How worried can we women be that a man might see us au naturel? What are they going to see that they have never seen before?
I was in the gym Tuesday morning for a swim, and there is construction going on inside the women's locker room. Now, our gym is really snazzy :) and regularly floods every spring, so the leaks need to be fixed - which means some burly or some not-so-burly men run around the fitness grounds trying to fix things. As I was happily showering away, I hear this voice yelling "The Men are Coming In, the Men are Coming In." This was not a particular big worry for me, actually I was quite intrigued as to what was about to happen, but apparently there are some representatives of my gender, who have resorted to loud screaming and other lily-livered behavior - so now every time the construction guy threatens to enter the dressing room, some poor schlepp (female of course) who works at the gym has to come in, make the announcement and sweep for the squeamish in nature. No comment.
Is this how you get your jollies?
As many of you have experienced I have been known to dazzle my friends with completely-out-of-context statements that I throw into a conversation that has usually nothing to do with what I am about to say. As we were driving home after our hike up Mt Willey in New Hampshire this past weekend, I made the statement "I really like to watch old people eat." An honest statement, which I base on the fact that I often do observe older people eat in cafes or here at the hospital, and they seem so peaceful doing it, no rush, just sitting there with a cup of coffee and the most gigantic piece of chocolate cake known to mankind, and focused on nothing else. Who cares about calories; who cares about anything? Of course this background information was at that time not known to my hiking friends, who promptly asked me "Is this how you get your jollies?" I have no idea what they're talking about.
You must be f*****ing kidding me!
I am not one usually prone to expletives, but that changed last year during one of our power weekends where Rick, Steph, Dan and I hiked Little Haystack, Lincoln and Lafayette on a Saturday; Steph and I followed it with a 9-mile jog, and armed with his extraordinary powers of persuasion, Rick talked me into yet another hiking excursion. I expected a somewhat moderate jaunt through the woods, but that is not how it turned out alltogether. On a particularly steep slope up toward Kedron Flume, I apparently just lost it, and yelled up the hill "You must be f****ing me", which I believe scared my poor friend Rick just a wee bit. Anyway, this past weekend, heading up Sunday to Mt Willey (4302 ft) - yes, we did hike another mountain on Sunday contrary to my predictions Saturday night - it was one steepfest up the mountain, and after climbing up some stairs in the hope the summit may be near, Steph advised me that now would be a good time to use said cuss words as she was planning to do so herself.
It was a splendid day for a hike up Mt Willey, which provided us with spectacular views of Crawford Notch, Mount Washington and the Pemigewassett Wilderness.
Don't believe a word he is saying
Our friend Rick definitely seems to have developed a newfound passion for sending fellow hikers into oblivion. In at least two occasions this weekend, he first optimistically sent slightly malequipped hikers up Mt Jefferson ("it's not that windy anymore!!"),and also pointed a lovely couple in a direction they may have not wanted to go (which made us actually look for them later along Route 302 - of course not before we had gone for ice cream - we do have our priorities). Any other folks we met along the trail were subsequently told by Stephanie that he was lying through his teeth and to not believe a word the man was saying.
The Two Person Book Group
The two-person book of Cooper and Loesch met this week for the first time to discuss a book exploring two generations of women from India ("The Hindi Bindi Club" by Monica Pradhan) by doing a little exploring ourselves - Indian food that is. We dragged ourselves in the Godawful heat we had this week (95 degrees for three days in a row) down to Inman Square and plopped ourselves into a nice air-conditioned booth at Haveli, shared a beer called Flying Horse and ate until we were ready to burst. Of course, one can be as full as can be - there is always room for some Christina's ice cream to top off the evening (http://christinasicecream.com/).
My Apology to the Flip Flop Manufacturers of America (with a caveat)
Well only a temporary one, but yours truly has been seen lately walking the streets of Cambridge with flip-flops on her feet (actually they are Tevas, but some conventional minds might call them flip flops). Reason being is that soft tissue injury I had on my right foot, and armed with my cushiony footwear, walking to work has become extremely bearable and the little heal is healing slowly, but surely. I did attempt a gingerly jog last night, 20 minutes, just a little hop around the neighborhood. The heat this week forced everyone to run for the water, and I did the same, heading for the gym, fins in hand, for a few refreshing laps around the old pool.
A Young Chick, Again
He is the prettiest bird in Cambridge!! Oscar has experienced a physical rebirth of sorts - you see, being the gnarly old bird he is (he is turning 11 on July 5th - calls with chirps are appreciated on our voice mail) he started to grow some extra keratin on his cere (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cere) which looked brown, knurled and twisted, and just not pretty. After a week's application of some frou-frou smelling oil, the ugly blob fell off, and Oscar looks as good as new, and we are very happy with our vet, needless to say.
Enough for tonight - must go to bed. I hope you also enjoyed the pictures I sent earlier.
PetJ
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