All Glory Is Fleeting

Why is it that athletes get all the glory?  Not being too athletically inclined I've wondered about this much of my life.  Now that I have school aged children, I am once again reminded of the importance placed on winning at sports, in school.

I have a son in grade school who plays basketball in a no-cut school sponsored sports program.  He is a short guy with big elbows and knees.  A hangman-like figure on the court.  There are four boy's teams from his grade.  He is an average player on an average team.  I'm not even certain what the team's win-loss record is for the season.  The best team from his grade had their tournament win published in the local paper.

I have a son in high school.  He made the no-cut golf team.  He didn't make the basketball team and didn't try for wrestling.  The wrestling team won at the state championships.  The girls basketball team is battling for placement among the top three in its class at the state level.  Because of this, the entire school was given a free day, ostensibly so the students could go to the game to cheer on the team. 

These athletes work hard.  They get to school early and stay late working on their skills.  They learn discipline and team work, all valuable skills for the real world.  My question is why are they singled out and so handsomely rewarded?

The math team at my older son's school won a state competition.  The school didn't get a free day.  My younger son and some classmates won a geography competition.  It wasn't written about in the local paper.  These students work hard too.  It takes discipline and dedication to study long hours.  It is true that it isn't very exciting to watch someone study.  Academic competitions aren't televised.  Their participants don't land (multi) million dollar contracts to play on T.V.  Remember, however, they find cures for illnesses, write novels that keep us entertained, and invent the things that allow us to watch sports on our big screen televisions.

Jennifer Beals, The L Word & Me

I'll admit it.  It's my dirty little secret (along with reading People Magazine & cheap mysteries).  I'm a fan of The L Word.  For the uninitiated, this is a series about lesbians on Showtime billed as a drama.  It's really a soap opera. 

I've never been a fan of soap operas because the plots are usually so outrageous that I can't by into the story at all.  The same is true on this show.  In the five years that the show has aired, (as in any soap worth it's salt) just about every major character has had a personality transplant.  There is no story continuity at all.  Characters are introduced one season, only to be forgotten about the next season (or even episode).  So, I haven't bought into the story.

So why, year after year do I keep watching?  Two words.  Jennifer Beals.  She is ostensibly the star of this ensemble along with Pam Grier. (Yes, Foxy Brown herself plays Beals' sister in the show).  I never saw Flashdance or any of her other movies.  I was surprised she was as good as she is in the series.  So if her acting isn't stellar every episode why continue?  I watch to check out her clothes and hair.

Quite simply I want to be Jennifer Beals.  She and I are approximately the same age, however she looks younger now than in 1983.  I am certain that she must have a painting in her attic somewhere that looks like ass.  Physically, she is in amazing shape.  I'd like to think that most of it was obtained  without the aid of plastic surgery, because, unlike some other actresses, she still looks like herself. 

This gives me hope that maybe, just maybe with a little work, I could have her arms. I'll never be 5'10" and a knock out.  But a gal can watch every week and dream.

 

I'll Show You Mine, If You Show Me Yours

Everyone has web sites they visit on a regular basis.  I've found that these are as varied as the individuals who use them regularly.  Now I know that many people are reluctant to post, but sharing your favorite (or even not so favorite) web sites can really  introduce others to things they may not have been previously aware.  So come on, don't be shy (or lazy) post your favorites (or not favorites).

Here is a list of 5 web sites, in alphabetical order, I visit on a daily basis:

Del.icio.us - A social bookmarks manager

Digg - A place for people to discover and share content from anywhere on the web.

Last.fm - The Social Music Revolution

Lifehacker - Tips and Downloads for Getting Things Done

Television Without Pity - Television Shows, Episodes and Re-Caps

I had to add one more for good measure: 

Newsvine - Open Source Community News Service

Go Green!

 

 

Here is a web site dedicated to helping people go green.  Check it out and do your part for the planet:

Tree Hugger

Sweet Home, Chicago

 

 

I was born and raised in the city.  My city.  I love the way the city looks, feels and yes, even smells.

I think having been raised there has given me an extra edge.  I can seemingly not look at someone, yet take them in completely.  I can walk at an unreasonable pace without having anywhere important to go.  I have waited at bus stops, in 10 below temperatures, wearing a skirt believing this was normal behavior.  I have gone to beaches littered with trash and dead ale-wives.  I have inhaled car and bus exhaust on 90 degree days.  I cannot fall asleep without noise in my bedroom.

I grew up in four flat. When I was a child, I could lean out of my bedroom window and if I stretched a bit, I could touch the building next door.  Luckily we were friends with the people on the bedroom side of the building. 

My universe did not extend much beyond our block.  We played baseball in the empty lot in the middle of the block.  We had three bases in that lot which was about 35 feet wide.  We played hockey in the alley and tag football in the street.  The only basketball hoop was at a park 5 blocks away. The four corners of the south end of the block consisted of three taverns and a Catholic school.  I never thought this odd.  Still don't.

People were on the move all the time.  There was a certain rhythm:  cars doors opening and closing at all hours, engines back firing, people shouting.  The street lights were bright, gave off an orange glow and when they turned on at dusk were our signal that it was time to go home, or be embarrassed by your mom shouting your name out the window. 

On summer evenings adults got together on the front porch at one end of the block or the other depending on, I'm not sure what.  They talked, smoked and drank beer (for the men) and rum & coke (for the ladies).  Everyone got up early and went to work the next day and sat out again the next night, all summer long.  You knew it was really hot when somebody opened the fire hydrant and 50 adults and children ran through the geyser, until the fire department came and shut it off.  Didn't everyone cool off this way?

I grew up, got married and introduced my suburban husband to the ways of city life.  Then something happened.  We wanted to buy a house.  We made the big step and bought a bungalow in the suburbs.  Then we had a baby and then another.  We bought a bigger house in a bigger suburb close to my husband's job and even farther from the city. 

My children have never waited at a bus stop,  they have never been to a dirty beach or sweltered on public transportation.  At night their rooms are dark and deadly quiet.  We don't have an alley and they don't play in the street.  I'm not sure they know what a tavern looks like and they most certainly have never seen an open, spewing fire hydrant.

They don't know what they've missed.  I do and it makes me sad.

 

White Sale, Anyone?

I woke up yesterday and my hair was too long.  It looked just fine two days ago; in fact three days ago I thought it looked just perfect.  Now it has no style and I have to get it cut.  How does that happen?

Like an adolescent who goes to bed and wakes up 2 inches taller, I must be growing in my sleep.  Unfortunately my growth is not horizontal, but vertical.  Today, my underwear didn't fit.  Odd, I know, but true.  Of course, being raised to think that suffering can be an enhancement to life, I left them on.  I reasoned that the tight band around my mid-section might lead me away from overindulging or even indulging.  I must have a high pain tolerance.

I wish I could blame sleep eating.  A cousin to sleep walking, sleep eating isn't as openly discussed as it's better known relative.  I never find crumbs in my bed or half-eaten sweets on the kitchen counter in the morning.  My problem is simply, eating.  I do it too often with too much gusto.

Since the calendar still reads January, I promise henceforth to pay attention to how much I eat.  I promise to eat healthy food in moderate portions.  Maybe by June I will have shed a few pounds and then my undergarments will slide right into place. 

Isn't June the month for white sales?  Or is that May?

 

 

50 Simple Tips From A Year of Green Living

Here is an intersting article to start the New Year and reduce some waste. Chicago Tribune's Home & Garden tips for real people who want to do better for the environment.

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