RE: (Humor) Hurry Up and Join the Party! Zoom-zoom-zumba!

Hurry up and Join the Party!

I’m a devotee of fast; fast walking, fast talking, and fast doing. I come by all of this honestly as I hail from a long line of extremely active folks for whom, “Hurry up!” was a type of mantra that prefaced, well, everything.

“Hurry up or you’re going to be late for school.”
“Hurry up or I’m going to be late for work.”
“Hurry up so we can enjoy all of those precious childhood moments and then firmly launch you into adulthood where you belong.”

My fast life style includes fast dancing, exemplifying my “let the good times roll” philosophy where I passionately pursue one hot tamale of a calorie-burning package: Zumba!

This Latin dance-inspired program even has a motto, “Ditch the Workout, Join the Party.” Any pursuit subscribing to such an energizing and positive agenda is my kind of activity and truth be told, any time I’m dancing it’s more fun-in, than work-out.

Plus, I love, love, love parties. Now I know folks like to spin that into: “I love, love, love alcohol-swilling, “where did my clothes go?” partyin’, but that’s not my interpretation though I admit it might make for a more interesting column.

There’s another reason that I am devoted to finding and attending every Zumba class and specially scheduled Zumba party taking place in my tri-county area of coverage.

I love all things Latin; as in Latin American Latin, not Roman Latin. When I’m influenced by the “scholarly” Latins I’m likely to overthink myself into a fluffy, intellectual state of caloric overindulgence. With the spicy Latin American Latins I’m in motion, thus avoiding the ice cream headache too much reflection can cause along with adding “more of me to love.”

Though I’ve glided along on the arm of my fair share of ballroom buddies and two-step twirlers, it is the “shake it until the sweat flies” Latin American moves of Salsa, Merengue, Mambo, and Cha Cha that have always converted me from onlooker toe tapping status to full-out dance floor performance mode.

After formally studying Spanish from tiny twinkie-dom through the full-grown college years, I am left with the dubious distinction of being able to roll a mean “r.”

Granted, remaining fluent in the language is a much more employable attribute; however, this talent comes in mighty handy when cha-cha-chaing with my fellow zumberizers.

Now we’ve got the fast dancing, the rolling of the r’s and, as if all of that doesn’t constitute a good enough Zumba fit, I am able to bust out a bevy of sounds I’m not usually able to work into my normal day-to-day activities.

(This is primarily due to various auditory county ordinances, code restrictions and with greater frequency, requests from others to stop emitting blood-curdling, banshee-like sounds. I also boast one memorable blast in my repertoire that is eerily reminiscent of Mel Gibson’s battle cry in Braveheart.)

Let me add that the vocalization Zumba inspires in me is more satisfying than that double shot of whipped cream on my pumpkin pie which, coincidentally, is one of the things that motated me on over to class on Thanksgiving Day.

There I was with 32 fabulous, inspirational, and gorgeous women burning more calories than I had consumed thus far. To be fair it was still only 10:00 a.m. in the morning, so I hadn’t been able to really apply myself fully to the task at hand.

During this class – and in all of my Zumba classes – I execute moves normally reserved for dark, smoky barrooms and open bar-fueled wedding receptions. I shimmy shamelessly as I channel Che Guevara in my rallying cry to fellow dancers yelling, “Ye, ye, ye! Viva la revolución” or something like that.

As a sidebar, there are other shouts, chants, war cries, and general auditory outbursts that work well in fitness classes:

Good for Zumba:
--¡Arriba!
-- ¡Vamános!

Good for martial artsy classes:
--Hi ya!
--Kiai! (pronounced key-eye)

Good for line dancing:
--Yee haw!
--Giddyup!

[Warning: Do not confuse any of the above calls with similar refrains, such as Soo-wee, Mayday, or God Save the Queen. These have no application whatsoever to the world of fitness; nevertheless, as you begin to achieve a state known as “muy caliente” you may find yourself nonsensically blurting them out.]

For all of these reasons I say, “Hurry up and Join the Party!” Just follow the auditory trail of those continuously trilling r’s over to zoom-zoom-zumba –– before the holiday scale zooms out of your comfort zone.

Safety Issues Related to Yogurt (Humor)...how to gain access to this tasty treat

May 23, 2010

Snap, Pop, Oh!

If they can put a man on the moon and if the Voyager 2 space probe can visit all four of the Outer Planets and their systems of moons and rings, including the first two visits to previously unexplored Uranus and Neptune, then why can’t they make a yogurt that doesn’t pop you in the face?

When deciding to imbibe the tasty health treat that is yogurt, I look like I’m opening a container of yellow cake uranium, I’m so careful when I peel back the “foil for my protection.” Even so, no matter how hard I try, no matter how slowly I go, no matter how well aware I am of prior outcomes, there’s still that “Snap, pop, oh!” as droplets of yogurtized goodness sprinkle upon me.

But you know this scourge is not just limited to cultured products, having spread to other “no need to chew” foods for which I have a penchant. Victuals such as applesauce and pudding, to name two, create a daily life bursting with encounters of the spotty kind. Where I used to enjoy the convenience that is not masticating, I am now paying dearly for my laziness.

I’m starting to show telltale signs of PTSD due to my “When Snack Foods Attack” experiences. Having to steel myself for each encounter has caused me to appear a bit twitchy and desperate looking, rendering me into a vision nothing like those radiantly happy, yogurt-slurping, pudding-celebrating, applesauce-delighting actors on television.

Though I know these savory snacks will spit on me, I want them, nay, I crave these doll-sized, 60-calorie serving, completely fortified with my daily vitamins and minerals fare, so I continue my Lucy-holding-the-football-for-Charlie-Brown relationship with them.

I tell you, it gives a whole new meaning to the slogan, “Good to the last drop” because my last drops are greatly affected by the fact that I’m wearing several first drops which, in turn, make my snack food go all the faster.

I mean, have you tried to spot clean gelatinous drops of snack shots from your garments lately? My “Tide to Go” usually is my “Tide Does the Trick,” but not when dealing with a substance like inulin, which is what’s in these things, and is described as a “natural dietary fiber.” Oh, good, I was worried it was something unnatural like, cocoa processed with alkali, surcralose, or even that rascal, carrageenan. Okay, that last one looks a little too close for comfort to that other bad word, carcinogen, and I’m reading all of this straight off the label.

I thought I was eating this stuff for my health, but it looks like I ought to lay off of them for my health. Well, super, that should take care of my “Snap, pop, oh!” laundry issues.

I’m glad we resolved that one. Thanks for letting me write about this in order to process and commit to making a change I can do less laundry by. Now I can move on to other things like—wait, just a second, I want to grab a writing implement and make a note about what I need to move on to, before I forget it.

Huh. I don’t remember buying this pen and, actually, it looks as though it’s… “Snap, pop, oh!” …leaking.

How Life is Like Meatloaf...humorous list that works when you substitute the word "life" for meatloaf...

March 3, 2010

The full back story on today’s blog topic is probably too long (or boring?!) to go into, but suffice it to say, our family prides itself on its rich meatloaf-making history. My mom always made a killer “loaf,” that we looked forward to immensely and it was always a “Sunday,” special dinner item, complete with potatoes, green beans and a scrumptious dessert.

I wouldn’t say I’m known for my culinary wizardry, but there are a few things I can cook well and meatloaf is one of them. (We can also add mac ‘n’ cheese, vegetarian lasagna, manicotti, spaghetti and enchiladas which represents my comprehensive “things I cook consistently well” list.)

My eldest even had a meatloaf birthday party one year and I thought we may be the oddest party-throwing family ever until I read an article about the fact that author, Jackie Collins, often throws meatloaf parties for her friends and they love it!

Woe was me when the aforementioned eldest child “went vegetarian,” rendering my meatloaf fixing days to even fewer, as even our youngest teetered between “to meat” or “not to meat,” that is the question. She finally landed on the former, so every few months I whip up this fabulous comfort food hearkening back to my childhood and it got me to thinking…

How Life is Like Meatloaf

You should be able to substitute the word “life” for “meatloaf” on each of the following, so try it out and see if it works. If you’re a vegetarian this list can still work for you, just replace “meatloaf” with tofu, bean curd, eggplant or any other taste treat staple you consider to be yummy.

1. Not everybody knows how to create a satisfying meatloaf.
2. The best part about meatloaf is when it’s had a chance to be savored. That’s the time when it’s fully appreciated.
3. You can’t “wolf down” meatloaf because you’ll miss all of the subtle, fully-flavored nuances of the experience.
4. Sometimes the creation of a meatloaf you want takes a few attempts before it is just right.

5. No one agrees on what makes a perfect meatloaf.
6. You’re either a meatloaf lover or a meatloaf hater.
7. Time can be the meatloaf’s enemy or the meatloaf’s friend. It just depends on what stage of meatloaf preparation you’re in.
8. Meatloaf takes a lot of work, but it’s always worth it.
9. Meatloaf needs spice, otherwise what’s the point?
10. Overworking the meatloaf can lead to disastrous results.
11. A good meatloaf will make you happy.
12. There is no substitute for meatloaf or the contemplation of its many rewards.
13. You either want to make your own meatloaf or you don’t, but to claim meatloaf as your own means that no one can do it for you.
14. There is no shortcut for meatloaf because it takes time to make a memorable meatloaf.
15. Though many profess to have the perfect instructions, none exist for meatloaf.

The Not So Okay Corral...a humorously wild story about wildlife

March 2, 2010

The Not So Okay Corral

Even if I don’t go looking for excitement it comes a lookin’ for me. Case in point is my recent, “When Skunks Go Wild(ly Rabid)” experience.

Yesterday seemed like a normal enough day, what with me spending the budget of a small underdeveloped country on groceries, chasing the dogs around shouting, “Go outside to use the facilities!” and trying to schedule some spontaneity with my husband…until the phone call…duhn, duhn, duhn.

I was in the back of my mansion taking care of some business (translation: I was folding clothes in the back bedroom of my modest home) when I thought I heard the phone ring and the word, “skunk” being spoken by my neighbor during the course of her message. Now we have a great relationship, so I was pretty sure this wasn’t some sort of namecalling beginning volley, so I ran to hear the end of the message. (Okay, you got me on that one. I walked briskly.)

Evidently, there was a sick skunk wandering around my property with its tail up and at the ready, as well as its jaws, and our neighbor wanted to let me know that she was trying to find the appropriate county, state, INTERPOL agency that takes care of this sort of thing. She is a wonderful person who really goes above and beyond neighborly acts of kindness, lemme tell ya.

We met out in front of my estate (translation: we chatted in front of my deck that is the size of a roomy gang plank) to talk about the sick animal she was now viewing through her binoculars. The skunk’s future didn’t look so bright, seemingly destined for Skunk Heaven and Animal Control was on their way.

When the officer showed up to take a look at the animal she determined that a) the animal was suffering b) the animal was rabid and c) I should go inside the house. I determined that a) she was likely to be a good shot b) the animal was not going to be any other homeowner’s problem any time soon and c) I should go inside the house.

Meanwhile, some sort of Wildlife Refuge entity had been contacted as well which, unbeknownst to us, has a polar opposite sort of differing viewpoint about the handling of diseased wildlife than Animal Control. This is according to the animal refuge people, not us OR the Animal Control folks. My neighbor noted this when she was on the phone with the former and the shots heard around the block rang out as the animal savior shouted, “What was that? You didn’t call Animal Control did you? We could have saved that animal!” The succession of four blasts that followed didn’t enhance their communication and I guess the call didn’t end in the most positive of ways.

It took five shots to transition that poor, sick animal into the skunk hereafter, after which the area looked as though we’d had a shoot-out at the Okay Corral, the cordite and animal stench wafting through the air, vying for pungent equality. “What must the neighbors think?” crossed my mind, but we live in amongst wildlife, so it’s not all that unusual to hear gunshots. No one came to inquire about what time the “Neighborhood Watch Target Practice” meeting had started.

The officer bagged and tagged the skunk, advising me that she wouldn’t be taking our mammal lawn ornament with her, as our homeowner’s association would take care of picking up the animal free of charge. The problem was – and isn’t it interesting that I only see a problem at this juncture – that when I called my association I found out they only pick-up deer and it’s not free. Isn’t this some sort of health hazard that someone with more credentials than myself should be dealing with? Some entity like the “Wildlife Safety and Attention to the Details of the Animal Hereafter Association?”

Where before my neighbor had been taking care of everything I assured her it really was my responsibility, particularly now that the animal was secured and sedentary in my Dollar Tree garbage bag. When I called Animal Control I told the officer he would be my new best friend if he would please retrieve this murdered skunk and that I was now feeling a little bit like someone who has been privy to a crime being committed and I just wanted it all to be over, over, over. He said he would send someone over. And I’m still waiting. Over.

Take Me at My Word...moraine...where geography and vocabulary meet

February 20, 2010

Take Me at My Word…moraine…where geography and vocabulary meet

I’ve decided to run another little segment in my MS WRITE-NOW blog (http://mswrite-now.blogspot.com) every week called “Take Me at My Word,” along with my weekly “Not Not” lists…just because. Hey! Maybe “Just Because” will be the name of another segment….soon I’ll have more segments than days of the week. I’m treating my blog as though it’s a very small, but frequently published magazine and I’m the only editor which makes for a real decrease in my publishing rejection statistics.

As you might guess, “Take Me at My Word” offers up a somewhat unusual and interesting word that may be tough to introduce into a conversation, but, boy, if you can, impressive stuff! I love words and, as many of you know, there is a word for just such a person. Word-lover. Okay, only kidding. That may be true, but the more formal, Latin-y without salsa name is: philologist.

In a move to grab your attention by confusing you, I’m actually not writing about the word philologist today, but rather an intriguing-looking word that may make you stop and grab your dictionary by the short bindings upon encountering it, “it” being today’s “Take Me at My Word,” word:

Moraine

Contextually, it doesn’t provide any big clues, but maybe it reminds you of the word moron, like it does for me? Again, this is not helpful because the word has nothing to do with someone “who is notably stupid or lacking in good judgment.” Moraine actually has to do with glaciers, not clueless people. Stop yawning!

I came across the word, “moraine” in my email because I’m such a dweeb that I actually subscribe to a couple of “word of the day” newsletter deals. (You always suspected this might be how I spent my time, but confirmation has now been provided.)

I’ve never even come in contact with a moraine (unlike a moron), let alone used it in a sentence and, no, you can’t “verbalize” this noun by saying, “I was morained on an island, but luckily I had my top five favorite things; Dove chocolate squares, flip flops (my children have begged me to stop saying thongs), iced tea, poetry by Mary Oliver, and Johnny Depp. Johnny Depp would be there just for the entertaining stories he could tell me when I’m not drinking, eating or reading.

What does the freaking word mean? I’m glad you asked!

Definition: A moraine is a “glacial deposit, ridge of rocks left at the sides and at the end of a glacier when it melts, also at the junction of two glaciers.”

As it turns out, there are several types of moraines; for instance, end, medial, terminal, ground, Veiki, and recessional. Given the reality or, if you prefer, possibility of global warming, it may be that we’ll all be using the word moraine as much as “credit,” both related to a meltdown. Within the framework of the meaning and this possibility of global warming we would be saying things like, “Man, I sure can see that terminal moraine clearly. Huh, terminal. That can’t be a good thing, can it?” (The answer is, “Nope. Not so much.”)

They often say that science and literature do not go hand in hand (I don’t know who “they” are and I’m not sure why I’m bringing a metaphorical hand into the mix), but I guess I’ll leave you to the joy that is this geo-vocab-u-licious moment. Let us savor it. Salud!

RE: The Technology Shuffle, PART III, a humor column work-in-progress

February 11, 2010

Please do see Parts I and II of this "baby" humor column that will crawl, toddle, walk and then run, developing into a mature, fully grown, adult piece of writing that we can all be proud of. And on we go to Part III of my work-in-progress. A little something I like to call:

“The Technology Shuffle" – Part III

…suffers at the hands of technology’s relentless imperative to MULTI-TASK!

Our kids are actually multi-taskers extraordinaires, something we’ve learned to do, focus being a more highly valued attribute during our formative years. Then as we grew into young adults, with our own offspring, we wanted it all, baby, so we found that if we just focused on one thing at a time that is all we would get done and we certainly couldn’t have that!

God forbid that someone should ask you, “What did you do today?” to which you would reply, “I went to the grocery store.” Your conversational partner would be aghast replying with, “That’s it? Just the store? Nothing else? Huh!”

We did it all and now we’re tired and many of us would love the absolute luxury of simply focusing on one thing at a time, but the bar has been raised and unless we want to spend all of our time at the local bar, drowning our sorrows over it, we must keep up with the proverbial Joneses on this “having it all, doing it all” deal.

This, however, is not a problem with our children because they have embraced multi-tasking and the technology that supports it with a vengeance. The challenge comes in when we realize we’re supposed to…

TO BE CONTINUED...

The Ultimate Coffee Klatch...humor column about the benefits of caffeine

February 7, 2010

The Ultimate Coffee Klatch

As someone who is always looking at the healthful potential of any given product, recently I read an article that really made my tail wag. The headline boldly and pungently announced, "Wake Up and Smell Health Benefits of Fresh Coffee." May I say, as an avid consumer of strongly brewed, robust coffee products, I was truly excited to learn I’d been contributing positively to my own health.

It seems that this group’s findings confirmed that not only is the aroma of freshly brewed coffee pleasant, but when exuding those “yummy, your fix is on its way” fumes, it’s also exuding those precious antioxidants that we are all running around, attempting to corral for our greater good. I can finally put together that antioxidant breakfast of champions: blueberries, dark chocolate and coffee.

Apparently you not only need to smell the stuff to get the full benefit, but drink it too. May I tell you the excitement that this caffeine addict feels over this particular finding? As I read on I learned that antioxidants work by helping to block some of the undesirable effects of oxygen on living tissue. Good thing. I’m so out of the loop I was still under the impression that oxygen was always good for living tissue. Fortunately, I knew intrinsically that I needed to counteract the bad effects of oxygen with the good effects of caffeine ingestion. I'm now thinking that maybe I should spread coffee all over my face because I've certainly got some undesirable things going on with that living tissue as it ages.

And while this study certainly garnered a great deal of attention from me, it got me thinking about how these folks get the money to fund these studies. I mean, talk about your dream job. Granted, the gentleman who put together the study and surveyed its participants had some pretty impressive credentials, he being a Professor of Environmental Toxicology at UC Davis. While that title represents a fair amount of schooling, how the heck did it translate into Java Maven? Can you imagine how this pre-research scenario played out?

Picture two science guys, Lab Partner and Professor Guy, sitting around in white lab coats, trying to come up with next year's research project and the attendant funding.

Professor Guy might say, "No, no. Saving the earth's resources has been done to death. We need something new, something exciting." (Slurping sounds heard, as he lifts his University of California Davis monogrammed mug full of steaming coffee to his lips, contemplating a profitable project.)

Lab Partner: "Well, how about the consequences of the diminishing ozone layer on infants in their open air strollers and the skin's inability to manufacture ample melatonin to combat the possibility of skin cancer by the time the child reaches adulthood?" (Insert sound of liquid being poured as he completes his walk across the room to pour himself another cup of hot joe after which he begins his long journey back across the room, pot in hand.)

Professor Guy: "Darn it, man, no! We need something special," he exclaims, accepting the proffered second cup of French Roast from his research buddy. "Wait a minute, I've got it!" he shouts as he stares at his coffee cup, only just now noticing that it's not an appendage, but a receptacle that can be successfully balanced on any flat surface.

Lab Partner: "What did you get? The chipped cup again? Sorry. I thought I'd thrown that danged thing away."

Professor Guy: "No, you idiot! We'll study caffeine as it relates to antioxidants which will combat the negative effects of oxygen on living tissue."

They both laugh uproariously for a full five minutes at the absurdity of it all and then Professor Guy and the Lab Partner exchange meaningful looks as they simultaneously drain the last few drops of the pungent, slightly sweetened offering from the bottom of their respective cups. The room is still. Professor Guy picks up a pen.

"Dear Folgers..."

Here's the link to The Union where this article ran today:

http://www.theunion.com/article/20100207/OPINION/100209828/1066&ParentProfile=1053