Putting off exercise

I need to do it, but I got really bad cramps this morning so I skipped the gym (there was an exercise class I'd been thinking of partaking in). Now they're going away, so I have no excuse anymore. It's so nice out today I can't put this off any longer. I'm taking out either the bike or my roller blades. I've spent enough time on line this afternoon, already.

the cat days of summer

It was sweltering outside today. I snapped a pic of this cat sleeping on a bench outside a store.

Terrific thundershowers later as P and I were driving home from Astoria. I was pretty scared. Visibility was very poor.

I am having anxiety attacks lately, feeling that the crowds of the city are really getting to me. I feel like Times Square train station is too much, all the jostling and weaving and dodging to avoid people.
There are so many trains pulling in there, so many
different entry ways, that the crowds are unpredictible. They come from all angles. I'm short so I wonder sometimes if I'm harder to see...
Anyway, I'm just going to try to do some deep breathing on the train tomorrow, relax. Go with the flow. You can't see it TOO well, but here's a double rainbow we saw on the road the other day.

it doesn't matter what I say

Why am I blogging? Does anyone read this? Do I WANT an audience? I must, because I must think I have something to say that is different or unique than what other people are saying. But all I keep thinking is I don't need better writing, I need a "gimmick." I do have ideas rolling through my head, which I haven't determined will work or not. Mostly I'm thinking of a photo blog once a week, around a theme.

Right now it feels like all I'm doing is getting a few random thoughts out of my head and onto the computer. Why would that be interesting to anyone? My life can be sort of boring. I work, go to AA meetings, go to an occasional kinky event, and on weekends we go to Barnes and Noble for coffee.

I need coffee, will expand on this later.

Is this wrong?

She was either deaf, or mentally challenged, or SOMETHING -- so it probably isn't RIGHT to get mad at her, but this girl on the bus tonight got on with me at 6th and 42nd, sat three rows behind me, and proceeded to talk LOUDLY and STUPIDLY the entire trip to Queens.

I'm talking about a trip of nearly an hour. I'd forgotten to recharge my i-Pod, so I was stuck with no escape route. After about 40 minutes I had to put a finger over one ear to at least cut some of the babble. She was sitting with a friend and I don't know how HE was dealing with her talking non-stop. Hence my theory that there was something she couldn't "help" about the situation.

The tone of the talking was different than the usual teenage, "I'm going to shout at my friends here now, and they are going to shout back, because I know it pisses you old people off and you are afraid do anything about it."

Okay, so I'm not allowed to get MAD because, on what little evidence I had to go by, she may not have been able to help it... but I can still complain about the massive headache she gave me.

Fighting the spread

I am in week two of an exercise program to get rid of some extra pounds that have accumulated recently. I am getting up earlier every morning and doing 40 pushups and 100 crunches, at minimum, plus other weight training. Later I'll try to go to the gym or walk at lunchtime. Or both.

I know it's a vanity thing; P says I look just fine, but I really have to fight the spread now that I'm in my forties. My weight was never easy to keep down; I weigh about thirty pounds less then I did in high school, but it's tough to keep it from creeping up. They say your hormones change in your forties, making it harder to burn calories -- whereas before I could lose weight on a 2,000 calorie diet, now I have to cut back to 1,500.

But I hate counting calories. So I'm just focusing on a few key things -- more fiber, less fat, less junk food.

We have been invited to a lot of parties recently. Christenings, birthdays, pool parties, etc., where there's been lots and lots of food. I've also stayed at my mom's house overnight a lot more than usual this spring/summer. She always has tons of junk food and just regular food with potential to become junk in her cabinets and fridge. For instance: peanut butter. R and I no longer buy peanut butter because it is a horrible temptation for us (mostly him, but I agree we don't need it in the house). Mom usually has two or three jars of peanut butter in her pantry.

I say to P before going to one of these parties, "What is my strategy for tonight, as far as resisting the food?" He sometimes says, "Don't be obsessed" -- meaning, it's OK to have some dessert or snacks in moderation. But other times he just says, "Don't eat anything but healthy stuff," or, "Don't stand near the food table."

But I don't know what my strategy is right now, other than to become obsessed with the goal of losing weight -- to want that more than I want a cookie or some Sun Chips (one of my favorites). I find it hard to lose weight without being obsessed, without "fighting" my cravings -- I have a lot of cravings.

Good news is, over last couple of days, my attitude has changed about it. When I started the pushup/situp regimen, I was not hopeful at all that I could continue and that it would do any good. Sometimes you get to a certain weight and you think that's it, you're too old to change things.

But last couple of days I've felt so much better about it. I now believe I can lose weight and WILL lose weight. But I think the fact that I'm not extremely heavy to begin with helps. I felt pretty good about my body on Saturday at the party. I was simply wearing my favorite jeans, which show off my butt in a good way, and a sleeveless green henley top that showed off my arms. I'd only been doing the pushups for a week and I thought I was noticing a difference already.

I will not weigh myself just yet. I might want to give it a month.

New York still surprises me

I got off the 1 train at 96th, and I was walking up Broadway when I see a middle-aged man in a suit, walking the opposite way, shaving his face with a battery-operated razor. First thought was -- how rude; glad I wasn't holding any exposed food when he passed by, stubble flying. But then again, considering all the men I've seen spit on the street right in front of me, shaving is a minor thing. And when I got to work our receptionist said she's seen guys shaving and walking before. So I guess I have a lot to learn.

Next weird thing -- I get into the elevator, it's crowded and someone has his/her Ipod cranked up pretty loud. I hear it coming through and -- what IS that? JOHN DENVER? Someone's blasting JOHN DENVER on their i-Pod? That may beat shaving on the street. Or, it's close.

I'm supposed to be working. These things will have to be pondered in depth later.

Cats are VERY upset

I've been putting it off and putting it off, but both cats got baths tonight, and they are now pretty pissed. Fat Orange Boy is hiding in the closet, and Booger Face is skulking around the living room, stopping every few minutes to lick his matted damp fur. Poor little guys! But they were stinky.

I don't know if I can take the trauma, though. I've been telling my husband for weeks (months) that I would give them baths, but I kept putting it off knowing how it would PROBABLY go. And that was exactly how it went... They don't like me very much right now. I don't think the neighbors like me very much either, with all the yowling that was coming out of the bathroom.

Happy Birthday Cranky Pants

This is whatP. got me for my birthday! Yay! Now I don't have to listen to loud talkers on the bus and subway! And I can play it as loud as I like to drown out everyone else. Woo hoo! But there's only one and a half hours to go, and I still haven't gotten my birthday spanking.

la la la la la. Happy Birthday!

Must I be so cranky?

Conversation with Outback waiter -- I want the steak pink in the middle, so I'll have it medium rare.
Waiter: If you order it medium rare, it will come out bloody.
(Me, to myself: what, does a RARE steak come out still screaming, then?)
Me, out loud: well, maybe I should order it medium, then. I don't want it bloody. But I do want it pink.
Waiter: OK, medium, then?
Me: Yes.

The steak arrives and is light brown, not pink. I decide not to complain, as that will only delay our meal, make the waiter feel bad and possibly retaliate, and -- it's fine. It tastes okay. This is ONLY Outback; not a REAL steakhouse.

No wonder it's confusing. http://www.chowhound.com/topics/376441;

http://mikemadaio.com/ordering-food-medium-rare-medium-or-what

http://www.epicurious.com/cooking/how_to/video/test_medrare

Funny how the second blogger's experience was NOT what happened at the Outback where we ate tonight!

Two things I WILL compliment Outback for. I ordered green beans as a side to my steak and they were cooked PERFECTLY. Crisp, not watery, soggy and oversalted. And the apple crisp I had for dessert was delicious. Did not NEED to eat the apple crisp, had to be rolled out and squeezed into the car, but it was delicious. Thanks, P.!

In which stinky train people touch me

On the mornings when my husband P. has to start work at 8 a.m., we leave the house together at 7 and I go to Astoria with him. It takes about half an hour most mornings to get there; we park and have coffee at Starbucks. We kiss goodbye just before 8, and I walk a block and a half to the R- and V-train station on Steinway. I take the R to 42nd Street/Times Square, where I have to walk up a flight of stairs, past the morning's entertainment (Chinese cello dude this morning), push through clueless tourists, up another short couple of stairs, then down to the left where I pick up the 1 train north.

Other mornings, I leave the house just before 7, take the QM1A from our corner to 6th and 42nd in Manhattan, where I walk one block west to 7th Avenue and repeat most of the above ritual for getting to the 1 train.

I don't really mind the trains, except when other people TOUCH ME.

I don't like strangers touching me. Therefore, I try to avoid it at all costs, only accepting it where there appears to be no other alternative. For instance, this morning the R was pretty crowded and I had to stand all the way to 42nd Street. For the first two stops we all were really jammed up against each other. I had my purse plus another soft, rectangular bag over my shoulder, and had taken my jean jacket with me. I was attempting to make all of this lie as close to my body as possible so that no one else would be poked accidentally. A girl was standing right in front of me, holding the horizontal bar over the seat area. As I am 5'2," I find it difficult to hold the overhead bar when I have to stretch over the people who are sitting there. It is much less strenous to hold a vertical bar, if you can get to one. There happened to be other short women near me so we were crowded around the one reachable vertical bar. A businessman just to the right was preventing me from shifting slightly in that direction, which would have given all us (but especially me) more breathing room. He had staked out a very wide berth of space around himself, and was standing in a wide-legged stance, taking up even more room. He was tall, and would have had no problem moving down a tiny bit, giving us more room, and still been able to easily grip the overhead bar on that side of the the train.

But he did not move, and so we breathed down each other's throats. At Queen's Plaza, a major transfer point, I was able to get a tiny bit more floor space, but all the seats that were emptied were filled before I had a chance to get to them. More commuters pushed on, so I was also thwarted in my attempt to grab a door spot. If you HAVE to stand on a train the door spot is the best location. You don't have to hold onto poles when you get this, because you can brace your back up against the door and won't fall over when the train stops. Yes, you still may have people near you, but they will only be on one side of you. It's less stressful.

Good thing is that it's not a long ride, and the 1 train to 116th is usually not too crowded. This morning I was able to get a seat.

On the way home, however, I was sitting on the end seat before the door (another prime piece of real estate) and a lady gets on with some bags. Now, there are two seats next to me and there aren't that many free seats at this point, so she takes the one next to me. Fine. But she's RIGHT UP against me. She's got room on her other side to shift over an inch or two, but she won't move. Obviously she has distorted values. Me, I don't care all that much about the little bumpy ridge separating the seats. In terms of relative comfort, I'd prefer the ridge on one cheek to touching someone else's skin. Apparently, she didn't care if she touched me, she didn't want to sit on the little bump. At one point out of the corner of my eye I saw her nodding off, and I braced myself for her completely falling asleep and letting her head fall over onto my shoulder. Oh, yeah, it's happened to me before on the train! Old Chinese guy zonked out next to me...

So what's the big deal about being touched? I'm not really afraid of germs or anything, nor am I worried (at least not above a normal keeping-my-purse-zipped worry) about being robbed. I just get very uncomfortable some days. I also don't like people standing too close to me on the platform when there's lots of room. It's all relative. Yes, when there are tons of people and room is at a premium. No, get the fuck away from me when it's 9 p.m. and you have other places to stand....

I am working real hard this week on acceptance of loud headphone users. I can't change them (I'm too afraid to!) and I don't see them changing on their own, so the only alternative is acceptance. And boy, do I hate being forced to listen to bad music...

Maybe I'll write about something deeper next time. This was what was on my mind today.

bad coffee good coffee

We ran out of good coffee so I've resorted to el cheapo brand -- some unknown name we purchased in case of emergencies; little packets like you'd see at work in the lunchroom. However, this is some of the worst sh** I've ever tasted.

But this morning, I really need a jolt so I'm drinking some.

WE like our Starbucks (which we will get to in about an hour) and our Porto Rican imports and any other gourmet Italian or French or fancy-schmanzy Peruvian Guatamalan Free-Range Organic Shade-Grown Labor Friendly (supposedly!) flavor. Can you get anything in this world at a reasonable price without screwing someone else who's poorer than us? The people picking the coffee beans are probably using their kids to work, too, because they need the money, and the world keeps turning. I've come to the conclusion that if I'm shopping at a discount store and buying stuff I can afford then I'm probably helping maintain a miserable lifestyle for some poor bastard halfway around the world. On the other hand, if I could afford NICER stuff, would I then NOT be screwing some poor bastard halfway around the world? Maybe we simply have no choice, this is the choice that the conglomerates have given us because nothing is more important than their bottom line.

We try to eat healthy as much as possible. It's no secret, it's been reported in many places, that if you are poor you cannot eat healthy. You cannot buy fresh vegetables, you're forced to buy white bread, lots of cheap pasta, etc., etc. We are in a position now, with our combined incomes (which are not great, by any means, at least by New York standards) that we can make healthy choices. But here's what it comes down to: Whole grain bread is consistently two to three times as much. I'd also like to meet and smack the f***er who started the "healthy chip" craze and thought charging four times the price was a good idea. You can eat Lay's at 99 cents -- or multi-grain, sea salt-laced, olive-oil basted NATURAL potato chips for $4.99. Yikes!

Mostly, we just skip the chips. But I'm just saying -- here it is SUMMER, all the crops are in season, and we're paying $2/pound for green beans and apples? What the heck is going on?

We're screwed. I'm telling you, we're screwed. Don't get me started on how it's all the Republicans' fault... heh heh heh.