Acromyical

There's been a flurry of activity around school these day, all because of the upcoming visit by PAIS. You can tell by the capitals that pais isn't a real word, though it is a kind of grape they make wine with in Chile. It's an acronym, one of those omnipresent abbreviations that grace us with their brevity and meaning.

PAIS stands for the Pennsylvania Association of Independent Schools, approximately 1/50 of NAIS, which I won't bother to write out. It's a group that the schools created to help them manage themselves. It wouldn't do for just anyone to open an independent school, call it, say Fantastic Refuge for Amassing Nocturnal Knowledge, and start charging people tuition to come to FRANK the same way our school does, without anyone having any idea whether FRANK has any idea what he's, I'm sorry, it's doing. What PAIS does, is visit schools like FRANK and determine if they're OK (an acronym created during the great satyrical abbreviation fad of the mid 19th century, centered in Boston of all places, which reveled in weird misspellings- OK was short for oll korrect, and supplanted the previously popular, OW, or oll wright. People find this derivation hard to accept and look for other derivations, including the noted Haitian rum-smuggling port, Aux Cayes).

There's an element of mutual, let us say, congratulation about all of this. "Hey, we all come from schools the are OK, and we're here to say that you are OK too as long as you pay your dues." What it amounts to in reality is a lot of self, let us say, reflection prompted by hundreds of questions about what the people in the school community think about what the school is, how well it works, and what are it's plans to make it the bestest possible school. Once you've reflected yourself enough to output 200 pages or so of, let us say, output, you present it to PAIS, after which they come and see if you're telling the truth or a fib (though not a FIB, which is what people from Wisconsin call people from Illinois- the other two letters are for words I don't usually spell out in this space but speak on a fairly regular basis).

Then, for the few weeks before the PAIS-people visit, everybody scrambles around the fix everything that's been unsafe, improper, or simply not nice looking since the last time they visited (normally 5 or 10 years). In our office, that means finally making an actual doorway out of a hole in the wall that was knocked open over the summer to allow people to walk between offices without having to go out into the hallway. The visit is Monday and this job was completed, yes, today. Hopefully the paint smell will have dissipated by then. Other arrangements included getting clocks for the rooms that lacked them, such as the gymnasium, where one can keep track of how many seconds are left in a game, but not how long before you must  leave so you can get home to watch the Downton Abbey that you forgot to DVR.

At my daughter's school, it meant tearing down all the signs that people had posted about lost or stolen property, among other things. You get the idea, pretty up the place for the visitors. And after all this, it looks like Monday's visit will be delayed by a snowstorm. What a SNAFU!

First world problems

We're back in the state of having more cars than drivers. This has happened because we gave a car to one of my kids as a present, not because we were so keen on her having a car, but because we wanted her to drive herself and her sister to school so that we wouldn't have to. She loves the car, but of course she doesn't live here or anyplace else where a car is even slightly practical.

The other extra car had been mine and was used by my other kid during her senior year. She beat it up pretty bad, as is the norm, though it still runs great and it's still my favorite car that I ever had. She is also living in a place where you'd have to be insane to have a car.

My wife has her own car. This leaves me in the position of having 2 cars, neither of which is really mine, and primarily driving one that is 7 years old and pretty seriously dented. I don't like this state of affairs, but I'm left in one of those stupid adult positions where I can't just do what I want. I don't want to drive that car anymore, but I also don't want to get anything too nice because it needs to be driveable by one of my kids whenever they might be home.

I've spent enough of my life triangulating what everyone around me needs that I just don't feel like doing it now, so I have to go for the best car I can come up with where I wouldn't be terrified if I had to let someone else drive it. So how nice is that? Argh! More triangulation!

So used, right? Newer, but not new. Comfy but not luxe, able to withstand having a post-adolescent toss an open bag of gummy worms on the floor and small enough that a kid can park it without interacting with any of the surrounding cars or other obstacles. Reasonable gas mileage, but I don't drive very much- maybe 10,000 miles in a year, so it doesn't have to be a hybrid, though I've had hybrids for the last 10 years and like them.

Okay, enough whining. What's for dinner?

Potholemania

There are always potholes this time of year, but this year everyone seems to be talking about them. I'm confident I could go to a party and by circulating strategically, talk about nothing else for well over an hour. I decided to dig into this deeper, as they say, and here's what I came up with.

Getting there is half the fun

I was reading a story in the newspaper about the proposed link up between I-95 and the Pennsylvania Turnpike. This is been the subject that discussed since I first came to Philadelphia in the 1980s. 

Actually, when I first got here in the fall of 1979, I read an article in the Philadelphia Inquirer which was a somewhat facetious discussion of I-95 which was in the process of being built in Philadelphia at that time. I only remember the first question in there which is "What is I-95?" And the answer was, "I-95 is a road that runs from Maine to Girard Avenue and from Philadelphia Airport to Florida." Which was a completely accurate description, by the way. 

And I also remember reading somewhere else that there was some deception on the part of New Jersey that fooled Pennsylvania into thinking there was a way to connect the Pennsylvania's part of I-95 with the New Jersey Turnpike directly. Here's a link to a carefully worded account that gives the general idea, as well as an explanation of why the part of 95 from Girard to PHL took so long to complete.

So in this context, I see this article about connecting 95 and the Pennsylvania Turnpike with great interest. They say they're going to start building it soon, which is great for people drive by and maybe not so good for those who live in that general vicinity. But halfway through the article comes the money shot, so to speak. How was this project being funded? The money is coming from a program by which rich foreigners are given green cards for themselves and their families in exchange for agreeing to lend money at an advantageous rate to the state . Yes, I know. This sounds like a bad movie plot. We seen this stuff lots of times, people pretending to be married and such in order to get green cards. Finally, there's a legit way to go about it. As long as you're rich and powerful.

Apparently, this is not a brand-new idea. It's been done before. I'm not sure about the politics of it all, but on one hand it's also the perfect Republican idea, because it gives some great advantage to wealthy people. And what seems to be Republicans' , aside from controlling women's bodies, is to further advantage rich people. On the other hand, putting in a road that everybody can use by having rich people pay for it, seems like a pretty progressive idea. I don't know why nobody's complaining about redistribution of wealth. 

The sense I got from the article is that the developers of this idea are extremely pleased with themselves for coming up with it. I would be too if I were them. The law allowing such things was passed back in 1990, and it was suggested to the Turnpike people by one of their board members, a Bucks country restauranteur and beer distributor by the name of, and I quote, Pasquale T. "Pat" Deon Sr. Makes me wish I had a nickname that could put in quotes in the middle of my name.

Here goes nothing

Not sure what to expect exactly, but I'm about to see a dance performance that was reported to be a mix between dance, acrobatics and Chippendales. How did that happen to me?  Marriage, that's how. 

Huh?

Does anybody have any idea of what day it is, where we are and what's going on? I know I don't. I know that I have taught a whopping 6 classes so far this week and I think tomorrow is Friday already. Students were asking me whether we could delay a test and my reply was something to the effect that I couldn't be sure that there would be school on the day I delayed it to, so no.

It's even more complicated than that. One of my classes all have to be at school until 9 tonight to find out that they're expected to go to college after this year. I could have told them that. Oh, and that they'll have to apply to get in. Yeah, that too.

On Monday, the students are all taking the afternoon off to go watch a couple of "friendly" basketball games at the Wells Fargo Center. These games are important and engrossing enough enough that the kids will be rendered unable to study that night, so there cannot be any tests on Tuesday. So if I delayed the test it would be until Wednesday at the very earliest. Current forecast for Wednesday? Snow, of course.

I think things were melting today, but it's hard to tell because all the water from the melting snow still hasn't filled up all the potholes. And yes, I feel like I'm writing a comedy monologue when I think of lines like that.

ADLs (no defamation given or implied)

Some of you have probably heard or seen me mention that I’m in the midst of a bout of physical therapy, first for my right shoulder and then for an area inside my left shoulder blade that has been intermittently troublesome since I injured it 20-something years ago.

For those of you unfamiliar with this kind of thing, physical therapy breaks down into two basic components. First, there are anywhere from 1-3 sessions per week with a therapist. These vary, depending on the injury and the PT shop, but the place I go does manual therapy, where, the PT stretches, pushes, pulls, massages, whatever connecting anatomies, be they muscles, ligaments, tendons, bands or things I don’t know the words for, while pushing the skeleton into whatever position it’s supposed to be in order for everything to move around freely.

In my case, it turned out that the pain I was having in the two places was related. Essentially, every part of my back, from waist to neck, was way too tight, and it was pulling things out of their proper position and making even routine motions painful. It was pulling my shoulder capsule out of alignment, irritating the tendon that runs down my arm, the infamous bicep tendon- yes, I had the same problem as Cole Hamels. On the other side, it was pulling on this old injury, irritating everything around the scar tissue. But if it hadn’t been for that I’m quite sure I would have felt it in my other shoulder as well.

So they stretch all that stuff and shove things into place, and that’s 20 minutes a shot. The rest, and here’s the hard part, is up to me. Because my stuff is so widespread and my problems are “bilateral,” I have a series of stretches and exercises that I’m supposed to so every day, which grows with every session. The stretches are 30-60 seconds.

Here’s the list-
1.     Sleeper stretch- arm straight out at shoulder, elbow bent 90 degrees, push one arm down with the other
2.     Sleeper – arm raised 30 degrees
3.     Sleeper – arm down 30 degrees
4.     Foam roller on spine, roll side to side slowly for 3 minutes
5.     Roller parallel to shoulders- stretch back and over in 3 different position
6.     Roller on spine, hands behind head, let elbows drop
7.     10 pound weights in each hand, arms straight up, lift with shoulders only, 2x20 reps
8.     On knees with check on physio ball and arms to side. Raise and lower slowly 20 times with thumbs down
9.     Palms down
10. Thumbs up
11. Stretch arms out straight at shoulder height with resistance band
12. Internal rotation with resistance, both arms 20 each
13. External rotation with resistance, both arms 20 each
14. 30 Rows
15. Holding resistance band out in front, pull arm down to side 20 times
16. 10 chair push-ups, 10 regular push-ups
17. Sit on counter, grab edge and lean away for 60 seconds
18. Arms behind back, shoulders back and chin tucked in, pull down and hold for 60 seconds.
19. Shirt or towel looped over shoulder and behind back- pull down on shoulder for 60 seconds

I think that’s it. Every day since November. Honestly, I only do the stretches every single day, so that’s about half the list. The exercises get skipped if I’m sore (like after shoveling snow, not that that comes up more than 2-3 times a week).

But you know what? I just made it through two 5-hour plane flights without pain. That would have been excruciating 6 weeks ago. I can almost get back to my Activities of Daily Living

The rest of our day in Scottsdale

The rest of the day was spent the way Satan intended people to spend days in a green patch in the outer circle of hell. We sat by the pool. Ronnie was enjoying the new book and I was working my way through my physics-based philosophical discussion as to the nature and existence of reality. I guess that's not stated in the correct order but based on everything I read in the book, that shouldn't matter.

The book, Trespassing On Einstein's Lawn, which was written by the daughter of one of my colleagues and friends, is kind of brilliant. That I know a little bit about her and her parents makes it more interesting for me, but it's not a requirement for reading the book, nor is an understanding of quantum physics. The central question is, what is nothing? What is the fundamental nature of reality? That quickly turns into narrower questions, though only slightly narrower, such as is anything real?

It's also memoir of a young woman finding a path for herself and the story of her relationship with her father. It took me a long time to read, because I was actually trying to understand all the physics. But it's an enjoyable read even if you don't care to try.

The weather was absolutely beautiful. Sunny and dry and in the low 80s. This is a very bad thing this area. It's supposed to be rainy season and they've been in the middle of a very long drought that's going to make the summer absolutely miserable. Everybody around here should be hoarding water now. I'm serious. Dig a cistern and fill it. I offered to contribute the contents currently frozen of my backyard but nobody seemed interested.

Eventually, it was time for the evening party. We had the service in the morning, then our time to relax, and then it was time to party, or rather to watch a large group of 13-year-olds party. This kind of party requires the one he did remains of dozens of prehistoric creatures to create all of the plastic crap given away during these events. B'nai Mitzvah parties have turned into kind of a bailout for manufacturers of plastic things that are loosely referred to as novelties, though their novelty has mostly worn off. This one was no exception. Glasses, inflatable shoes and musical instrument, glowsticks, flashing ice cubes, hats, sunglasses, even flashing mouthguards, if you can believe that.

This was one of those parties run by a DJ and an MC. She was incredibly energetic and made all reasonable efforts to get everybody up and dancing. Her success in this endeavor decreased this evening went on and people got tired, but she never gave up trying. Here's the order of events:

First you find your table. This is keyed in this particular case by Broadway show. We were at the Annie table, which was populated by old family friends. A nice group.

Then the family of the bat mitzvah girl enters to prompted applause and great fanfare. The family then repaid our adoration by performing a short song and dance number for us. It was very cute.

Then comes the candlelighting, where the girls thanks all the people who helped her get to where she is today. This somehow included us, though our contribution to the event was mostly just showing up from far away. That was fine, she's a nice girl, she's been in our house and we're very fond of the family. That's what makes these things worthwhile, if anything does. This was followed by a rousing Hava Negila and the requisite listing of the chairs.

We actually had a little bit of real conversation with our hosts, who were sitting at our table. These are friends who moved to Arizona 20 years ago and we rarely see them and we all noticed that we were really happy to see each other. Things like this tend to happen in our stage of life. You see someone for a big occasion, determine if you're frustrated that you couldn't spend more time with them or happy that you didn't spend more time with them. If it's the former you try to make arrangements to see them again. Sometimes works out but sometimes does not. We are currently in the stage of hoping that it will work out.

So after the grand introduction and candlelighting, there are some prayers and then we started to eat. There was a sit-down dinner for adults and a buffet for the kids. I presume the food was different, but since out main course was breaded, possibly fried chicken breast pieces, it's quite possible the kids got that as well, but I'm sure they did not get scalloped potatoes and steamed carrots with theirs. I believe they also got pizza and waffle fries and cotton candy.

The rest of the evening was spent with activities for the kids and adults if they cared to join in which for the most part they did not. There was something called Coke and Pepsi which I've never understood, although I'm used to seeing it played such that people were eliminated and there's a winner. This time, as far as I could tell no one was limited and so everybody was rewarded with some additional plastic crap.

 I just should note, that because it's so flat here for the most part, that you forget that your altitude. We got out of breath fairly quickly dancing, but it didn't occur to me until this morning but that was why. Anyway, we watched the group play balloon volleyball which pretty much just meant to people holding a net and children and adults batting balloons back-and-forth to each other while the DJ kept yelling "too many balloons on the floor!"

 And that ended our evening. We went to bed knowing that we be headed home in the morning.

How dry is it?

So we finally got into Phoenix with our plane full of standbyers at around 5 o'clock. We noticed it was warm as soon as the plane had stopped at the gate, but we didn't worry about it because you know, it's a dry heat.

We then made our way through the pleasant but absolutely huge Phoenix airport. I have some not wonderful memories of that airport, and I tried not to dwell on it but it was hard to eliminate the sinking feeling in my stomach. I was glad when we got into the rental car. It's an easy ride from the airport and though we got kind of warm walking the mile and getting the bus to the rental car center, we didn't really sweat because, you know, it's a dry heat. That said, it's a dry everything around here until you get to Scottsdale. Then suddenly you see patches of green. What might these be? Golf courses, of course (this one complete with moon-set at 7:30 AM).

  

I did a couple of videos two years ago why walked around Tempe, another suburb of Phoenix, where I concluded after walking around for a while that this is hell. Based on my walk this morning, I will stand by that characterization. I just want to add, that it had to be one of the inner circles of Hell. Scottsdale is the part of held for white-collar crime. There are nice landscape features and upscale shops and green spots. But it's still flat, everything looks the same, and it's just one of the outer circles of Hell.

The evening service was, as are all the services at this shul, a reform service. This meant it was led by a woman playing the guitar singing high notes who very much enjoyed the sound of her voice. She sang a lot of words very fast and she sang loud. It is like a speed reading service.

I knew I didn't like her because the first thing she said when she stop singing the first song, was that she wanted to know if people were too cold. About half the people said yes and so since she herself was cold, she went and turned the heat up, unconcerned with those of us who were either warm or comfortable. I was not in anyway shape or form cold, nor was Ronnie, so we put up with the increased heat. It was okay, because you know, it's a dry heat.

The rabbi at them service was reasonably funny, perhaps 30% as funny as he thought he was. He started out by saying he'd been on a trip all week and haven't had a chance to prepare the Torah reading and therefore, was there anyone in the congregation who could fill in for him? And of course it was the bat mitzvah girl. Very very cute. After the passage from the Torah he mentioned the golden calf, as part of the translation. He said wow there's a lot to say about this, but we're just out of time will have to continue this tomorrow morning at 10:30. Can any of you make it?

Is a funny thing was talking (I'm sorry I have to be quiet now because I'm about to pass a person holding a sign. She was actually quite busy texting. That was actually really weird, because I saw a sign by the side of the road and then noticed instead of posting had two legs. And then I realize it was somebody there holding the sign I saw a hand on top and could tell somebody was holding the sign. She was just leaning up against the lampposts, texting away and holding a sign with her other hand).

The other funny thing, was his discussion was about whether it was okay to celebrate Valentine's Day as a Jew. He went through the scriptural requirements for celebrating a non-Jewish religious holiday and it seems like Valentine's Day met those requirements (the criteria is mostly that the holiday's secular practice is in harmony with Jewish precepts). He also noted that there was a Jewish equivalent whose name I forget that's in August. He concluded that saying as Jews let's declare February 15 to be Valenstein's Day celebrated by 50% off candy at all stores.

Getting out of town

Now I’m annoyed because I didn’t take a picture of my knees at Madison Square Garden. I’m now on an airplane and am pleased to report that there is noticeably more legroom in a US Airways coach seat than there is in Section 117, Row 16, but have no way of presenting photographic evidence.

We’re on our way to a Bat Mitzvah in Scottsdale, AZ. I’ve spent way more time in Phoenix in the past few years than would have been my preference, but Scottsdale isn’t one of the more objectionable areas, and I’m hopeful that the Scottsdale Resort and Conference Center will prove to be more posh than the Best Western Tempe by the Mall (yes, that’s its actual name).

That we’re on our way is a minor surprise, given the recent weather, but it was bright and shiny this morning, our driveway had been plowed, with no lack of sound effects, at 4 AM, and the only issue facing the flight were the hundreds of hopeful standby’s waiting to snap up any empty seats.

The biggest news on the flight was a short line of small print on my boarding pass, revealing that I had TSA-Precheck status, which allows me and my traveling party to avoid the security line and go though an old-fashioned metal detector with, gasp, my shoes on. I didn’t even need to take out my computer or completely empty every used tissue from my pockets (not that I usually have lots of used tissues in my pockets, but you know what I mean). This is the first time I’ve seen that on my boarding pass, and I guess it’s not like the government is going to send you a registered letter congratulating you, but it was surprising.

The flight itself was typical of what happens after weather events, as they say, in that they load all the passengers with reserved seats, then they look at their seat map and start putting standby’s in the unused seats. This takes a few minutes, after which they cease to trust the seat map and send someone to count the number of people on the plane and look for empty seats.

By this time, people are desperately looking for someplace to put their carryon bags. On a full flight, overhead room is at a premium, the bins fill before the seats, and the people going back beyond their seats to find space create a backwash that stymies the boarding process.  As is the custom these days, I brought food on the plane with me, as well as coffee, which creates an eventual need to rid myself of said items. I employed the international sign for “Can you take this away please?” to no avail, and had to hang onto it wall until an hour and a half into the flight.

The woman sitting next to us on the flight was busy writing on the one of the liquidproof sealable sacks discreetly tucked into the seat pocket. I looked over at her and she said "Writing a bridesmaid speech." I said, "That seems an appropriate to do it that way." It also gave me the opportunity to ask a question I can say with absolute certainty that I've never asked for that being "Are you done with your speech or would you like another barf bag?"

To the dogs

Once we arrived that the dog show, we headed immediately to the benching area, where the dogs, groomers and handlers hang out. Some of the dogs are out and available for petting and the groomers and handlers who aren't busy are usually happy to chat about how wonderful their dog is and what a good breed it is. It would be difficult to get any of these people to say anything even slightly critical about them- the worst we've heard is "not a good first dog," describing the PBGV, which isn't known as being easily  trained.

You can get a little more information from the PA announcer who introduces each breed. He never says anything bad, but while he'll say a beagle "is great with children," if he says "with early training and socialization, the Sheba Inu can make an excellent companion" you should see red flags waving everywhere. Other little clues might be "will have you trained in no time" or "requires an owner at least as smart as he is."

The show itself was fun- lots of cute dogs. The crowd is very polite and cheers for their favorite dogs- everyone seems to have a special fondness for dogs that act up, act like regular dogs really. Barking, jumping, sneaking off to get stray treats dropped by other handlers- that all gets the crowd going. The only time the crowd seemed hostile was when the standard poodle, who was definitely not one of the arena favorites, won its group. You could almost feel a vibe in the room- is it okay to boo at a dog show? Probably not. I think the way the audience should show disapproval is to howl. Wouldn't that be fun?

The show was over at 10:55 leaving us plenty of time to go down 4 escalators to our 11:15 train. As we turned to leave, I noticed that the very pleasant people who'd been sitting next to us (we'd commiserated over the peculiar lack of knee room in our row- I'm only 5'8" and my knees were right up against the seats in front of us) had left their camera. I grabbed it, saw from its luggage tag (good move, Bob!) that the owners were from Kentucky, so rather than give it to the lost and found I decided to bring it with and ship it to them.

We got down to the train in plenty of time and I texted the owner to tell him my plans. Then I went to the bathroom and midstream, get a call asking if I could please bring it to his hotel. Sorry, I said, I'm on a train. We had a pleasant texting conversation where we debated whether I should courier it to NY and ultimately I shipped it to him at home.

Got home at around 1 AM, but it was a fun day.

Dogging it

On our way to New York to see the Westminster Kennel Club dog show at the modestly titled Most Famous Arena in the World, Madison Square Garden. I'll try not to make too many jokes about how Knicks fans already get to see a collection of expensive dogs regularly, but I had to mention it at least once. 

We just got back from New York, Brooklyn to be exact, last night, but since the dog show is literally upstairs from Penn Station, it seemed worth a trip. We were in Brooklyn for my friend's 60th birthday party, an idea that seemed mostly to alarm him. But he enjoyed the company, as did I, although the preponderance of lawyers present was unsettling and made it difficult to find fresh topics of discussion. And what sort of law do you practice? It often seems to me that attorneys in general are less enthusiastic about their work than the general populace. Or maybe they feel guilty being attorneys or don't want to gloat.

While there I got to visit my old neighborhood, Park Slope. It's a nice neighborhood and the houses are pretty if not extremely livable. If you haven't seen these things, they are tall and narrow, with big rectangular rooms and lots of stairs. I can see the attraction but I don't want one.

I still haven't gone by the house where I lived ages 2-7. It's not far from there. I have some vague memories of the neighborhood that would be nice to revive. 

The dog show is an old favorite for me and my wife. We used to go regularly when we lived in new York and always watch on tv. The dogs are really cute and some of the people that come packaged with them are genuinely odd (I'm guessing that almost all of them are odd but some are better at making themselves appear socially acceptable than others). People stand up and cheer for little animals running around the floor of the Most Famous Arena and form opinions on who should win from 100 feet away, just as us Olympics fans watch Slopestyle for 3 minutes and then find ourselves yelling at the tv, "how did he only get 84.5!!?? He deserves at least an 87!!!"

I'll update this with photos on the way home.

(n-58)

In trying to get back on the blogging train, perhaps the biggest challenge is getting myself to stop and write when I have something I want to say in my head. This is not easily done. I'm not much of a sit still, do nothing kind of person, and I very easily shift from activity to activity without pausing. Like these past 35 minutes:

1. Decide to go pick up my dry cleaning
2. Go to the supermarket too
3. Drive
4. Oooh! Girl Scout Cookies!
5. Buy Girl Scout cookies (always)
6. Get milk 
7. oooh! Fage yogurt $1 Buy 4
8. Buy licorice
9. Car is messy and going for  along drive later, start picking stuff up and bagging for disposal
10. Pick up dry cleaning
11. Get home, continue cleaning out car
12. Get inside, put milk and yogurt in fridge
13. Put oatmeal bowl in sink. Put oatmeal pot in sink
14. Put newspaper on table next to wife's cereal bowl
15. Recycle ad sections from paper.

Okay, not too bad, but between 10 and 11, I had a thought about something I wanted to write, and between 12 and 13 remembered 3, no more like 6 different things I needed to do. In recent times, I'd moved directly to those things, but today I'm going to write for a moment, at least.

One of the big things that's been ongoing for me in the past year is my developing a relationship with my brother. We have simply not been close. I've thought for a long time that he's pretty much the only person in the world who can make me truly uncomfortable. That used to keep me away, but I've begun to learn the value of it.

I get comfortable very quickly and easily. I'm extremely, and I mean the word extreme here, adaptable. I can settle in almost anywhere and be content. This is nice on one level, but it's my enemy if I want to make the most of the (n-58) years I have left to live. So I see my brother as key because of his ability to push me out of my comfort zone. And with him its usually in the name of something fun.

So he's dealing with some life stuff, and I want to be there for him, but I realize that I really have almost no experience being a brother to him in the usual sense. We've always been very separate- we get along fine, but we're separate. In the past, I'd just say, okay, that's the way it is, but for some reason these past couple of days I'm trying to push through this. And I'm wondering if he thinks it's weird that I'm suddenly interested in doing this, but I'm trying not to care.

So by the end of the weekend I'll have a better idea of how that turns out. Okay, I've got those 6 things to do, plus a couple more I thought about since.

Blogging, what's blogging?

There's no way to dress this up. I've fallen off the blogging wagon. Time to suck it up and get on with it.

Starting small, how about that weather? I've barely been able to spend any time outdoors, except to try to rescue plants from the snow and ice.

I went for a walk last weekend, whenever that was (3 snow days in a week will disorient you somewhat). Even though I like listening to music, I usually don't do so while I'm walking, because I want to hear ambient sounds. It's all part of that living in the moment crap they talk about. It's okay, because I find my brain seeking out different types of stimulation than it might if I had "Roar" blasting in my ears. (Just a quick question on that- has there been a more dull, boring, clichéd song in the past year? I can't think of one).

So I look at houses, and lawns and driveways and signs and one of the signs says "WATCH CHILDREN." And it has silhouettes of children on the sign, in case you don't know what children are or need a two-dimensional representation to remind you of their general shape. And I think that sign is meant for drivers because it's next to the road, but that confuses me. Aren't you supposed to be watching the road when you're driving? What if the children are on the lawn or the porch or visible through a window inside? Am I still supposed to watch them? It's both creepy and wrong.

This is yet another symptom of the culture that gives you page-long warnings and cautions when you buy a DVD player. Do I really need a sign to remind me not to run over the children? Isn't that implied? It's like the signs at some intersections that say "WAIT FOR GREEN." I know why those signs are there, but aren't you always supposed to wait for green?

Okay, I'll stop now so I can publish something. But I've got lots going on and will try to stay current.