of loud music, dark lighting and beautiful sorority girls to cover up what it was. He will have to make his own choices soon. But I was thinking, maybe if he sees it in the light of day, in the light of the day after, he will think too.
Nowadays the term "road trip" has come to have a new meaning. Instead it means the beginning of the journey with my son to figure out where he would be most happy studying, learning and generally growing up. We have now visited about 5 colleges. One of them was at a State University where we visited the son of a dear friend. We took him out to dinner and had him show us his school. He was very proud. It was thrilling to see his newfound adulthood and how proud he was of the fraternity he pledged and the fact that he will undoubtedly be the next social chair.
It was exactly as I remembered it. He was nervous to lead us into the frat house but we assured him we had seen plenty in our days at school. As the heavy door creaked open, he led us from the bright sunlight into the dank and dirty boys club and the unmistakable smell of days old beer spill hit me. It was such an unmistakable odor. It smelled of "day after".
He led us to their "party room" and apologized for the state of the place. He will improve it and add a lot to the health and beauty of the place, to be sure. It certainly was not the worst I had seen and I wanted my son to see it, and to see it without the romance of loud music, dark lighting and beautiful sorority girls to cover up what it was. He will have to make his own choices soon. But I was thinking, maybe if he sees it in the light of day, in the light of the day after, he will think too.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Memory Keeper
Years ago, gosh, decades ago, in High School, I had two best friends. One of them was Protestant and beautiful thin and blonde. Her hair had to be swept to the side or she would literally sit on it. Her jeans were always beautifully patched and sewn in the style of the time. She listened to classical music and played the flute. From the green coolness of her bedroom she looked out of her too-wise -for-her-years-eyes and could easily hurl the best, most accurate, sarcastic appraisals of our high school times and I loved her for it. She lived in one of the most beautiful homes I have ever seen, with mahogany trim. It had the perfect entry for a Christmas tree, though they always had it in the living room. We shared Christmas holidays, lots of "firsts" and all the horrors of high school.
The other was raven haired and attractive in a way none of us really understood. She had a certain charisma, a way of influencing people. She was Catholic. She was always tempting fate. She started out in little ways. She grew pot plants on her window sill. When her mother realized what they were, she vacuumed up the leaves. Neither of them said a word about it. Later in her life she was always part of a strong group, and never was just a member of a cult-like group, but was the leader of it. We shared Easter. We shared boyfriends. We shared our other best friend. She convinced us to join the chess club. The boys there would love us, she said.
And I guess I seem myself as the "stocky" brunette. But that can't be true. I was a figure skater and skated hours every day. I wasn't much over 110 pounds at 5'4". I am Jewish and shared my holidays with both of my friends. They came to Seder, to celebrate Hanukkah. Through the years many memories fade. I haven't thought about many of them. All three of us liked to write. We wrote long letters to one another. I have always had a fantasy that I would write a book about those times. I lost track of those two women. I moved to Georgia, one of us was in Africa as a missionary (I told you I have a great book here) and the other lived in NYC. I guess I always wondered if they kept my letters too. I wondered if we shared the same memories.
Years later, my path has crossed with one of them. She has inspired me to write again. Who would have thought, over 30 years ago, I would be here at this keyboard. In front of a machine that only a few (the Mathletes and Chess boys we knew) might have predicted.
She is my memory keeper. And I am hers. I didn't even remember the time we made Hamantaschen for Purim. But she did. And she even posted my old recipe, in my own hand, to her blog..
And so, maybe I will get out the letters that have moved with me from state to state, home to home. Maybe I will reread the journals. Maybe....I will write again. With thanks to my memory keeper.
The other was raven haired and attractive in a way none of us really understood. She had a certain charisma, a way of influencing people. She was Catholic. She was always tempting fate. She started out in little ways. She grew pot plants on her window sill. When her mother realized what they were, she vacuumed up the leaves. Neither of them said a word about it. Later in her life she was always part of a strong group, and never was just a member of a cult-like group, but was the leader of it. We shared Easter. We shared boyfriends. We shared our other best friend. She convinced us to join the chess club. The boys there would love us, she said.
And I guess I seem myself as the "stocky" brunette. But that can't be true. I was a figure skater and skated hours every day. I wasn't much over 110 pounds at 5'4". I am Jewish and shared my holidays with both of my friends. They came to Seder, to celebrate Hanukkah. Through the years many memories fade. I haven't thought about many of them. All three of us liked to write. We wrote long letters to one another. I have always had a fantasy that I would write a book about those times. I lost track of those two women. I moved to Georgia, one of us was in Africa as a missionary (I told you I have a great book here) and the other lived in NYC. I guess I always wondered if they kept my letters too. I wondered if we shared the same memories.
Years later, my path has crossed with one of them. She has inspired me to write again. Who would have thought, over 30 years ago, I would be here at this keyboard. In front of a machine that only a few (the Mathletes and Chess boys we knew) might have predicted.
She is my memory keeper. And I am hers. I didn't even remember the time we made Hamantaschen for Purim. But she did. And she even posted my old recipe, in my own hand, to her blog..
And so, maybe I will get out the letters that have moved with me from state to state, home to home. Maybe I will reread the journals. Maybe....I will write again. With thanks to my memory keeper.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Office of Intergovernmental Affairs
I haven't written in my blog since January and I do not want to let the New Year go by without a true attempt to do this. Of course if I could write like maggpiemusing, (she dreamily thinks....). Anyhow, hard reality has hit NYC. We have gotten a million calls from people at Bear Stearns looking for work. I kept thinking, omg, I hope their windows don't open. The beautiful building that rose above us and showed such promise has been raffled off. If I had the hang of this blog stuff I would link here to www.dealbreaker.com where Bess Levin has written some raunchy but hillarious posts about Bear, Spitzer and all of the other NYC nonsense.
So what on earth is the title of this blog and why? Well in NYC, you just can not make this stuff up!!! We now have a new Governor. He is African American, and blind, and apparently a very randy guy. In fact, the comments from everyone in our office have to do with the fact that the woman of the affair looks much like his wife. One can only imagine the jokes on Wall Street. And here we are on another week with another phillandering politician, who may or may not have used state funds. Another week with a wife, dutifully by his side, at a press conference.
The punchline is hillarious though. At least the woman in question is not employed by an interstate prostitution ring. You guessed it---she works in the Office of Intergovernmental Affairs!!!!
So what on earth is the title of this blog and why? Well in NYC, you just can not make this stuff up!!! We now have a new Governor. He is African American, and blind, and apparently a very randy guy. In fact, the comments from everyone in our office have to do with the fact that the woman of the affair looks much like his wife. One can only imagine the jokes on Wall Street. And here we are on another week with another phillandering politician, who may or may not have used state funds. Another week with a wife, dutifully by his side, at a press conference.
The punchline is hillarious though. At least the woman in question is not employed by an interstate prostitution ring. You guessed it---she works in the Office of Intergovernmental Affairs!!!!
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