Mamma Mia!

yesterday i danced and danced and danced. it all started when oscar and el editor got me going. today still in my mind over and over again "i don't care if the sun don't shine..." it kept me from strangling the dude on speakerphone in my office. and then after work i packed my bags and headed uptown to dance and dance and dance some more. the most awesomely fabulous dance class ever. top notch teacher and drummers. six of them yesterday and on fire. almost 2 hours of this. there is nothing like it. all you think about is the music and the dance and both make you joyful. it soothes and moves and renews the soul. it makes you believe again. and just before you have a chance to get jaded, you fall into a deep and peaceful sleep.

i must have still been buzzing this morning because as i waited to get a banana and seltzer water, a man told me his life story and how great his job is. and then as he left the store and i wished him a good day, he responded "oh, i'll be alright."

that made me smile and as i walked the half block to work and thought about this nice man who just wanted to let it out (because sometimes that is what you want, no need, to do and it is most fortunate if you can) i passed to fellas on their way to work (i assume). "what a great smile" one commented. "thanks!" responded, thinking - this is how to pay it forward, right? and we wished each other good day. perky perky.

and then i called zimbabwe to make sure that my mother was ready to go to the airport. cos she's coming to town! i pick her up tomorrow night. i convinced her to take a break from her phenomenal farming - seriously, don't those cabbages look like they're on steroids? i am so mega-psyched. i got a coffee maker. i think i'm ready. and until tomorrow... i'll keep on dancing, dancing, dancing! i'm a dancing machine

Only Dancing Makes Sense...

so my first alarm went off somewhere around 6am and i got up and turned on my second alarm. i then lay down and began my morning stretches. i'm sure you can imagine how well that went. yeah... after some totally weird semi-dreams i wake up with a start. 8:15 and work starts at nine. hurry hurry dash out the front door (like my apartment has a back door).

the headlines on the papers. "the evil has landed", "bad man on campus", "here i come". a welcome break from o.j., isiah and brangelina, i suppose but i am wondering we we have our k-nickers in a k-not. i mean new york's council speaker was trying to tell columbia university that they shouldn't have him speak at the university. really, speaker quinn? really? i thought new york was legendary for its let folk express themselves attitude. perhaps i am still bitter about not being allowed to go to cuba but i mean he goes and he says what he has to say and we shake our heads or we clap in support or we just go off and do one of the million and one other things one can do in new york (hallelujah) and remain clueless.

i mean he either is on another planet, has gonads of steel or is completely batty because, i'm telling you that i would really have to believe in something phenomenal to take that stage at columbia. i mean all that booing and the risk of having rotten eggs thrown my way. i don't think i could do that (i hate the smell of eggs). and that stuff is hell to wash out of your hair - if the water gets too hot you run the risk of semi-cooking the egg and... so yeah, eggs. and you never know, instead of going for the heckler, the cops might taser me. jeez loueez! he's like britney spears in his let me just go someplace where the results can only be disastrous. we let britney do it AND we had to put up with awful wardrobe, atrocious lipsynching and i won't even discuss the "dancing".

and he still hasn't faced his biggest challenge. i mean after the chavez drama of last year's meeting. he's really going to have to pull all the stops. hey... you think maybe he'll flash some ahmadinej-abs?

A Dream Deferred

for a long time i have been wondering why i am not a politician. years ago i listened to the tips and worked on them. when talking don't distract the masses with excessive hand movements - unless you actually don't want them to get what you're saying. look people in the eye and make them feel they're important. i learnt about the various handshakes and what each meant - one hand, two hands, one hand while the other is on your shoulder... the whole deal. and yet, not even a mayor of a town of 1,000. why, i asked myself, why???
where did i go wrong.
my answer came the other day as i paged through my morning paper.
i need to work harder on the skeletons in my closet.
a councilman in queens was indicted on charges of raping a 52-year-old grandmother (if she had no grandkids would that have lessened the horrific nature of the crime, i wonder? but i digress). but he's just one among many. just in new york in the last 10 years a councilman was censured for alleged sexual harrassment. i say alleged because the councilman declared that none of the women making allegations was attractive enough to warrant his advances. you see. alleged. others are accused of sending condoms to the daughters of ex-mistresses. and well, just in the last year, politicians are trying to outdo each with the skeletons. i see your instant messages to underage boys and i raise you an invasion of privacy in a public bathroom (and then i'll distract people by stating i am not gay though i may totally be a peeping tom).

and i won't even tell you about my totally unpolitician behaviour if i were ever in a bathroom stall and looked up to find someone's beady eye ogling me from the stall next door. i would be be screaming and trying to make a hasty getaway before my stall neighbour had the opportunity to flash hand signals under the partition.

and i see that the longer i loiter on the sidelines, the more difficult it is going to become to find some attention grabbing outrage that somehow i'll be able to parlay into meaning that i am just like you. i mean, being caught doing crack with a prostitute has been taken. i can't try to be homophobic only to have my male prostitute out me not only as a regular client but also as a meth-head. hmmm? bad behaviour with an intern? done and played out.

i'm stumped. what to do.... what to do??

Swingin' On The Porch...

i know that i am not the only one with nothing really going on. here i was thinking - work work work, i am jack, the dull boy who just has no play in their life. but i tell you this, nothing loves company like misery or dullery, come to think of it. and i know this because?
front page of the paper on monday - isiah washington who thinks it is okay to say, in company, that while calling a white woman a bitch is an insult, somehow calling a black woman a bitch might even border on, if not a compliment, then a statement of solidarity.
tuesday front page - o.j. simpson was allegedly involved in an armed robbery (but he was only trying to get his stuff back). is there a photo of this man since roots or that hertz commercial, where he doesn't look totally off his rocker?
today's paper? brad pitt and angelina jolie - and the burning question is "more babies for brangelina?"
it's excellent to know that i am missing out on almost absolutely nothing in this world. it is almost as though the world is revolving around me and when i pause, it does too.
spooky.

Summer's End...

oh how i hate my lazy ways. as i sit on my couch i think - get up! do something. i think it hard. i think it strong. i stay on the couch. and promise myself; tomorrow, tomorrow and tomorrow again...

ask me why, i have no answer. for when something takes me off my couch i am pretty much always glad i came. i head home promising myself that i'll do better in the future. so much to do and so little time and can't i appreciate how lucky i am to live in a place with more to do than i know what to do with?

tonight it was a series of short films from filmmakers from london. tell me again, why i don't do better? the first film, blood, was about a boxer with a friend no one approves of and a father who states, "i know who you are and i know what you are" and he doesn't like it. i thought to myself - i miss my boxing class.

you ever heard of darkie day? yeah, me neither. hello google and wikipedia. i know the filmmaker and i shared the same expression throughout the documentary. uh-huh... wow.

after the intermission, things totally lightened up with mOrally speaking - where a couple argues "about an uspoken taboo among black men." i thought, taboo? really? and laughed so hard, i didn't feel so bad about having to miss yoga class.

of course, the one film that i wasn't so excited about had the director available for a q&a session. riding home on the train, laughing with my friend, folk are looking at us, probably wondering if we're drunk - that's how hard we're laughing. i get home and i think - wasn't that fun? aren't i so lucky? i swear i'm going to do better. i unlock the door, drop my bag and collapse onto my couch.

Milestones

we were massive. and it was our moment to show the world. third form entertainment (the fundraiser for our fourth form dance) and we were going to be major. we were the coolest thing that had happened to our high school. who could have imagned that so many talented and creative people could end up in one year group at one school? and we had grand plans. we had been planning since the year before, perhaps since first form.

so many of us were triple threats - dancers, actors and, at the very least, excellent lip-synchers (if not straight up singers) - and full of creative culture. we were going to put on a show that would be spoken of for years. every free moment was spent planning and working on the show. it was not an easy job - everyone had to be involved and every piece had to be top notch. the theme? award show. it was brilliant! somehow everyone's talent could be incorporated into a fake music video, fake tv show or fake commercial. and through it all we were given free range. yes about 124 fourteen and fifteen year-olds were left to their own devices.

they should have known what they were in for. the year before our form two play, jonahman jazz, included rap and awesomely choreographed routines (i'm not going to get into why all the black girls were cast as thieves and criminals - nineveh city, after all, was a city of sin). but we were given free periods to rehearse and plan and market. posters at every cool boys' school we could think of and invitations to everyone we knew - my mother came in from out of town (this was our big moment, there was no way she was missing it).

the place was packed. standing room only. our third form entertainment was the place to be that night. we used music from fame for our opening number. salt n pepa's push it followed it. yes, we were diverse like that. the beatles' when i'm 64 was mixed all in there. but some missed it as a few upset parents walked out during push it and went home to compose letters of outrage. we had a fashion show where my fabulous outfit fell apart just before i hit the stage and our masterpiece. a fake commercial for acne cream:

one day i was walking
looking at the sky
then i saw a rainbow
and it was so high

it was a fountain of love
it was a fountain of love

looking in the mirror
staring at my spots
then it dawned upon me
there were lots and lots

it was a fountain of love
it was a fountain of love

the concept was pure abbaesque disco - images with warm images. women with big hair floating through parks with beautiful fountains. and at the end of it all? flawless skin.

and so the show went on. and on. and on. people drifted out but we had to get all 100 plus of us in a piece or three. finally we puttered to an end and still, out in the almost empty hall, my mother sat. waiting for me to be done. i did mention that she flew in just for this. to support her daughter. as i walked her to the car and she left after congratulating me. it was monday morning before i discovered that night was a shameful disaster. that we were out of control and sans mores for including salt n pepa in our programme. our embrace of contemporary culture and dance was criticised and yet when i told my mother that apparently our big night was a black mark on the reputation of our esteemed high school for girls, all she had to say was:

i could see you put a lot of work into this. it was very interesting. i'm proud of you.

and she is surprised that i remember a small thing like calling to say happy birthday. and she's mumble-mumble and looks fabulous for that age.

oh yes... never allowed to put on a big show. ever. again. but we remained. legendary. i repeat. legend-ary.

Heroes II

then i was sitting on my couch, watching tv and it ambled out of the kitchen... like it owned the place. my feet were off the floor, quicker than lightning. across the neighbour had said i was okay but now i wasn't. i was in peril and it stood between me and my front door.



i called across the hall neighbour. voicemail. very friendly voicemail at that. though i didn't know him as well, i called my neighbour to the left and he was in. but i would have to open the door to let him in. i ran, didn't look into the kitchen, just opened the door and he came in. and found nothing.

check again

there's nothing here.

what am i supposed to do?

just call me when it comes back and i'll come back.



i didn't know him so well, so i pretended to be brave. but the traps came out (the exterminator had left me a supply.) and again i came home to one in a trap (sounds like great odds but you would have to see how many traps i put out then) and called my neighbour to the left. i'm out but i'll be back in a few hours. a few hours? but i can't get into the apartment. but isn't it stuck on a trap? but what if it breaks free? i mean i can hear it. i can't go in. wait a second he says.

knock on my door.

his girlfriend. holding a broom. i hear you have a problem.

and though she was almost as scared as me, she got rid of it.



i ask my roommate - still in nigeria - what is going on. oh so casually, like it's no big deal - well they come up when it gets cold and you know the building is old you just have to put out traps. that is exactly what the exterminator said but that was unacceptable. my heart could only take so much. i was reaching my breaking point.



two nights later it was back (and they say it is cats that have nine lives), trying to join me in the living room. i squeaked out something that let it know that i didn't want the company and grabbed my phone. ring... ring... voicemail. and i start

sorry to bother you but it's back and i don't know what to do. it keeps coming back and i don't know how to stop it and...

my voice broke.

i can't believe i'm crying i'm so sorry.

i hung up. i did tell you that i didn't know him that well

and now he had witnessed me break.

and still he treated me as thought it all made sense (which it does, despite what you say) and helped me get the landlord send someone to try to fill in all the holes. and then he laughed. very hard. my hero

Heroes I

the weather was getting cooler - winter was coming. the landlord had turned the heat on in the building so the cold outside was not yet such a big deal. i was asleep and then suddenly i was awake and terrified. though i had never heard it before i knew what it was, that scratching entered my dreams and i lay in bed terrified. the lights were off but i had to see if i really had heard it or imagined it.

i lay, silently debating - should i chance stepping on the ground to reach the light switch or should i write it off as an over-active imagination and try to get back to sleep? who was i kidding? i wasn't about to sleep! if you gauged my heart, i was about to have a heartattack. i thought about it a little. new york apartment, i could try to reach the switch. so i did. and almost immediately we were looking at each other... eye to eye.

me and that rodent. rat, mouse, i don't care, it wasn't paying rent, it wasn't welcome. and yet it was staring me down and standing between me and the door. i thought, what now? my roommate was in nigeria and i was being held prisoner by this animal. i know, i know. you laugh and you say to me - oh, that little thing! it's more scared of you than you are of it. well, let me tell you something. as we gazed unblinking at each other one of us was petrified, the other had fur.

i stood on my futon and thought, this thing is very close to the ground; i can't stay in this room. i have to take my chances. and what? the only weapon i thought i might have was a can of pledge. and i would only have one chance to make that pledge effective. if i didn't aim accurately and get that rodent dead in the eye, all it would have is a shiny coat and it would attack me and... i couldn't think about it. i leapt for the door, screaming as i went. i slammed the door and ran through the living room into my roommate's empty room and slammed that door shut. then i sealed the bottom of the door with clothes and lay down. i tried to convince myself that i was safe but all i did was watch the clock until the stores were open. i got the glue traps and put them around the apartment and dashed off to work.

i came home to the sound of squeaking and stood, trapped, near the entrance wondering what to do. i knocked on the door of my neighbour across the hall. his mother fears rodents as i do so i didn't even have to finish my sentence. he went in. for a second i wondered if i should be polite and show him in. sensing my hesitation he ordered me out so i wouldn't have to see.

two minutes later. okay, it's gone he says. are you sure? yes. and i believed.

Tutu True

bishop desmond tutu, patron of south africa's national barbeque (braai) day, says that braaing is a unifying force and i say, amen to that. unless they forgot to order enough t-bone steaks for the event, nothing brings people together like meat and fire. and so today i begin the campaign for an international barbeque day.

for, what can be more wonderful than greasy hands and faces and lethargic bellies? no drama, just a touch of salad and starch so that you can call it a meal and lots of humidity-free sunshine. oh, and someone who doesn't mind getting smoke in their eyes... the braai-master to make sure that, as the wise archbishop says, "ordinary activities like eating can unite people of different races, religions, sexes... short people, tall people, fat people, lean people."

such a prestigious and important position this archbishop holds and this is a chance for an unprecedented second nobel peace prize. i'm going to write to him now. he needs to spread the word, we all need to get our hands tasty dirty, turn the music up and all you'll be able to do is love, laugh and pass the salt.

In Sight Of Chaos

i was just a girl. not even twelve yet. so how can you blame me? how could i resist those strong, wide shoulders as he stepped out of that car. diplomatic plates. CD 47. tinted windows. how these things stay with us.

we hoped that he would notice us yet prayed he wouldn't see us as we tailed him around the librbary. he remained seemingly oblivious; taking books off shelves as we swooned around the corner, every move a magnificent miracle. was it possible that a physique that perfect existed beyond the confines of the covers of those historical novels that sat in the adult section - where we were allowed to look but could not touch. i knew his name for he went to school with my brother. i had gotten that information without letting on my intentions. my brother may have felt it was his duty to defend my honour against a man who knew nothing of my existence.

herman hesse. how familiar that name sounded but i had no time to figure out why. i was too busy picking the two books closest to me for he was headed towards the library and i had to beat the other girls and get as close to herman hesse as possible. not too close as to be obvious but close enough to maybe feel his essence, to smell his aura (or at the very least his cologne). i would mumble, hopefully, the right responses to the librarian stamping my book - recognising me from the week before - barely able to hold myself back as he exited the library. grabbing my books i would casually hurry out the door to catch that magnificent back disappearing behind the tinted glass of that black car.

and at that moment i would take flight from the self. perhaps brush the edges of nirvana. but, all too soon, the black car would disappear around the corner and i would be jerked back to the reality of how i was going to explain my book choices to my father. and to make plans for next week.

Awesome Chocolate Cake Recipe!!!

i couldn't resist the teaser "a golden boy becomes a killer, possibly because of a brain defect". i don't know what i expected but a the end of the show i was thinking that perhaps i am the one with the brain defect. so here the story goes:

so, there is a man named stephen stanko and he grew up in south carolina and his life was pretty unremarkable. no mention of him being prom king, captain of the football team or even head of the debate team (and you know the media would have been all over that, if it had been so). there were no clips of old high school girlfriends going on about how popular he had been. none of that. we did learn, however, that his father had been in the navy and was a strict disciplinarian. oh and he did well in class - somewhere in the top twenty - so perhaps that is where the golden came in.

senior year comes along and it is time to decide what to do. stephen claims that he turns down a whole bunch of scholarships (can you smell the skepticism?) because he wants to be some kind of engineer in the navy. but he doesn't get in. perhaps the navy admisson process sniffed out the brain defect.

so then he goes to community college for a little bit and runs minor scams a lot. i guess this is where we should have started to suspect that maybe his mother dropped him on his head - i blame her because he NEVER talks about her.... issues. then he gets a girlfriend and moves in with her. but he can't stop stealing from her and pawning her stuff on the streets. finally she is all - hey, before i don't even have a couch to sit on, you need to go. now he's not ready to live in a homeless shelter so he comes to her with a cloth soaked in chlorox and 409 and tries to suffocate her.

she's all why are you doing this (like she forgot that she was trying to kick him out on the streets)

and he's all - damn, why aren't you dying, it worked on tv (no joke)

he ties her up and does all kinds of things, including singing as he washes his hands.

for this he gets sentenced to ten years in prison - he serves 8 and a half and authors a book (there he goes, golden boy).

soon after getting out of prison he meets a new woman and, in no time, he has moved in. and started with the fraud schemes. so i'm not sure what happened this time but he killed this girlfriend (strangulation), raped the daughter and slashed the daughter's throat, twice. leaving daughter for dead, he moseyed on over to 74 year-old's friend's place where he shot the guy and took his truck. i don't know but since they were friends i think if he had just asked the guy would have let him take the truck.

former golden boy (i am thinking at this point he was no longer considered golden) ended up in augusta georgia where he met a woman in a bar on a saturday, went home with her and was at church with her on sunday morning. a couple of days later, this woman's friend calls her at work and is all - well, you know i'm not one to gossip but i think you better turn to page 5b of the paper, gurl.

and there she finds a photo of her new fabulous boyfriend, as one of america's most wanted. so, she calls the cops and they arrest him and his defence?

his brain is smaller than average and he has a brain defect (they had diagrams and everything) and thus has no impulse control and so he can't be held responsible for his actions. thought it seems that his small brain was able to control his impulses when surrounded by a bunch of big men during his 8 and a half years in prison. i don't know about you but i think anyone who did any of the above is one sick bastard and i really don't need diagrams to be convinced that there's something wrong with them.

but, what was i talking about again? i kinda lost track of the plot but, don't you get so mad when you watch a totally cool preview/teaser and then the movie is nowhere near as cool and has almost absolutely nothing to do with the preview/teaser? i am beginning to understand why elvis threw things at the television.

Lazy Sunday...

i was up and about today at 8:45. finally i could kick my workout slump in the butt. i couldn't remember the last time i went running. i want to say june but it could have been late may. i have been taking yoga on thursdays but it hasn't been every thursday, sometimes work gets in the way. for a few weeks now i have been promising myself that i'll get up and get out and do something. so i go through the routine - warm up, stretch (not a very good one, i am ashamed to say), inhaler, cellphone on the arm (in case i have to call 911) and keys.

so, you know i said i had not run in a few months? well it was some evil demon that got me to go on a five mile course. and once you're out there, you're out there and it is not like anyone is going to send a car to pick you up. so i thought, well, i have to stretch out the muscles so i don't hurt so much. followed run up with a yoga workout. so how do i feel? ouch.

switched on my tv with the volume on really low. there were a lot of politicians on tv and i know there are some reports on iraq due and some senator resigned so i kept the volume off until the tennis started. i didn't want to hear something that would make me want to throw something at the tv - yoga had left my arms rather lifeless. monday always seems like a good day to reconnect with reality.

i did find drapes to use as room dividers that will be long enough. i completed a couple of chores for my mother - how is it that i have not lived with her in over ten years and still i have chores? i called a friend to ask for a big, huge favour - so lucky i am to have friends who say, yes i shall do that for you and even say that it's not a problem.

i tell you... nothing like kicking back on a sunday and just letting the day float over you. i am off to stretch the hams...

Super Saturday!!!

i woke up in the dead of night because my head was killing me. i thought if i lay there until the sun came up, maybe the pain would have gone by then. but my mother's voice kept me from even trying to fall back asleep - be proactive with the headache. if you treat it early then it won't get worse. i dragged myself out of bed to take sudafed (i was congested so i figured it must be a sinus headache). it was almost 5 am. and then i realised that my shoulders were really tight. so i stuck a pain pad on the back of each shoulder. smelling of menthol, i crawled back into bed and groaned back to sleep.

but when i woke up, my head still hurt. so i ate a little fruit - melons and a couple of grapes. and some rooibos tea - caffeine free. and took a couple more sudafed. and i started watching tennis - the us open is on, have you heard? still pound pound pound. but i was a woman on a mission. i had some home improvement planned - i was to put up some gauzy curtains as a room divider between my kitchen, hallway and living room. so i took my backpack and walked over to the hardware store. i walked the aisles and finally found a cute little rod to put up (i got the curtains the day before) and then i headed over to dunkin donuts. coffee - caffeine - my head was still killing me.

a cup of coffee later, head was still driving me nuts. so i took a couple aleve and then started getting my tools together. i had to charge up the cordless drill but i finally got the brackets in the wall and was ready to put the rod up. just a little too short. and the curtains? just a little too short. apparently i went shopping at chez baby bear. turns out the curtain are also a little too gauzy - they are blowing all over the place and i don't even have all the windows open.

it's all up, but it ain't that pretty. so back to the drawing board. i had everything measured out but my accuracy must have been a tad compromised because there was no one holding the other end of the tape measure. excuses, excuses... a growing experience. if the drilling hadn't been so much fun, i might have decided to rethink the whole home improvement gig.

headache is gone though.

Family Friday, The Big Brother Edition

so i have an older brother - i mentioned that i recently found out that he has a blog. those who know me know that i rag on him, oh, like almost all the time. i won't start here, or i may run out of blog space. but lately, we have been talking quite a bit. he is a high school teacher - physics and chemistry and who knows what else - and classes started this week.

as long as i can remember (and i can remember long) my brother has been the nicest person i know. and i don't always say it in a complimentary way. also, he would give that cherry tree cutting dude a run for his money when it comes to honesty. couldn't lie to win his kids in a custody case - luckily for him, it is not something he has to worry about. but when you have folk rolling their eyes about how this guy just cannot even tell a "white" lie - no, you don't look fat in that dress; yes i think your hair looks good - you know you have a case on your hands. oh... he is also a compulsive truth-teller. unprompted. out it comes. not always endearing. but then again, never a lie. and always just so damn nice. which would you prefer?

and this super nice, honest guy, woke up one day and said - i want to be a teacher. so i said - oh, okay (because that is what you say, right?) and then next thing i know he is on some course and has quit his lab job and is starting at some school for "at risk children" and then he transferred to an "inner city" school. whatever label the group of kids was given, they were high school kids. teenagers. and, when i asked him about his day at work, there were quite a few badass kids up in there too. yeah, i know i went to an uber-strict boarding school (nicknamed the pink prison and not for nothing either), so what do i know about badass? going to the bathroom without permission impresses me.

but you talk to him and he loves his job. he plans rope tricks that will help the students with lateral thinking and topology. he calls their parents if a kid misbehaves. on that day. to say, hello, your kid misbehaved today. apparently the kids didn't believe him in the beginning, when he said he would. apparently they don't know about his whole honesty fetish. he offers make up classes to help some kids, who are just a little short, graduate. i sure hope that he doesn't burn out any time soon. i'm burnt out just thinking about it...

Zen Thursday

oh... i am so ready to go to bed. in fact after the deep relaxation, all i am doing is pretty much counting the minutes until i can hit the sack. thursday? yoga at lunchtime day and i don't care what anyone tells me i have no clue what's going on anywhere. i did my full shoulder stand - to reverse the aging process - and followed it with the opposition pose, the fish - which reverses the reversal? i don't know... all i know is that everything seemed to balance out after that.

i bumped into my neighbour who had a bandaid on his arm. jokingly, i asked if his cousin had cut him and he said, oh no, i got hit by a car. and i was all - hit? glad i didn't have one of those moments where the response was, oh no but my cousin just died and i am headed to the morgue.
i digress. so i am all - hit?
not badly (explains the bandaid) just a little knock. turns out a woman lost hold of her kid and her kid ran out into an intersection. the car swerved to avoid the child and knocked my neighbour - but ever so lightly.
you see? balance.

so you think i was going to jeopardise that with the possibility of real life? no way, jose! came home and sat with my neighbour (the one who wasn't hit by a car), ate apple pie and ice cream and watched the family guy and law & order reruns.

ohmmmmmm...

Wacky Wednesday

it almost slipped my mind, it's not like it was big news today - more focus was on some actor guy named owen and his apparent deep depression - but it was the second anniversary of the disaster called katrina. president bush says there has been a lot of progress since then and so i don't understand why a whole lot of the people living in louisiana and mississippi (especially those pessimistic louisiana folk) are complaining that little has been done. granted some claim they are still homeless, but there is a bridge that has been repaired that will cut your ride by about 45 minutes so you can get back to your not a home in no time. now, isn't that progress?

i think the gloomy media, who make money off of my sadness it seems, is just trying really hard. somehow they seem able to find desolate landscapes and devastated people. how do they do that? i guess that's why they get paid the big bucks. because they really get me choked up everytime and apparently i am not the only one they have thinking that there might be something wrong with the fact that very little seems to have gone on since the water evaporated - except a bunch of mould growing in what is basically rubble. but look at me, i am getting sucked into it all, those reporters and their powerful imagery. i won't be sucked in. if the leaders of this nation see no reason to be ashamed of all of that. if they can ignore it and we here can still be a super power and the greatest nation in the world, heck, i need to switch to the us open and get a grip.

Moody Tuesday

i got mail today!!! who knew i would be so happy to get a bunch of junk mail and bills. but after my visit to the post office on saturday where i stood in line for an hour and a half - like i was trying to buy a nintendo wii - only to be told there was nothing there. of course i asked, so where is my mail? "you'll have to come back on monday and talk to blah blah white noise, control yourself pandave....

(i know i didn't close the quotation marks but the moment never ended)

i was told by a neighbour that word around the building is that i am holding an open house. so i spent the day wondering who started the rumour and if it is part of an elaborate plan to explain my disappearance in a week or two... yes, i watch that much crime television.

i went to whole foods today and discovered wine sorbet... now why am i discovering frozen wine at the end of summer? but no... silver lining - still in time for labour day weekend. i am off to buy cones.

stevie wonder's part time lover is an awesome pre-bed dance song. remember to dance lightly if you have downstair's neighbours and to lip synch if your walls are as thin as mine.

gotta find out when my open house is... have to make the space look extra special... this apartment i don't know i'm giving up.

Monday Java

i am easing into monday morning today, drinking my water and checking my bag to make sure i have everything i might need. the usual checklist - wallet, phone, keys. today, an envelope of papers to send to my older brother and lunch (yes, i spent the afternoon cooking yesterday). i have bbc world news on and have just watched a clip about princess diana. oops i almost forgot the sunglasses - i hate when i get downstairs and i have to decide how glaringly bright the sun is. is it worth walking back up to the fourth floor for the glasses?

i have my ipod on and i pick up the remote to turn off the telly and i see the banner - breaking news. i wonder, yet again, are they going to tell me castro is dead (damn you bloggers and your panic-inducing rumours!)? but instead alberto gonzalez has resigned. the man who insisted he wasn't going anywhere; the same alberto that dubya pledged to stand by until the end? to be honest, it was a bit of an anti-climax. i know many were calling for him to resign but i wanted to see him get into just a little bit of trouble first.

but, such better news than "castro is dead". it is a dream of mine to do a trip to cuba under castro. but i have to work out the kinks, the biggest being that this bastion of democracy that i am in doesn't allow me to go and hang in cuba. but after reading the government site on cuba, i know they are doing it for my own good. but when did i ever start doing things for my own good? hell, i have seen people with bleeding feet and still i want to run a marathon

Yawn

so my little brother arrived last night. from zimbabwe. in boston. at about 10:30pm (flight was delayed because it seems people are not happy at heathrow). and he came out about half an hour later - after being photographed and fingerprinted. seeing how he felt to see familiar faces after a 24-hour plus commute, makes my current hysteria so worth it.

he got into his college van and went off to begin orientation before he starts college and i got into my rental and drove back to new york. i hit the highway after midnight and got to my apartment at 4am (in case you imagined a shooting star last night). i was awoken at 6:30 am to be informed by a company trying to make a pickup from me that my intercom is broken.

you know i am thinking perhaps this is a sign. i am getting no mail, and now my intercom doesn't work. should i be going on walkabout?

tomorrow i shall continue to stalk my clever landlord who just doesn't answer the phone and never calls back... unless you owe them money.

but tonight i am not complaining... i think i need some moments of unreachability... until i have to walk down four flights of stairs to let that murphy's law visitor in...

This One's My Favourite!

because knowledge is power (and ignorance oscillates between being bliss and bondage), unicef launched the coolest campaign ever in germany. the goal is either to stop kids from complaining when they have to wake up in the morning to go to school or to teach them how africa is one nation unified in unedumaction. the campaign features 4 ads with the following blurbs:

• in africa, many kids would be glad to worry about school
• some teachers suck. no teachers sucks even more
• in africa, kids don't come to school late, but not at all
• i'm waiting for my last day in school, the kids in africa still for their first one

for all their efforts, all unicef got back was a whole lot of complaining. apparently some found the muddy blackface offensive. other nitpickers decided that the whole painting the continent's population with one education crisis brush was not the way forward.

well, unicef rushed to assure folk that the aim was to show that "children may look different but are equal - we all want to go to school." well they are wrong on both counts - according to the campaign, german children don't really want to go to school and spend their time there counting the days until they can leave. and this ad campaign clearly shows that will a little mud, all kids DO look alike.

It's The Economy Stupid!

a few months ago i had a little travelling adventure that ended up in security confiscating my special sunscreen. as soon as i got home i went straight to sephora to pick up another bottle of the stuff - ever since i learnt about the huge hole in the ozone layer while in high school i have been paranoid about the sun. it may all be a marketing ploy but it sure does work on me.

a few weeks later i travelled again - i had a huge ziploc bag but mr security guy confiscated my sunscreen again - apparently the bottle was too big. coincidence? conspiracy? cign?

this time it took a while to go back. in fact, it took until today to go back. i trundled over to sephora and, after the sale, i looked in my bag. what? no samples?! the only reason i ever thought of sephora was because every time my brother got something from them he got the coolest samples that he chucked over my way. i can understand belt-tightening and all but i thought the word was that we are in a recession. plus dubya told us that the best way to demonstrate our patriotism was through shopping. because, um, our sales tax goes to help pay for building democrazy and body armour. but how am i supposed to shop when i'm not getting my free samples, doggone it!?

the dark cloud of i've been cheated must have been totally cheated must have been visible because some women dressed in black, pink and green handed me a free mascara and another store gave me free hair product that i can actually use on my hair. i should have told pink, black and green to stop over in sephora and teach them a thing or two about patriotism.

Beef!

last thursday i came home from work and checked my mailbox. empty. i was a little surprised - it is not as though the junk mail comes everyday but the pre-approved loaners usually wait until the weekend to give me a break. but i didn't sweat it - it's not as though someone was sending me a letter. i missed my new york magazine but i decided it must be one of those weeks when the mag takes a break.

i went away for the weekend and came back on monday night - to an empty mailbox.
"there's no mail." my neighbour, stating the obvious.

turns out the postal service and my new landlord had a falling out over some key box that grants access to the mail deliverer. now, i have lived here since 2001 and, in all that time, there has never been a key box outside our building. not that any of it mattered, i had to pass through the post office and pick up my mail on my way to work. why do my shoes pick that day to be military grade tools of torture?

i get to the post office and my mail lady encourages, no practically demands that i jump into the fray.
"it's not just your building; the landlord owns 2 other buildings and they don't have a key box and so they're not getting any mail either! call the office and keep calling them and tell them that they have to put that box out there. until they do it, you'll have to come here once a week because i'll only sort your mail once a week, and pick up your mail. i know you get a lot of mail but it's your landlord's fault."

i am guessing that neither rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night doesn't include missing key boxes.

Heat Advisory

on saturday i gave in. i had been lying on my couch since friday afternoon, trying to convince myself that the hot and impossibly humid blanket of atmosphere could be eased by my hardworking fan. i couldn't take it anymore; i couldn't put it off any longer. i left my apartment and trudged over to the local appliance store (i am not going to plug them because some of the staff there were, quite frankly, less than friendly). i picked up an air conditioner that was supposed to be the right capacity for my living room and i took a cab home. i paid a guy $25 to carry the thing up to my fourth floor apartment and set about installing this window unit.

i pull out the instruction book and follow it step by step. there are some things i can't do - like bolt the unit to my outside sill, because it appears to be made out of iron and i can't seem to make a dent in it. but i get the thing in the window and go to the second last step. i am supposed to remove a screw from the ac unit. except, now that it is in the window, my screwdriver won't fit in to the side to do this. so... i am holding on to the a/c unit and trying to move it out of the window so i can start again and the next thing i know the machine is airborne.

i try to grab it but get only air (which might be a good thing because that unit gained momentum with a quickness and i might have just followed it) and then i watch it tumble down and hit the ground. it hit the ground with an almighty crash and hissed for the next 30 minutes, as i paced around my apartment, wringing my hands and saying oh my god, over and over again. and then i looked out the window and, yes, it was still there, pieces scattered below; thankfully no one pinned underneath it, as far as i could see.

the thought crossed my mind - maybe i can take the pieces back for an exchange. but once i got downstairs - frantic and sweaty as all get down, sanity returned. there was no way.

perhaps it is a sign... maybe i am to be a lab rat for global warming...
we have a heat advisory today

Breaking News?

i just went to my home page on my browser. and there was a flashing breaking news message. and the headline? bush will have colonoscopy.
i just don't know what to do with myself.

That Darned Mote...

so, i decided a while back that there must be a law in zimbabwe that it must make the bbc every day. be it a the day in pictures, an athlete with gender identity issues or tales of a crazy... hello? what's this?

today i am trolling the beeb and whoa! man sues archbishop for adultery? and it has to be the most famous archbishop in zimbabwe; the one most opposed to the current regime. but the tale is full of accusations and denials and the most exciting bit is the part about the bishop talking about standing in front of blazing guns and i thought to myself - isn't it peace and non-violence the message of the vatican? ah, but it goes to show that he is not a puppet of the pope.

during a low energy moment i decide to revive myself with a google search of pius ncube and boy was i ever woken up. i read about how the hubby must be a fan of the show cheaters cos he hired a private investigator who installed a secret camera in the "holy bedroom". i didn't even know that the bedroom was holified in this manner, but heck no time to stop, this story is interesting. there is talk of pictures where the "naked Archbishop Ncube is seen cuddling and equally naked Mrs Ncube in his bedroom". i am putting my money on sold out newspapers in zimbabwe today.

and at the end of this i thought, i am filing a patent for a pill for those in politics. one that kills all sexual desire, for like a year or four while you complete the whole revolution for the people thing. because nothing distracts from frivolous issues, such as the economy stupid (or super-antiquated adultery laws; don't get me started), like a stained blue dress and a naked cuddling archbishop.

That's The Way Uh-Huh, Uh-Huh...

you know what this world needs? more dancing. we need to be dancing like all the time.
i have mental images of the age of the hippies and you know what they did a lot of? dancing. and they seemed pretty darned happy. even though their nation was at war, there they were, with flowers around their heads and outfits that flattered absolutely no one, dancing dancing dancing! and even though they hated war and death and stuff they would dance around, make the peace sign and say thing like - make love, not war. all calm like. some people say it was all the drugs they were allegedly doing but i don't believe that. it was the dancing.

i tell you this when i wake up in the morning and oscar and el editor get me dancing and thinking it makes me a perkier person. i don't even feel like knocking that guy, pushing me around on the train, in the head. and when i am dragging and i go to my senegalese sabar class it doesn't even matter that my teacher tells me that he can tell i am not senegalese when i start to move because i'm flashing the peace sign and i am approachable again.

i say that if there were more dancing, there would be less fighting - unless they were dance fighting like in the michael jackson beat it video. even if your mother told you you could never be a solid gold dancer - dance your heart out. and if someone tries to step into your space and disturb your groove, bop them on the head if you have to. because they should be dancing!

And Thus We Go On...

about eight months ago, i told you about my two girls and showed you one of them, chimoto. that's because zuva was falling apart and i had not figured out how to make her happy. you can see though that chimoto is really happy on top of the fridge (i took her down to take a picture... very quickly; i didn't want her out of her happy zone for too long). when i water her and sing to her and just gaze at her, i am always happy that i have found a way to make her happy. my first brooklyn plant. i still have no clue what kind of plant she is but to me she is my brooklyn flame.

but zuva? oh man... after the blog, she continued to die. i would be in denial for days and finally have to remove a dry, brown leaf from the pot. i reached a point where i thought - if anyone visits me, they'll think i'm crazy. i have a pot with a leaf in it. a leaf, for goodness's sake. give it up, it is just not working. sometimes things just aren't meant to be. i picked up the pot and walked over to the trash can but i couldn't bring myself to do it. i put zuva back on the windowsill. i would have to watch that last leaf die, rot and become compost before i threw the pot away.

and look what happened. i can barely believe it myself sometimes. i tiptoe up to her sometimes because i don't know what i did but i just don't want to mess with zuva's feng shui. she's a sensitive one, that one and yet it seems that she too is a survivor; a real fighter. the one that keeps me foolishly optimistic even when totally hopeless. and although i have not seen her yellow flowers in a while, she still is my sunshine.

All Is Hell With The World

just as i was about to pack it in and call it a day with this whole life thing. everything was going to pot and all news was bad news. if we didn't blow ourselves up we would burn ourselves with global warming. lately i have not felt like i'm burning up so much as melting in this infernal humidity.

then, because i am a sucker for punishment, i decided to visit the beeb before i went to bed. and i saw the name alan johnston. i thought - darn they executed him and made a video. but no. i refreshed the page to make sure. he was released. what? you mean good things happen? there is hope? goodness, i could barely believe it.

pretty much the next day i woke up to 3 year old kidnapped in nigeria's delta region. i mean, i can sorta kinda understand the kidnapping of oil workers - the whole imperialist exploiter deal. but a three year old? that kind of thing lives with you forever, what excuse can you possibly give for traumatising a three year old?

and then after giving the kid back (with mosquito bites, to boot) they take another three year old! are you trying to see if rage can really make me explode? are you trying to see which i would rather be - hopeless or mad as all get down?

or are you trying to get me to believe that all news is bad news? law & order reruns are the order of the day.

Buy One Get One Free

what are you doing even reading this? you should be out there getting your shop on. there is a sale going on of epic proportions. everything must go! all prices slashed, no exceptions (well, i mean maybe things like tampons, but those are luxury items... who needs those?) hear ye! hear ye! go zimbabwe and get it while it's hot and cheap. everything's half price or lower and no one can refuse to sell! goods can't stay on the shelf. any shop owner trying to keep things in stock will be arrested. so shop until you drop! until there is nothing left. this is one sale you can't afford to miss. be prepared to battle with other bargain shoppers. this is a sale like no other. you got a hummer? fuel prices slashed. less than $2 a gallon. you won't find prices like that anywhere (well, maybe in qatar, but can you get a bargain on bread too in qatar?). fill up and kill the atmosphere cheaply! i can barely type, this pricing is so out of this world. in fact... hey! what am i doing sitting here telling you about it? there's a heck of a sale going on!! you better stay away from my bottle of cooking oil... i WILL beat you down for it.

I'm It!

FB tagged me...



The Rules are:-

• We have to post these rules before we give you the facts.


• Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves.


• People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.


• At the end of your blog post, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.


• Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.

okay... deep breath and here we go:

1. i am addicted to dr bronner's soap. mainly the peppermint. since 2002. i have tried to break free. i have tried other soaps and body washes. nothing hits the spot like dr bronner's.
2. most of the time my emotions scare me. sometimes i think they scare other people. often they leave people drained. except my sister - bless her.
3. i have a vampire bite. on the back of my right calf. i've shown it to my mother. she said, "are you sure", i said "yes", and she said "okay".
4. i am a people magnet. strangers approach me and tell me their life stories or just their problems. all the time. even when i have headphones on.
5. sometimes i just can't remember someone's name. the name just won't stick. which really sucks when i really like them. it makes them think i don't care - but i do! i really do.
6. i cannot listen to hotel california. it brings the rodents and i am petrified of the rodents. typing this filled me with fear - i hope my words have no power. just the song. which i cannot listen to.
7. my brother has a blog. i stumbled upon it today. he's had it since at least the beginning of last year. why didn't i know this?
8. apparently i have world leader tendencies.

i'm on a right old tear here. once i started, well... but rules is rules and so 8 is 8...

now who can i tag? hmmmm...

the mysterious tu007?
the revolutionary dearcabbie?
the poetic prettylyf?
the globe-trotting carla?
the writer tjidzani?
the erratic black dove?
the creative dodos?
the soulful maddy?

lucky number 8! show me some love!!

All We Need Is Love

good morning pandave! welcome to monday and just for you we have a story about a brooklyn father who killed his 21-year-old son in the bathtub and then killed himself. have a great day!

maybe it is now the news story of choice of late but it seems that killing your family and then yourself has become all the rage. i can totally understand growing tired and of this world and wanting to try something or nothing else - brooklyn dad left a note saying that he had tried to get help for his depression and nothing was helping - but what's up with not wanting to just go it solo. i mean it's not as though the other folk said they didn't want to give this whole life game another stab. talk about misery loving company! sheesh!!!

what? do you think you might want them to come along to hold your hand during your trip on the other side? when i think about it, unless your kin is like jeffrey dahmer, i doubt you're headed in the same direction. you'll probably still be alone.

maybe you have decided that this world really sucks and you don't want to impose the pain of existence on your nearest and dearest. why not try a suicide pact? if they love you, i'm sure they'll be right behind you... or not. they might catch sight of some shiny happy people and think that they might want to give life a chance. hell, they may catch sight of some miserable existentialists and still think they are willing to roll with the punches.

i don't know... you could be upset that those you love couldn't help you conquer your demons. they're probably broken up inside about it too. i mean even if they say things like "it's killing me that i can't help you," that's a figure of speech. most people don't mean it literally.

all you end up doing is leaving us trying to figure out how to be sad and angry at the same time. and i tell you that's almost as difficult as walking and chewing gum at the same time.

You Can't Say Macleans Without Smiling!

a few days ago i woke up to pictures of colgate boxes on the television. something about contamination of colgate made in china and a recall. i vaguely registered something about checking our boxes at home to make sure that they were not made in china. my sleepy brain thought, hey colgate is my friend's favourite brand. i went to take a shower, brush my teeth and get ready for work - i work a couple of blocks away from chinatown.

then i got to work and noticed headlines about a ban on fish from china due to contamination. and though - fish stories? no wonder i'm bored.

lunchtime came around and we ordered sushi. it had been a while... it tasted really good.

by the time i got home i had woken up sufficiently to remember that a few months ago i had switched to colgate and i had just opened a new tube. the empty box was in my recycling. maybe my night could get interesting. my colgate might be made in china. i could have a right old mini-panic.

i checked the box 10 times. i know it was distributed by colgate in new york. i almost know the ingredients by heart. no clue where it was made. maybe information like that is only on boxes sent to news stations.

i'll just have to make sure i don't swallow the stuff.

Come Devil And Play

so yesterday at about noon i realised that i was bored. incredibly bored. not that i had nothing to do - oh no... desk full of work - but my brain had absolutely no interest in it all. and i still had six hours to go before i could go home.

at 12:30 i wasn't sure i could make it through the day. the boredom was beginning to hurt. my brain was bouncing up and down in my head asking - are we done yet? what can we do? i need distraction!

i tried to surf the net but where does a bored mind even think about going. i emailed a couple of friends - i'm bored. the response? sorry. or - don't you have work to do?

at about 2 i was convinced that i really could be bored to tears. the big headline on the beeb had to do with lockerbie but i had no drive to read the story. i checked the wimbledon scores, but it's just not like watching it, is it? i visited some blogs but was afraid to comment in case boredom is contagious.

did i mention that the office was freezing cold? and i was so bored i couldn't even get excited about the evils of air conditioning. i opened the window wide and a bunch of ozone rushed in and almost suffocated me. for half a second i wondered about the quality of new york city air. and i thought - hmmm... surely it must be better than air conditioned recylced new york city air. but bouncing brain said - today, we really don't care. when can we go home.

i called my roommate - in nigeria - and she asked. why are you bored? nothing interests me today and i don't know why. but i can't take the pressure anymore, kai! right now i'm so bored i could rob a bank.

knowing my deep fear of jail and issues with out in the open toilets where all and sundry can see and smell you do your business like you're potty training again - that is some mighty bored.

i miraculously made it through the day without stabbing myself in the eye and i went home.

bored. bored.... oooh apple pie and ice cream!

Where's The Rain Already?

today the united kingdom got a new prime minister. a new envoy for middle east affairs and some dude resigned. but all of that didn't matter.
you know why?
cos it was so humid you could drink water off my face.
apparently it makes me look like i'm glowing
the lack of mona lisa smile should tip folk off... nothing is making me smile today
instead i ponder on the dubious honour of faulkner being on oprah's book list...

Goodness!

how time flies, even when you are not necessarily having fun.

i have been feeling a tad under the weather and my blog has been neglected as a result. perhaps this tells me something about how well i take care of myself, period.

that said, while i was having my bad week (or two) it seems that it was kinda contagious... on a global level. while i have been wallowing in pain and/or self-pity all kinds of madness has been going on around the world. okay okay crazy has been the norm for a bit but get this:

apparently zimbabwe has 6 months to go before it implodes completely. i called my mother to warn her and to tell her to collect goods for the barter system that will be in place at that point. she laughed me off but i hope some little corner of her mind takes me seriously... just in case.

because i am learning that really, nothing is too preposterous to come true.

We Are The World, We Are The Children!

so last night i was watching tv and i saw a bunch of famous people looking fabulous and airbrushed, sitting around dramatically in a room. ellen degeneres said something about making an impact, doing something important - i think. then alicia keys blurbed about children. i usually skip the ads but this looks interesting. i pause.

because for the last few weeks i have been feeling like a bit of a waste. there is so much to do out there and i am stressing about how snug my trousers are - just in time for the summer - and how i still can't stop snacking on the mind boggling amount of chocolate in my little home. i am wondering what happened to the dreams of philanthropy i had a few years ago when i thought - to hell with rent, my life must mean something! what can i do?

yeah... then at some point i decided that shallow was easier to achieve than meaningful.

but recently, philanthropy is nagging... i think things like - you have aids orphan girl children (and probably other affected girls) who miss about a week of school a month because they cannot afford underwear to house any kind of makeshift sanitary pad when they are on their periods. i mean... who even thinks of that?

so back to commercial. i hear something about sending in ideas for a cause/project and american express funding it - up to five million dollars. FIVE MILLION DOLLARS! i know in the uk and europe that is like half of nothing these days but i'm excited. ideas bursting out my pores, i have so many...

all i have to do?

be a member.

No, Mom, You Can't Come

out in galesburg, illinois, students and parents signed a contract. not to reduce littering or to recycle more, but to make promise that parents would behave appropriately during their children's graduations. it seems in 2005 some parents came armed as though they were going to a football game - horns and goodness knows what else. the school had to put its foot down.

so this was the solution - if a student's family made too much noise (as determined by the principal) said student would not receive his/her diploma. apparently five families behaved badly. although some claimed that breachers of the contract were racially diverse, they must have been wrong because the five who did not receive a diploma were all black.

one student cried foul - i mean what if there are folk out there that don't like you so much, they could stand up and create a commotion. but we know that no one is that mean. the thought is preposterous.

but all is not lost. there is still a way for students from noisy families to get their diploma. a way to make up for your misbehavin' parents' "hooting and dancing". eight hours of community service. no, silly, not them; you.

or you could just ask them to skip it. promise to give them each a dvd of the ceremony and they can hoot and dance as much as they like... at home.

I Believe The Children Are Our Future

because i believe that being chirpy is so 10 years ago, i tuned in to anderson cooper for some light depression. apparently since september, the beginning of the school year, 28 school kids have been shot, stabbed or strangled. the head of the school district seems to believe that the reason why this has not really made the news is that the kids are poor inner-city children. the mayor seems to think it is not such a big deal because (a number he threw out) 80,000 are killed in america every year. it's just the way the country is. so there. mild depression.

now to a more pressing matter. i was reading an article that spoke of a man called cash $. question - if i decide to read the article out loud, as a bedtime story for the child of a neighbour, how do i pronounce cash $?

I Came Here To Party!!!

woo-hoo!! so there's this bill, right, and it has all kinds of stuff about iraq and funding that really has nothing to do with the american people but this is the piece de la resistance... the minimum wage is being raised! not since the days of ronald reagan has anything like this happened. the excitement is making me light-headed. i don't know if i can handle it. from $5.15 to $7.25. woo! like this, everyone is going to be driving around in a hummer and paying $4 for a gallon of gas without blinking an eye.

but wait a minute, they knew that the excitement would be overwhelming so they are not giving the increase all at once. oh man, can you imagine how crazy folk would go with that kind of money all at once? after having no increase since 1997? so first it will be 70 cents in 60 days. and then the remaining $1.40 over the next two years. ease these folk into wealth.

i mean the glass half empty people might say to you that the minimum wage is 30% lower, in real terms, than it was in 1979. yeah, those pessimists will add that the cost of living has gone up by 26% since 1997 and throw all kinds of depressing numbers your way. wet blankets!

but the glass half full people in congress who fight every year to give themselves raises tell us that this increase will ultimately raise the annual earnings of someone earning the minimum wage from $10,700 to a whopping $15,000. and that this increase of $4,300 will pay for 15 months of groceries for a family of three. oh man, people will really be swimming in money.

on my part i am saying, i don't need 15 months of groceries for a family of three. i am celebrating. trying to decide what colour my gas guzzling suv is going to be. and if you bump into me during the celebration, drinks are on me!

MWAH!!!

i must have been in my early teens or maybe late pre-teens... i used to go to watch movies with my girlfriends - no parents in sight. but this is how it worked. back then when i wished so hard that i was cool.



my father would walk me to the movie house. he would pay for my movie ticket - i suppose to make sure that the movie i wanted to watch was appropriate. i tell myself it is not that my father did not trust me... he just trusted no one around me??



he then gave me enough money for popcorn and a soda.

then he would ask the dude at the window what time the movie ended.



"enjoy the movie, my dear, i'll pick you up when it is over" he would boom. yes, my father was a boomer.


and then

even though i would duck my head

try to step back so i would be out of range

he would kiss me goodbye.



and not a kiss that a desperately trying to be cool could pretend no one noticed.

uh-uh. not my booming dad.

it was a kiss with sound effect "MWAH"

could be heard from across the street.

followed by a booming "see you later my dear."



yeah, i was never a cool teen.
i guess i got a lot of kisses though...

And A Half...

today i am 33 and a half. it hit me as i was walking from the train to the office. a thought least likely to give me an anuerism at 9am.

• because i can't process immigration reform where illegal aliens who are generally believed to be earning below minimum wage are expected to come up with $5,000 in fines (and i am not even sure if that is per person or per family). because if they have that kind of money just lying around, i need to reassess my pay.
• because i can't keep track of how many are dying every day in say iraq or darfur because i always come back to - ummm don't the people run out?
• because i can't even begin to think about how virgin testing of just girls in south africa is supposed to stop the spread of aids - apparently guys can totally be trusted. and shame on me for being skeptical, even before 9am.
• and once the patent runs out, they are probably going to market viagara as medication for jet lag. and somehow that makes sense to someone.

did i mention that i'm 33 and a half today? AND A HALF!!

I'm Gonna Shoo-oo-oo-oot... The Whole Day Down!

so yeah... after running the marathon i had to limp back home. i had it all planned - 6 am flight that would get me back in new york for 10:30 where i could catch a cab to work, collapse in my chair and get at least half a day's worth of work done and not really have to use my legs.

we woke up at 3:30, took showers and headed out to the airport. the plan was to be there at 5am - nice and early for the 6am flight. we were 15 minutes behind time but that is not so bad, right?

we didn't factor that flights start taking off a little before 6 but security at the airport only opened at about 5:15. so what happens is that everyone who is early, late or on time for a morning flight is standing in line. longest line in the world. rudest tsa agents you have ever seen. people are trying to tell them that they have flights and they don't care. so half our plane misses the flight. damn those other folk stretching out and taking up two seats at a time.

so boston and i get to our turn in the line to rebook us on the next flight out of dayton.

"nothing until tomorrow," the agent says.

i start freaking out a little. dayton airport doesn't even have a restaurant in it. and the chairs look uncomfortable. and i have a job to get back to. then she tells me that if i can drive over to columbus, she can book me on a flight there. of course i don't have a car but one can rent cars at dayton airport so i say - book me because i am NOT sleeping in dayton airport. so boston and i are booked on 11am flights in dayton and we go downstairs and book a car. i drive from dayton to columbus, all the while looking out for a place where we can get a bagel (we are craving them).

did i mention that we woke up at 3:30 am? and that our luggage made the flight, even though we didn't.

about an hour and a half later we have checked the car in at columbus airport and limped over to the check-in desk for the airline. the guy takes our information and says:

"when you miss a flight, you are not allowed to change cities when you rebook."

apparently he doesn't know that i have been up since 3:30 am, i am not a morning person, my leg muscles are not working and i have just driven from dayton. he looks up and i think he sees the madness.

"but since you have come all the way here, i can put you on standby for the 9:45 and the 11am flights. i can only get you definite seats on the 3:20 flight which will get you to new york by about 7pm."

at this point, as long as i am not sleeping in the airport, i think i'm good. there is a bagel place in the airport and we feed the craving. of course we don't get on the 9:45 but we remember that we passed a bar on our way over to the departure gate. the self-debate (is 10am too early for a cocktail?) lasts all of 10 seconds. i order my vodka with grapefruit juice (that is a breakfast drink, no?)

the 11am is full too. we get quesadillas and more drinks. we make friends who are passing through as they are actually confirmed on flights. more drinks. we are carrying our marathon bags so not much is needed as a conversation starter. we meet an architect on his way to new orleans. a woman who used to run marathons before her arthritis got too bad (she had vodka on the rocks - hard core). a businessman who bitches about how an airline lost his luggage for a week - he's still waiting to be reimbursed. we sit through 2 bartenders' shifts. finally 3pm rolls around.

the flight to detroit takes a little over 30 minutes.

you didn't think that i had been booked on a direct flight, did you? nope. now boston and i have to try to get on connections that will take us home. boston's flight is earlier than mine so we go over to her desk first. i dash to the bathroom and come back to find that boston is not happy. they have told her that she has to pay $25 to be put on STANDBY for the flight. she asks why and there is no reason but agent says she is not going anywhere until she pays $25. she wants to see the supervisor. i have to get to the other end of the airport and no running is happening today so i hobble off and head for my gate, all hope gone. i walk up to the agent:

"is this flight full?"

"completely." my shoulders sag in defeat. i am thinking i may have to start shopping for an apartment in detroit. "but what's your story."

i try to put my day into a nutshell and he is punching information into a computer.

"you were confirmed on the 11am flight and it was not late but you were not on it."

"well, the plane was full and so they put me on the next one."

"yes, i see that." another guy walks up and says, "can we put her in 4D?" (that's first class. i have been on that many flights in these last couple of days to know that.

"no, we have a premium passenger in that seat." i am thinking i may be bumped to the next flight and i am trying not to cry. and then, i swear, before i can even blink i have a boarding pass in hand, for a seat in an exit row (extra leg room).

"is that for me?" i look behind me to see if someone is standing behind me, but i am all alone. i take the pass before they change their minds and thank them several times.

i call boston, who is still pissed off and not on a flight. i tell her that people are nicer on this side of the airport and so she comes over and in two minutes she is on the 7pm flight out of detroit.

and me? an air stewardess on my flight has gone awol. flight is delayed for about an hour as they try to find her. we have to settle for a replacement. everyone is irritated. i am the only one smiling. i am not sleeping in an airport.

i get to new york at around 8pm (half afraid someone will tell me i am actually in atlanta and still have to take another flight to get home) and find my bag being kept company by the bags of those who are still, presumably, stuck in dayton.

mondays... why do i hate them again?

Warm Up

so two friday's ago, i had everything planned and mapped out. it would take a little over an hour on the subway to get to the airport and so if i left work 3 hours before the flight i would be better than good. in fact i would have time for a courage-boosting cocktail. i did have a four hour trip ahead of me.

so of course, i get caught up in meetings and leave the office after 3:30. so maybe no cocktails but i am still doing well for time. i head to the subway and get on the N train. one stop later there is one of those barely audible announcements. it seems the N train isn't going to queens so i need to switch to the R. damn! local train. so definitely no cocktails but what can i do. i still have time.

a couple of stops later - another announcements. train stalled, no trains on that line are going to queens at all. i get out with my bag. i am irritated but okay. i'll just take a cab because i cannot see any other way i'll get to the airport from this stop. i come out and stand on the street corner to hail a cab.

they are all off duty. or taken. or they stop to tell me "sorry, dear, i am off duty in 20 minutes, i can't take you to the airport". the sorry dear guys get on my worst nerves because they raise my hopes by stopping. i am too worked up to remember to take down their numbers to file complaints - cab drivers are not allowed to refuse to take you somewhere if they are on the clock, are they?

half an hour later. i am still trying to hail a cab. i have 60 minutes to go now before my flight. where did the time all go? i am freaking out now. calling my friend in ohio to say that i may not make it because i am stuck in manhattan. i am cursing new york city for all it's worth. i try the subway station again but the trains are STILL not running. i am hot and bothered and wondering how it can be so difficult to get a damn ride.

55 minutes before the flight, all hope gone, a stretch limo pulls up next to me and the driver (the only person in the car) asks me where i'm going.
laguardia airport.
get in, he says.
how much? i know i shouldn't get in but i'm desperate and i have a plane to catch.
$40.
like i would have tried to bargain him down.
i jump in and call a friend to loudly reel off all the details of the car (i tell myself that this will save me if the driver has evil ulterior motives)

what a SLOW ride. i am trying to be calm. traffice sucks. i am trying not to shout at the driver.

as soon as we hit the airport - i am quickly running out of time. it is too late to check my luggage and now i have to hit security.

my bag is FULL of liquids. and they are not in a clear ziploc bag and they are way too big to be allowed anyway. and so security pulls me aside. i try to put things in a bag. i am hopping from one foot to another. a fellow passenger is complaining on my behalf - oh those bottles look expensive, women must lose so much money going through security. security takes my shower gel, my special sunscreen and my toothpaste. i am very sad about the sunscreen. but i have ten minutes to catch my flight.

complaining guy invites me to join him at the bar. i thank him for complaining on my behalf but, sadly i have to run for a plane. and i am off. i am the last person there. the gate is about to close. i have overheated.

and then the flight sits on the runway. for an hour. all this time i had been running, i had needed to pee but i thought - well as soon as the plane takes off, i'll go. but we sit on the runway. for an hour. and we are not allowed to leave our seats, in case we get clearance to take off.

when we get to detroit i need to transfer. when i booked my flight i had over an hour between flights. but remember, i sat on the runway in new york for that hour. the flight attendant asks folk to be kind enough to let those of us who have transfers off the plane first but, of course, as soon as the plane touches down and the seatbelt light goes off, everyone stands up and clogs up the aisle. someone offers to lift me up and pass me over everyone. but i gracefully decline the kind offer. i don't quite trust the folk in the front, clogging up the aisle. so i jump up and down until i can get off and start running.

of course my gate is on the OTHER end of the airport. and i run. up escalators, along those moving pathways they have in super long hallways, past the bar with the cocktails. i am the third to last person on the plane. the other two were also on my flight. i get onto the smallest plane i have ever been on.

thank goodness the flight is short.

i get to dayton ohio at almost 11pm. my friends pick me up an hour later (they were drinking margaritas and lost track of time). my head hurts and i am frighteningly foul. but there's a margarita waiting for me at home to make it a semi distant memory.

i am still kinda sorta hating new york, especially its cabbies. SORRY!

2:13:53

my goal was 2 hours 30 minutes. i didn't believe it but i threw it out there. the night before at a roaring party, i clutched my water and gazed at the bucket full of stronger stuff. to cheer ourselves up, three of us shared one smirnoff ice.

we got up at 4:30 and were out of the house a little after 5 to head out to the start line. we were almost late because it was hell finding a bathroom but we persevered - have you ever been inside a porta-potty? there were four of us - from new york, boston, atlanta and cincinnati. we group hugged, planned to meet next to the fence and the finish line and the gun went off. it took two miles to feel slightly warmed up and remember that i had forgotten the inhaler and the hydrocort cream. but i had taken an antihistamine (lots of grass in cincinnati had me drugged up all weekend) so i was rolling. cincinnati (the veteran) was running with me and so it was good. except for the inclines we were running up. did i mention that we ran through kentucky for a while? and then back into ohio. wicked awesome!

after about 5 miles, i am finally feeling warmed up and plodding along and a bend was coming up. a woman ahead of us (i was still running with cincinnati - boston had fallen behind and the start and atlanta we lost half a mile later) shouts out, are you ready for the hills? hills? so what were the last 5 miles? well, round the corner i found out that the first 5 miles were nothing more than soft bumps in the ground. now we had hills. i am hydrating regularly, cos my mouth is getting dry (partly due to thoughts of all those miles still ahead) and then suddenly i need to pee.

by mile 8 i mention this to cincinnati and her response? suppress it.

so at mile 8 - thoughts on my mind - my knees don't feel so good i hope they last til mile 10 then i can run/walk the last three; i need to pee; why are these hills only going up?

at about mile 8.5, cincinnati says her legs are fatigued - go ahead, i'll catch up, she says. i carry on because she has done this like 5 times already. i keep on small-stepping up the hill. at mile 9 i hydrate and look around but cincinnati is nowhere in sight. so i carry on and a few minutes later, hallelujah! downhill!!! i pick up my pace and suddenly the music on the ipod actually sounds good.

so now i am floating along, thinking to myself, oh this is so doable. i could run like this forever. knee still a little wobbly but i think it can hold out a little more. i'll run it til it breaks me down. i am saying thank you to the supporters on the side of the road who are telling me that i'm looking good. i notice a woman is running in step with me and decide to try hang with her as long as possible - her pace is good. after about half a mile she says to me - you're helping me keep pace. i say - no! you're doing that for me. and we agree that it is all good and carry on perfectly in step. downhill.

i woo hoo! at mile 10. double digits. i am almost there and still keeping up with stranger at my side. i could do a marathon, i am thinking. my lungs feel great, my legs are holding up.

at mile 12 i have changed my mind and am so ready for the finish line. but it is coming. i see a sign.

mile 1

what the hell?! no, it must be a typo. or maybe it is trying to say that i have .1 of a mile left to go and i just can't see the decimal point. am i crazy delirious with fatigue? (boston later tells me that she stopped running when she saw that sign and just wanted to sit down and cry). what is going on? but pace stranger is picking up the pace. she must know what's really going on so i pick up my pace to keep up with her. we round a corner. another sign.

mile 26

oh this is not working. i want to kill someone. i can't keep this up much longer. when is this going to end and why are they playing such cruel games? another bend in the road... another sign.

13 miles

i doubt i have ever been happier. 0.1 miles to go. and there. i see it. finish line. i can do it. and i do. i pump my arms up as i cross the line, like i am some kind of olympian.

as soon as i stop running, i want to collapse. legs like jello but i have to keep on moving. tummy hurts but apparently i have to eat something. don't need to pee anymore though. i guess where is the finish line helps suppress all else.

Keeping You Occupied

so, due to my parents' nomadic lifestyle in my youth, i went to 4 different schools in about 2 years. school number 3 was in gweru, zimbabwe and i was in the second grade. apparently birds are very popular in gweru because we studied them at school and my grandfather had a book on them and they taught me so hard there are things stuck in my head forever.
the grey lourie - aka the go away bird - which warns when disturbed something that sounds like "Go Away". whenever i heard it, i used to look around for potential hunters - yes, even in the suburbs...
the coo of the doves that used to wake me up every morning. the way i wanted to stone them on some cold, indecently-early winter mornings.
and the weaver birds, that had a thing for the palm trees at my grandma's house (yes palm trees. i think whoever founded that city got palm tree seeds on discount)
for about a year after that, i used to go on nature walks and try to identify the birds and their calls and see if i could tell the difference between the males and the females. didn't work out so well. apparently i don't walk so quietly and somehow that affects one's ability to see birds.

eons later i am back at my grandma's and, yeah, the weavers still love her palms...

Until I Run New York...

alright folks, sunday i'll be in cincinnati attempting to run my second half marathon. yeah, i know it's not a marathon... yet, but its still 13.1 miles. a little over 21km. a bloody long run, whether you are metric or not. and this morning as i laboured through my 5km run, i had ample time to ruminate over the still unanswered question. why the heck am i doing this i want to run a marathon thing? possible answers:

1. i am teaching my knees a lesson. they thought they were clever giving out on me during my basketball days, but i'll show them clever!
2. i believe that the running will strengthen my knees. the old adage is what doesn't kill you makes you stronger so... yeah, they'll die or get stronger as i pound them against pavement, tarmac or beaten dirt path.
3. i love trying to figure out what i have forgotten to do when 3 long blocks away from my house - sunscreen? asthma inhaler? hydrocortisone for the hives?
4. i dream of being that person that overtakes me just when i think i have hit a pretty good pace. well usually i dream of tripping up that person but i am sure i want to be him/her underneath it all.
5. i want to find out if the horror stories are true - will i really lose a toenail or two during a particularly long run? will my feet bleed from the friction?
6. is there such a thing as a runner's high and if i am on it will i not feel the pain of bleeding or lost extremities?
7. this is like therapy - after the run all tension, anger and stress will have melted from my body.
8. the medals make me feel like i am at the olympics.
9. what better way to see new cities than limping and dehydrated?
10. i live for the day where they take a post race photo that i can actually share proudly with the world

i figured it was easier to spend my time psyching myself up for the long trek up the stairs in my building. flying pig.... here i come!