"Shalom y'all"

A few weeks back, Leah asked if I'd be interested in joining her at a the Calgary Jewish Film Festival. I said sure and today Leah, Dave and I went to see a movie called Shalom Y'all. It's about being a Jew in the Deep South of the U.S. It was both funny and enlightening.

Afterwards we had a good conversation about the movie, and though there were many points we did not necessarily agree on, we did agree that often we are limited by our own experiences and ignorance. No matter how far we travel, or how much we study, there are some things that remain outside our scope of what we know. Every now and then it's worthwhile to venture out and learn about something new.

And out of the woodwork...one ex came a-crawling...

Remember those posts a while back about how I love letters? Well, I'm half tempted to change that...

I got home yesterday and in amongst the junk mail and bills there was a letter from my ex (yes, for those of you who know who I'm talking about, it was from C).

It was almost a year to the day that I had a conversation with him that went something like this: "Please don't ever call me, e-mail me or come by the house again. In fact, don't ever contact me again. We're done."

And I walked away.

I wasn't a bitch about it. I didn't scream or yell. I looked him in the eye and was gentle, but firm -- and very honest and clear. There was no way I could have been more direct.

And so, what's in this letter?

An invitation to go for coffee!

Just in case you're wondering -- NO! It's not going to happen. Not in a million years.

But what part of "Don't ever contact me again" is unclear, I ask??

Instants

This morning Leah shared a poem with me by Jorge Luis Borges that was just what I needed. We have both studied and teach Spanish and I said to her, "It seems very un-Borges, to me... but then again, I'm no expert on Borges."

I did a bit of an Internet search to find a translation of the poem to post here for your reading enjoyment and it does seem as if the authorship of the original Spanish is doubted (actually, it's called a hoax, but you know...)

Anyway, despite the fact that we don't know who wrote it, the words went straight to my soul this morning and so, I thought I'd share them with you here:

Instants

If I could live my life over again,
In the next I would try to make more mistakes,
I wouldn't try to be so perfect,
I'd be more relaxed,
I'd be more full than I am now,
In fact, I'd take fewer things seriously,
I'd be less hygenic,
I'd take more risks,
I'd take more trips,
I'd watch more sunsets,
I'd climb more mountains,
I'd swim more rivers,
I'd go to more places I've never been,
I'd eat more ice creams and less Lima beans
I'd have more real problems - and less imaginary ones,
I was one of those people who lived prudently and prolificly
each minute of his life
Of course I had moments of joy
but if I could go back
I'll try to have only good moments
If you don't know - that's what life is made of
Don't lose the now!
I was one of those who never goes anywhere without a thermometer
without a hot-water bottle
and without an umberella and without a parachute,
If I could live again - I will travel light
If I could live again
I'll try to work bare feet at the beginning of spring till the end of autumn
I'll ride more carts
I'll watch more sunrises and play with more children
If I had the life to live
but now I am 85
and I know that I am dying ...

- Jorge Luis Borges (??)
(Translator unknown)

Instantes

Si pudiera vivir nuevamente mi vida.
En la próxima trataría de cometer más errores.
No intentaría ser tan perfecto, me relajaría más.
Sería más tonto de lo que he sido, de hecho
tomaría muy pocas cosas con seriedad.
Sería menos higiénico.
Correría más riesgos, haría más viajes, contemplaría
más atardeceres, subiría más montañas, nadaría más ríos.
Iría a más lugares adonde nunca he ido, comería
más helados y menos habas, tendría más problemas
reales y menos imaginarios.
Yo fui una de esas personas que vivió sensata y prolíficamente
cada minuto de su vida; claro que tuve momentos de alegría.
Pero si pudiera volver atrás trataría de tener
solamente buenos momentos.
Por si no lo saben, de eso está hecha la vida, sólo de momentos;
no te pierdas el ahora.
Yo era uno de esos que nunca iban a ninguna parte sin termómetro,
una bolsa de agua caliente, un paraguas y un paracaídas;
Si pudiera volver a vivir, viajaría más liviano.
Si pudiera volver a vivir comenzaría a andar descalzo a principios
de la primavera y seguiría así hasta concluir el otoño.
Daría más vueltas en calesita, contemplaría más amaneceres
y jugaría con más niños, si tuviera otra vez la vida por delante.
Pero ya tengo 85 años y sé que me estoy muriendo.
- Jorge Luis Borges (??)

Break ___________ (Fill in the blank)

I picked up a book on running a while back and in it I found a wise saying... that there is a fine line between a complete breakthrough and a complete breakdown.

I've been walking that line this week -- in more ways than one.

In a couple of hours I'll be handing in my first paper in this Ph.D. program that actually counts for marks. Not only is it for marks, it is worth 50% of the final grade.

Have I been stressing?

Panicking?

Just about gone off the freaking deep end?

Oh ya!

The other day Leah shouted her usual "Good morning!" from her room after she woke up.

I just groaned.

"What's wrong?!" She asked.

"I hate school! Why did I ever think I could do this? They made a mistake when they admitted me. I can't do this..."

I've never hated school in my life! In fact, I'm one of those geeks that loves school.

And I don't hate it now. Truth be told, I'm loving my two courses... but I feel like I'm living inside a pressure cooker at the moment... and that's just not fun.

My classmate, Steamer, did point out that much of this is self-inflicted.

And he's right... sigh...

I'm a perfectionist... which often leads me closer to breakdown and only very rarely to breakthrough.

And it's only the first semester. God help me.

Working out -- which was supposed to keep me sane -- has come with its own frustrations this week. Yesterday's training session just about left me in tears (though, as per my nature, I would rather die than cry!) I keep trying these new exercises and lack the ability to do them properly -- and I don't know how to get it right. I'm probably just too stressed at the moment to absorb new activities, especially physical ones... I'm much more comfortable "living in my head" than in my body, it seems.

I'm so glad it's a long weekend! I will catch up on reading and catch up on "Sarah time with friends", many of whom have been neglected these past few weeks and the friendships need nurturing.

So, this weekend is dedicated to bringing back some balance and taking good long deep breaths, followed by some deep belly laughs while celebrating with friends... And maybe some tequila is even in order this weekend... Oh yeah...

9 of 13

Back at the beginning of the semester, I set up my week-by-week calendar, writing in all my non-negotiable commitments: classes I take, the class I teach, obligatory office hours, etc. Everything else gets slotted in around those.

I also made a small notation at the top of each weekly page, as to many weeks we are into the semester. As of today, we are starting week nine of a total of thirteen weeks. Just over a month left to the first semester! Yaay!

Luckily, this is a short week, with no classes on Thursday or Friday. I'm behind in my readings, so I'll have my nose in the books this weekend, but at least it's a relief to know there will be time to catch up.

And now... back to that paper that's due on Wednesday... and worth 50% of the final grade in the course. Nothing like a little pressure to get things done...

Neighbours fight (again!) - called 911 this time

So, in case you're wondering why I'm blogging at this ungodly hour, it's because I can't get back to sleep. I was woken up about an hour ago -- again! -- by the neighbours next door. I live in an attached townhouse and these 20-something kids who moved in next door are generally quiet... except when they fight.

This time I woke up again to screams of him calling her names that will not be reapeated here, and her screaming, "No! Please stop! Leave me alone!" and crying -- uncontrollably crying. This is usually followed by thumping, banging, running and more thumping.

This is the third time in a month I've woken up to these sounds. This time I thought, "Right, enough is enough." And I called 911.

After I called the police, the screaming escalated. For the first time, I actually heard her scream, "Help me! Somebody, please.... help me."

I just thought, "Hang on, honey... Help is on the way."

The police came and all went silent. The police knocked and knocked on the door and finally I went out and said to them, "Don't go. Theyr'e in there. They just got quiet when you arrived."

It took the police half an hour to get inside, but they did.

I was saddened, but not terribly surprised, when the police came back after a few minutes to say that there no blood and everything appeared to be fine. Her life is not in danger.

All I could think was ... maybe not this time.

Snow on Nov. 2

Better late than never! Much of the snow has melted now... but not all of it!

Snow in Calgary

I've been away from the blog-o-sphere for a few days, as it has been positively hectic.

We had a big dump of snow the night before last. I took some photos but haven't had time to download them yet. Will soon....

My car was grumbling in a pained way the night of the snow. (Brakes? Tires?) It doesn't seem to like stopping on ice very much. The tires are brand new this year, so we'll have to see what the problem is. I just got it in April, having bought it from my older brother and his wife, who were the original owners. I know they took care of it, so hopefully it's just maintenance stuff.

So yesterday, I took the bus, opting to leave the car in the driveway. The roads out of my community were positively nasty yesterday and I was just as happy to let someone else do the driving.

Needless to say, the outdoor run did not happen. The streets were too icy and much as I was itching to get outside, I decided that would not be so smart. So… 25 laps around the track it was. At least I managed to count them right!

The roads seem a bit better now, so unless it snows again, maybe I’ll get outside for a run on the weekend.

Will try to post pictures of the snow soon…

Happy Halloween!

Just a quick note to wish you all a Happy Halloween. As I write this, I am still at the university, trying desperately to get to work on my two research papers that are due next week... but even though it is almost 7:00 p.m. people keep knocking on my office door at the research centre where I work. Argh!

Think I'll have to go home in order to get started on these little gems...

In other news, I have gotten my hands on an outdoor running map, with routes of different distances clearly marked. Yaay!

I am getting too "zoned out" running in circles around the track. TWICE now (in a row, no less!) I've lost count of the number of laps I've done. Oh dear... Will try an outdoor run on Wednesday. Hopefully I'll just be able to turn my brain off and enjoy it.

Oooh... that sounds lovely... turning my brain off for a while!

I have discovered that brains are like bodies... if you overstuff them and then try to make them work hard, they're positively sluggish!

That's describes how mine is operating these days... overstuffed (and hence, sluggish) brain. Arrggghhhh!

Synagogue with Leah

My house-mate, Leah, is fairly new to Calgary. She’s still getting to know the city and does not have a car. She’s also Jewish and one of her goals and journeys in her first few months here has been to find a synagogue to join. Calgary can be a difficult place to negotiate on public transportation and so, when Leah told me she’d found a synagogue that she thought she’d like, I offered to drive her.

I was thinking I’d drop her off, go have a coffee or go for a walk and then pick her up again later. But she said, “Well, why don’t you just come with me?”

Leah is delightfully open-minded and tolerant and I knew that her question was nothing more than an open invitation. No ulterior motives of conversion or the like. So, I accepted.

We went last night. It was the first time in my life I’d been in a synagogue.

I’ve been to services of various faiths here and there throughout my life (weddings, funerals, going to a service with a friend, etc.) and so, I knew I’d feel somewhat out of place… and I was comfortable with feeling uncomfortable, in this situation, if that makes any sense.

As always when thrown into such situations, I watch, try to follow, keep an open heart and mind and be respectful (reining in my sometimes over-zealous curiosity until an appropriate moment later to ask questions.)

It was an interesting experience… I was surprised to see how much closer it was to Christian services than I expected, apart from the Hebrew and the Torah, of course. And I thought the bilingual Hebrew-English prayer book, that worked from back to front was particularly curious… and delightful! (I’m such a lover of languages… and books!)

I think that every now and then, it’s good to step outside your comfort zone, try something new and appreciate the moment for what it is.

Leah was happy with the service and the people she found there, so I think she’s one step closer to creating her own sense of community in Calgary.

And she was gracious enough to answer the long list of questions I had mentally formulated during the service. I learned a lot.

What a unique way to spend a Friday night!

What makes a person beautiful?

I am fascinated by Dove's "Campaign for real beauty" (http://www.campaignforrealbeauty.ca/) for two reasons:

• It speaks to me on a human (OK, womanly) level.
• I have dedicated part of my career to marketing, and I think it's a fantastic marketing concept. (I bet they're making money hand-over-fist these days.)

If you haven't checked out their website, I'd invite you to do so. It's pretty cool. They don't focus on Dove products at all, but instead on their "campaign" to help women build self-esteem.

All corporations donate money to charities. They have to or they don't look like good corporate citizens. Some corporations are particular about who they funnel money to, and others… not so much. This “campaign” funnels their charity dollars into associations that help people deal with eating disorders. Kinda cool.

If I take off my marketer’s hat and put on my human hat (though... can you ever really not have your human hat on?) this whole thing makes me think about beauty and how we define it.

I had this question on the brain today and so, all day I looked at people around me, thinking about their beauty. I spend my day at a university, and there’s a lot of people there. I probably scanned the faces and bodies of a few – or perhaps, several -- hundred people today, while thinking about beauty.

I don't mean beauty in the sense of "turn on". Of course, if you look at enough people there are those who do that too, but that wasn't the point of the exercise. Today was about any and all kinds of beauty.

That included the young, the old, the wizened, the tall, the short, the thin, the overweight, and even the obese…the brilliant, the not-so-brilliant and the developmentally delayed… people from various walks of life, of various colors and tones. You get the idea.

I had a hard time finding anyone that I did NOT think was beautiful in some way, shape or form. Every one seemed to have something about them that made them seem beautiful. I wasn't particularly looking for it to be like that... I just wanted to be aware of my own reactions to people around me.

I’m not exactly what you’d classify as an overly “romantic” sort of person and I wasn’t feeling particularly “warm and fuzzy” today, so I found it curious that I was not more critical.

Perhaps I’m just getting softer as the years go by? Dunno…

But let me put it out there and see what you think… What do you find beautiful? Or better yet… what don’t you find beautiful? And more importantly… why?

Got sleep!

Yaay! I went home last night and crashed - hard! I feel soooo much better today. Zippity do dah!

It's a good thing because my weekend is looking rather hideous at the moment... oh dear!

By the way, I have to write a paper on the concept of reflexivity in research. Any tips, articles or wonderful resources would be much appreciated. I know the concept in grammar, but not in philosophy....

Which reminds me, I have to go to the library and look up the references the prof gave me...

Must run and do that now....

Because you asked...

(and I'm so damned pragmatic, I'll answer...)

OK ... so a few of you have asked how I possibly manage to get into three bras before I jog -- and if it's actually necessary.

The short answer to the last question is: yes. If it wasn't necessary, I wouldn't do it.

The short answer to the first question is:

1. one under-wire sports bra
2. one one-piece "compression" sports bra (affectionately known as a uni-boober)
3. one built into the top

The tops are sleeveless workout tops and to be quite frank, a bit too IMmodest for my taste, but with three layers on, I just couldn't handle throwing a T-shirt on over top.

(Besides, most T-shirts are way too long for me anyway and look like night gowns. I tend to go for what would be classified as crop tops for most girls, but on me, actually come down to my waist, covering everything nicely -- but still too hot over three other layers of clothing.)

a. and I went to this women's fitness seminar at a local shop last Sunday night. The featured presentation was on sports bras. It was a complete joke. The presentation was done by a rep of a company that makes them.

The rep had... how can I put this politely... a figure that ... clearly showed she could not relate to our pain.

I tried on their "super high-impact" model anyway, just to see.

You never know until you try, right?

Yeah, right!

As IF!

I'll stick to my system of three for now, thank you very much.

I keep hearing about the Ennell though, so I will have to check it out soon, I think.

So anyway, I've gone for functionality over personal preference when I jog. Hence, also trading long capri pants for shorts when I run.

Way, way too immodest -- and probably makes me the biggest eyesore in the gym -- but whatever. It's better than passing out from overheating.

As I re-read this post, I am aware that I am starting to be less and less intimidated about this whole exercise thing. Before, I just wanted to fade into the background and never, ever be noticed -- not by anyone -- EVER!

Now, I really don't give a rat's ass if anyone notices or not. I haven't been thrown out of the gym yet, so I really don't care.

I go and do my thing... for what it's worth.

Only took damn near six months of going to the gym on a regular basis to get to the point of "not giving a rat's ass".

Exhaustion

I haven't written anything for a few days (to the extent that I'm starting to get prodded by people who check in regularly!) Sorry for that... I did promise this as a space where I'd stay in touch, didn't I? Must remember that.

Last night I was working on campus with a prof until almost 11:30 p.m. Went home and apart from saying hello to Leah, fell into bed, almost forgetting to feed the cats. (Don't worry... they ran around, crashed into things, jumped on me and fought until I dragged myself out of bed and fed them....)

This morning I was scheduled for my usual Wednesday 5 K run, plus workout. And yes... the workout is again "new and improved", having moved into the realm of free weights. (a., I know you'll be pleased about that!)

As my alarm went off, I thought to myself, "Uuuuggggffffff! I can't... I need sleep."

Then, the other voice in my head said, "Oh no you don't! You started working out so that when you got stressed, you'd already be in the habit. Now get your sorry ass out of bed and go! Go!"

I fumbled around, so tired I was nauseous and got ready. I'm not really a breakfast person (unless it's going out for breakfast, which is then a social event and so, entirely different). Eating breakfast on a tired/nauseous stomach was really not an appealing idea.

But I remembered that running on empty doesn't work out so well for me. And I also remembered the words of my doctor last summer, "Eating breakfast is not negotiable. You must eat in the morning!"

So, I choked down (literally... choked... took me damn near 15 minutes to eat it...) a piece of bread and butter, and headed out the door.

I was feeling that kind of exhaustion that causes car accidents, so I blasted my music on the way to work and felt barely awake by the time I got to school.

The run was pathetically, hideously slow (I appear to have not simply plateaued, but actually regressed...) Whatever... I tried to focus on technique and efficiency... Didn't do so well with that either though, today.

My attempt at the new and improved workout also left much to be desired. I went through the whole thing so slowly I was almost late to teach my Spanish class!

Oh well... tomorrow is another day...

I've missed two Skype dates with Cindy this week (Sorry, amiga! You're at the top of my list for tonight!) and I did a report for work yesterday and forgot a simple little thing that I should have known better about.

My balancing act is teetering these days... work, school, teaching, working out, friends, general life ... and one more factor that's been added into the equation that I'll reserve comment on for the moment.

So, tonight, after class (which ends at 7:30 p.m.) and after going to the grocery store (because I didn't make it yesterday and I'm running out of everything), I plan to have a blissful date with my pillow.

Prancing princess

Typically when I go to the gym, I have - until very recently - either kept my eyes down or focussed on something (a point on the wall, for example) so I can concentrate better. The result is that I'm pretty much oblivious to what's going on around me.

I'm starting to come out of my daze a bit. Now, on occasion, I notice people who have good posture, for example. (Posture being something that has been -- and continues to be -- drilled into my head.)

When I see someone who stands up straight, I think to myself, "Hhmm... good posture!" Still though... It barely registers whether the human form in front of me is male or female.

As of today, I think the daze is officially over.

I was in the locker room, changing for my workout. I was in a bit of a hurry, as the conference I have to attend and present at is today and tomorrow, so I had to squeeze my workout in first thing in the morning, or it wasn't going to happen at all.

There was another girl in there at the same time as me, also getting out of street clothes and into gym clothes.

As I stood in front of the mirror, exasperated, trying to get my hair into a French braid (and failing miserably, as usual!), I noticed the other girl, who was also standing at the mirror.

And I was gobsmacked.

Not because she was beautiful (though I'm sure many would say that she was), but because she had a full make-up kit spread out all over the vanity. We're talking - the works - foundation, eye makeup, blush, eyebrow pencil, mascara, lip gloss, powder - you name it. She had more make up than my drag queen hair stylist, Deva Dave.

And she was using it -- ALL -- to get made up -- to go work out!!

I fumbled with my braid as she filled in perfect eyebrows, followed by long, sweeping strokes of her mascara brush.

Hell, I'm lucky if I remember to chuck on some lip balm so my lips don't get all dry and cracked as I'm huffing and puffing -- and even then, I forget half the time.

Needless to say, I got out of the locker room before her.

I did see her later, looking like she had never sweated a drop in her life. While, I, on other hand, dripped with sweat (let's make no mistake here.... there's no ladylike "glowing" going on...And it's not pretty, trust me.)

If I plod, this one pranced... all over the gym.

"What's the point?" I asked myself, knowing the answer, full well, of course... Though I confess, it had never occurred to me that anyone might go to the gym for any other reason than to... er... exercise?!

Still though... I don't get it.

Wall-to-wall pink

So my house mate, Leah, asked me if she could paint her room. At first, the hairs on the back of my neck bristled. I had an interior designer help me choose the colours for my house and then, I painted a good deal of it myself (with the rest being done by the ex... at a time before he was the ex.)

Anyway, Leah said, "The colour now... It's just... really not me. I would pick a colour that matched with the scheme of things, I promise."

I thought, "She's a great house mate. If it will make a big difference to the quality of her life here, then really, it's not such a big deal..."

Neck hairs laid flat again.

I said, "Sure, go for it."

She brought home some samples and they all seemed reasonable, so I told her to pick the one she liked best and have at 'er.

The result is now a light pink room (formerly known as the taupe office!)

It does look larger and brighter, I have to admit.

But I have confess... I never thought I'd see pink walls in my house.

Ah, what the hell.... it's only paint!

Plodding update

So, many of you have been asking me about how "the running thing" is going.

Let's be clear about one thing: "running" is an exaggeration. I plod. The fact that I run about 5K in 40 minutes should quell any fantasies you have about this.

Remember, I have a 28" inseam... That translates into short legs. This is not self-deprecation. It's an observation based on empirical fact. I'm quite OK with this reality, but it does mean that I will probably have to work a little (or maybe a lot) harder to get a little faster. And that's OK, too... I'd just prefer not to die in the process.

In fact, since we are being realistic here, let me just say:

1. No, I will not be running a marathon any time soon. I can barely do 5K! (So... stop asking! It's too much pressure!)
2. If #1 above is true, then I will certainly not be considering any triathalons or any other sport ending in the suffix "-alon". Not going to happen.

Yes, I do have some goals in mind, but I prefer to keep them to myself for the moment. They do, however, include such things as "Run 5K without going into cardiac arrest". This is a modest, but reasonable, goal... and one I look forward to achieving sometime over the next year or so...

You want the goods on how it's going? Well, here's what I've found out:

1. It's hard. I wheeze - a lot. (And no, I'm not a smoker. Never have been; never will be.)
2. I enjoy a love/hate relationship with this new activity. I love doing it... until about the 3rd km, then I hate it. I keep going because I am not sane enough to quit.
3. My hair is annoying. I have discovered that the only way I can run with it comfortably is in a French braid. I am lousy at braiding my hair, so I'm sure it looks hideous. But whatever.... The other day, I somehow forgot to braid it before I found myself on the track. The pony tail swatting the back of my neck did not make me happy. (If you're wondering why I don't just go cut it off, read Project Rapunzel - Take Two. It's no where near time to cut it yet.)
4. People who design sports bras have no freaking idea what they're doing!! (And they should probably be shot -- or better yet -- forced to run a mile in another woman's body and bra.) And yes... I bought "top quality" at a proper running store. WhatEVER. The designers should still be shot! -- Are you guessing that I have an opinion on this matter at all?! Well, you would too, if you strapped yourself into three of the suckers before setting a foot on the track. (No wonder I wheeze!)
5. Proper socks are expensive.
6. I need good socks because blisters are simply a fact of life now. (And yes, I do have proper shoes, fitted by a professional. In fact, I have two pairs - one I keep pair at home; the other at the gym.) Despite what at least one of you has asked, no, I don't feel "cool" having feet covered in blisters, and no, having them doesn't make me feel like a "real" runner. I suspect "real" runners have callouses. It's us wannabes that have blisters.
7. Thank God for iPod.
8. If I were a sane human being, I would probably have quit by now. But A. made a good point to me last weekend when she said, "We know you can do it. You do whatever you set your mind to. The question is should you do it?"

(And that, from the woman who thought it was a good idea to do 108 bicep curls at her own gym last Friday... Yes, A. we know you can do it, but should you?!) Personally, I've never liked the word "should". We should really eliminate it from the English language.

There you are... plodding update, as requested! It's really not as glamorous as it may seem.

Wanna help? Here's what would be really great:

1. Send song recommendations for the "running tunes" play list on my iPod.
2. Don't ask about racing, any events ending with suffix "-athon" (or worse yet, "athalon"). Remember that I am a beginner and it's "one step at a time", as they say. In my case, those are slow steps... and that is unlikely to change any time soon. :-)
3. Anyone got any tips on how to French braid your hair?

By the way, thanks to amber and KT for their long-distance tips and tricks. Good to know others go through the same things -- and your blogs are inspiring. Thanks to everyone else, too, who has offered encouragement without pressure! And special thanks to those of you who remind me to stay sane and this is supposed to be fun. (A. are you reading this? :-)

Now, I really should go study for a while...

Locker room talk

So, now I'm in month number five of going to the gym regularly now. (Hell, that's over half as long as it takes to gestate a new human life! Geez... when I think about it like that...)

I'm up to 5 K runs, three times a week, plus weights, and stationary biking on the other two days. Hiring a trainer has helped. He's pushed me past where I would have pushed myself and generally boosts my almost-non-existent confidence when I'm exercising.

I was pretty hard on him in our last session... calling him all sorts of nasty names that resulted in a rather sheepish and apologetic e-mail from me after the session. But I think he understood. (And if not, he was gracious enough to not let me know!)

These workouts are demanding and I've almost gotten to the point where I throw up (well, only once...) but I keep going. It's especially tough at the moment, because I've completely plateaued and although I know it is normal, that doesn't make it easy. Nevertheless, on we go...

Anyway, so when I was in the locker room the other day, I heard these two girls talking. They were a few rows over from me, so I didn't actually see them, but the conversation went something like this...

Girl one - (a bit of the conversation I missed, followed by...) "Anyway... it's good for your core."

Girl two - "Core? I don't have a core! Haven' t you noticed? I'm all soft and flabby... no core here!"

I thought to myself, "Geez, that girl sounds like me talking!"

And at that same precise moment, another thought zipped through my head. It was, "Of course you have a core, girl! Stand up and be proud of your body, no matter what it looks like. You're here at the gym, aren't you? You're getting some exercise and that's good for your body and your soul. No need to talk like that! Geez, have some confidence, would you?"

Then it occurred to me that I while I would think that as a mental response to someone else, I have never said anything like that to myself!

The ironic thing was, I have no idea what the other girl looked like... maybe she was skinny as a rake... or she could have been 400 lbs. I'll never know. But the interesting thing was that I identified with her... and then mentally told her to smarten up!

And with that, I lifted my chest, drew back my shoulders, slung my bag on my shoulder and walked out of the locker room with my head held high, realizing that I have a core now, dammit!

Love ya, sis!

Those of you who follow this blog know that I'm pretty darn happy with my family. Don't get me wrong, it's not a perfect family -- not by any means! But over all I appreciate each person in the family for who they are ... most of the time, any way!

I wanted to give my sister some air time on this blog, since I've mentioned both my brothers and my Dad recently, but not Tracy. She's my one and only sister and also a great friend. Like most sisters, we don't always see eye to eye and every now and then, we have it out but good -- but that's the exception, not the rule.

Wanted to share this pic of the two of us at her wedding this June.

In addition to being a new wife and step-mom, she's also a gifted interior designer (and although it's not her job, it probably should be - she's freaking brilliant at it) and has the gift of compassion with -- and connection to -- animals like no one I've ever seen. (Bill, please don't let her get any more cats! That would just be... scary!)

And did I mention that she's an even better cook than I am? And I'm one fabulous cook... (A guy once said to me, "You cook like this and you're not married? Do you want to be married... to me?!")

So anyway, in case you haven't figured it out, I think she's pretty amazing.

You're beautiful, smart and funny, sis and I love ya!

Saying hello (part two)

Thanks for the comments on part one! As I said, I've done a good deal of thinking about the phrase, "Saying hello... creates a world... in which, saying 'hello' is possible." It made me think about my own patterns of who I say hello to and when and how I do it. Here are some thoughts:

The role of authority

I agree with CM's comment about authority. As a teacher, I will always say hello to my students if I see them outside the classroom. Actually, I usually greet them with “¡Hola!”, since they’re learning Spanish with me. As the one in the position of authority, I think it’s my job to say hello them first.

If I am clearly the subordinate (for example, if I see the Dean on campus), I would probably wait for the other person to take the lead on the greeting. It’s not something I do consciously, I just do it.

If I have a professional relationship with someone and the other person holds the balance of power (say, for example, my doctor), I would probably say hello anyway if I saw them outside the usual context.

Comfort level

I have noticed that if I am in a situation where I feel relaxed and comfortable, saying hello is easy. I don’t even think about it. If I am tense, apprehensive or worried, it becomes almost impossible. Example: my first few months in the gym, I would keep my eyes down and not say hello to anyone, hoping in part, not to be noticed… (or laughed at!) Now, I know a few people and will say hello to them… but it took a good long time for my comfort level to rise to that point.

Personalized greetings

My greetings will often change from person to person. Some people get a nod of the head and a smile, others get a word of greeting (varying from “Hello”, “Hi”, “Hey, how’s it going?” and so on) and others still get hugs and kisses. Depends who they are. My hairdresser, for example, always gets a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Why? Dunno. We’ve been doing that for years and it would seem funny to do anything else.

My best friend though, might get a hug or she might only get a, “Hiya! How’s it going?!”

Why wouldn’t she get a hug and a kiss, too, just like the hairdresser? Because it’s not necessarily our dynamic… If we hadn’t seen each other for ages, we might hug. Otherwise, probably not. But she still means the world to me – and she knows it. But that does lead into the next bit…

Context

My greetings will most definitely change according to context. If I see the same person in a professional context and a social one, the greeting may well be different according to where we are. If I go to a colleague’s house for dinner, I might greet that person with a hug upon entering their house – or maybe not, depending on the situation.

Of course, business and social settings set the tone for a greeting. There are times when a good, firm handshake the only acceptable greeting.

Physicality

As someone who functions professionally and socially in both English and Spanish, social greetings with Latin people are often warmer and involve kisses on one or both cheeks, depending on where the person is from. I’m quite comfortable with physical greetings involving hugs or kisses, and if I know the other person is too, then it seems quite natural to express the greeting physically.

But if I’m not sure the other person is comfortable with that (e.g. most of my Canadian-born friends and acquaintances of Anglo-Saxon heritage), I don’t even go there. I’m well aware of the fact that just because I’m OK wrapping my arms around someone, or getting check-to-cheek for half a second, doesn’t mean everyone is. Above all else, greetings should be respectful first, then friendly and then warm, I think. Again though, it depends on who, when and where.

Culture

The bit about physicality makes me think about culture and customs, too. These are very important and play a strong role in how we greet people. In a job I held a few years ago, I worked with a numerous foreigners, many of them from Asia. I never even attempted to bow, as I had heard that many non-Asians will “muck it up” and so, I was afraid to embarrass myself.

I was more comfortable with the typical Latin greeting with kisses, than trying to understand the complexities of bowing in different Asian cultures. Maybe one day I’ll add it to my repertoire of greeting customs, but I doubt it will be soon.

Conclusions?

Saying “hello” seems so simple and so easy. And yet, there’s all kinds of other things that come into play. I’m not sure I’m done thinking about this though… There might be another post on this topic later on, so stay tuned.

But for now… farewell, adieu, adiós, ciao, or in cyber-talk… L8R!