Wednesday, June 30, 2004
Steps
As everyone, well, on earth is aware, McDonald's has a new item on its menu, the "Go Active! Adult Happy Meal": A salad, a bottle of water, and a step-counter, which they call a stepometer. At the same time, there's been word -- maybe by a PR firm hired by McDonald's, who knows? -- that people who walk more than 10,000 steps per day have healthier hearts & lower body fat (or something nice-sounding like that). Being a little soft around the middle, I have had my little heart set on obtaining one of those step-counters since I found out about the promotion. And, since I walk a lot anyway, I would like to finally receive the credit I am due for the number of steps I walk without even trying.
I do own a pedometer, but I never could set it up right. You have to walk 10 steps, measure that in centimeters, divide by 10 & then enter your average step-length into the machine. It then calculates the distance you have walked by multiplying that average by the number of steps you have taken. Fine. Simple enough, right?
Oh, but, when I tried it, the stakes seemed too high: Am I walking at a normal pace? Are my steps really that long? Should I err on the side of saying my steps are longer than they are so that I know I am always walking a little further than the machine says I am, or is it the other way around?
Plus, my apartment is too small to take 10 steps in a straight line & I found myself curbing my step size so that I would stop just when I got to the end of my living room. I could walk the same distance in 8 steps, but was I forcing? I couldn't tell. Walking fewer steps & dividing by that number is obviously not as accurate & I don't have centimeters on my yard stick, I discovered, anyway.
But, counting. Counting steps. It's simple. It's objective. No need to rely on the law of averages. No need to worry about overall distance; knowing the number of steps is enough. And, a step-counter is available at McDonald's. And, there are at least 35,482 McDonald's (how do you pluralize that?) in Manhattan alone.
Now, let me make an admission: I tried counting my own steps once while walking to 59th & Lex to meet a friend, just to get an idea of how many steps are on a block. I then figured I could roughly calculate my steps based on the number of blocks I walked. It doesn't work.
So, last night, I found myself at the food court of the Queens Mall & there was a McDonald's right there in the corner next to Sarku, where I had already ordered a plate full of what turned out to be the worst Japanese food in the world. I watched the people in line at McDonald's. I saw the promotional posters with bright-colored pictures of the spring water, the premium salad, the stepometer.
I wanted that stepometer, that counter, that simple, beautiful machine that would put my curiosity to rest, that would motivate me to lose 10 pounds and one dress size before my sister's wedding. Could I, I asked the cashier, purchase a stepometer & forgoe the salad & water? For $3.25, it turned out I could.
The McDonald's stepometer is a small, blue plastic device with the arches etched onto the front & the words "Go Active" in red italics on the cover. It comes with a pocket-sized fitness book, "Step With It" by Bob Greene, apparently Oprah's personal trainer, which does indeed promote walking 10,000 steps per day for better health.
The instructions for using the stepometer are simple: You clip it on your belt buckle or waistband, reset the counter to zero & get moving.
A short walk from the garbage can where I threw out the plastic bag which came with the stepometer to the escalator yielded 358 steps. Closing the protective cover of the stepometer after resetting it to zero yielded five. From what I can tell there are little balls inside the stepometer that are propelled forward every time you take a step, causing the counter to advance...by tens or fives or hundreds. I tried wearing it backwards with the same results.
Simply put, the thing is a piece of garbage. But, at least my appetite has been assuaged & my lesson has been learned.
Now, I'm going to check to see if my tape measure measures in centimeters.
--m
|
As everyone, well, on earth is aware, McDonald's has a new item on its menu, the "Go Active! Adult Happy Meal": A salad, a bottle of water, and a step-counter, which they call a stepometer. At the same time, there's been word -- maybe by a PR firm hired by McDonald's, who knows? -- that people who walk more than 10,000 steps per day have healthier hearts & lower body fat (or something nice-sounding like that). Being a little soft around the middle, I have had my little heart set on obtaining one of those step-counters since I found out about the promotion. And, since I walk a lot anyway, I would like to finally receive the credit I am due for the number of steps I walk without even trying.
I do own a pedometer, but I never could set it up right. You have to walk 10 steps, measure that in centimeters, divide by 10 & then enter your average step-length into the machine. It then calculates the distance you have walked by multiplying that average by the number of steps you have taken. Fine. Simple enough, right?
Oh, but, when I tried it, the stakes seemed too high: Am I walking at a normal pace? Are my steps really that long? Should I err on the side of saying my steps are longer than they are so that I know I am always walking a little further than the machine says I am, or is it the other way around?
Plus, my apartment is too small to take 10 steps in a straight line & I found myself curbing my step size so that I would stop just when I got to the end of my living room. I could walk the same distance in 8 steps, but was I forcing? I couldn't tell. Walking fewer steps & dividing by that number is obviously not as accurate & I don't have centimeters on my yard stick, I discovered, anyway.
But, counting. Counting steps. It's simple. It's objective. No need to rely on the law of averages. No need to worry about overall distance; knowing the number of steps is enough. And, a step-counter is available at McDonald's. And, there are at least 35,482 McDonald's (how do you pluralize that?) in Manhattan alone.
Now, let me make an admission: I tried counting my own steps once while walking to 59th & Lex to meet a friend, just to get an idea of how many steps are on a block. I then figured I could roughly calculate my steps based on the number of blocks I walked. It doesn't work.
So, last night, I found myself at the food court of the Queens Mall & there was a McDonald's right there in the corner next to Sarku, where I had already ordered a plate full of what turned out to be the worst Japanese food in the world. I watched the people in line at McDonald's. I saw the promotional posters with bright-colored pictures of the spring water, the premium salad, the stepometer.
I wanted that stepometer, that counter, that simple, beautiful machine that would put my curiosity to rest, that would motivate me to lose 10 pounds and one dress size before my sister's wedding. Could I, I asked the cashier, purchase a stepometer & forgoe the salad & water? For $3.25, it turned out I could.
The McDonald's stepometer is a small, blue plastic device with the arches etched onto the front & the words "Go Active" in red italics on the cover. It comes with a pocket-sized fitness book, "Step With It" by Bob Greene, apparently Oprah's personal trainer, which does indeed promote walking 10,000 steps per day for better health.
The instructions for using the stepometer are simple: You clip it on your belt buckle or waistband, reset the counter to zero & get moving.
A short walk from the garbage can where I threw out the plastic bag which came with the stepometer to the escalator yielded 358 steps. Closing the protective cover of the stepometer after resetting it to zero yielded five. From what I can tell there are little balls inside the stepometer that are propelled forward every time you take a step, causing the counter to advance...by tens or fives or hundreds. I tried wearing it backwards with the same results.
Simply put, the thing is a piece of garbage. But, at least my appetite has been assuaged & my lesson has been learned.
Now, I'm going to check to see if my tape measure measures in centimeters.
--m
Tuesday, June 29, 2004
Let's dance.
|
Sunday, June 20, 2004
From my father, I inherited my facial bone structure, first of all. I also have his corporal bone structure -- the female version. There is also this thing my dad does with his mouth. He sort of hangs his mouth open, and I've seen myself do it in pictures.
He was a surfer when he was a teenager. He used to go to the beach & put peroxide in his hair until it turned orange. He didn't tell his parents; he said they probably just thought it was from the sun.
When we were small, he sometimes took us for a drive, especially in Ft. Pierce when we visited our grandparents. He would drive us down to the jetty & we would either go fishing or we would ask the fisherman about their catches. We would walk all the way to the end of the jetty & I always imagined that there were sharks and even whales out there. It was probably not that far out. I'd love to see it now.
Sometimes, he took us to the beach to swim. He would rinse his feet off in the little shower on the boardwalk.
Sometimes, he would swim with us in the pool in the apartment (we called it the "department" to be funny) where he lived after my parents' separation. He kept his contact lenses in when he swam even as he told us he wasn't supposed to.
One quality of my dad's is that he is a bit of a rebel. He used to drive really fast over this bump in Ft. Pierce so that our stomachs would jump up & drop & we would all scream. Sometimes, he would drive over it more than once if we could convince him.
He also likes to eat raw beef. I know it's gross, but he does it because he knows he's not supposed to. It's that rebel quality. He's been told not to eat raw beef, but nothing bad has ever happened to him because of it, so he eats it to prove the rules wrong.
My father also loves to be alone, well, not alone, but in the safety of only those closest to him. He clings to his wife & his immediate family -- especially his wife. He doesn't like to let others in. He doesn't like to keep the blinds open in the house. He likes privacy because it makes him feel safe.
He also fights this urge. His wife is very out-going, one of the most extroverted people I have ever met, and she has many, many friends. I think he likes having people around even though they scare him. I think I inherited both the need for security & the fight against that tendency to close off from him.
My father can also be very racist & anti-semitic. Sometimes, I can't believe he really is that way, but then he'll say or do something over-the-top, like making fun of people in Central Park for not speaking English, and I will be reminded. He has also always been very right wing, except for gay rights. Because of his wife, whose uncle is gay & whose family accepts him, he is pro-gay. In the 20 years they've been together, she has turned him around on that issue. (Also, of course, all of "mainstream America" has turned around to some extent, ever since Clinton).
I sometimes wonder if I am so "left" as a reaction to my father being so "right." I actually don't know why I am the way I am politically & why he is how he is. Sometimes, I think it's his generation, but a lot of people from his generation are much more progressive than he is. I don't feel like I'm a product of my family when it comes to politics, but I might be, right? Either way, it seems like my father & I are the only ones who have strong political views at all -- or maybe we're just the only ones who express them.
My father has a tendency to be overly critical & harsh. He can be a perfectionist & a control freak. I can also have these tendencies, as proven by my relationship with my last roommate.
Let's see. What else? My father has a very dark tan because he's always spent a lot of time in the sun. He loves to play word games & always thinks of different names for my friends -- names that rhyme or sound similar, or something. Maybe it's his sarcastic sense of humor.
He is smart & knows a lot about history, facts, geography, sports trivia (don't a lot of men?), etc. He gets up very early (5?) every morning & reads the newspaper while drinking his cup of instant coffee & smoking his morning cigarettes. He has been a smoker since he was a teenager. He likes to drink Miller Light beer.
My father is very meticulous about the condition of things. His home is always in very good repair. If so much as a light bulb burns out, it will be replaced immediately. His lawn is always mown, raked, trimmed, etc. He keeps up with things very well, probably pays all his bills on time & has excellent credit.
My father can come off as being very rude to people -- strangers & family members alike. He hates his mother. Well, he doesn't hate her but he can't stand to be around her & has to force himself to be nice to her. He reads a lot, mostly if not solely, popular fiction. He likes to fish. I don't think he believes in God or religion.
His children are his life, as he has been a father for almost 32 years.
-m
|
He was a surfer when he was a teenager. He used to go to the beach & put peroxide in his hair until it turned orange. He didn't tell his parents; he said they probably just thought it was from the sun.
When we were small, he sometimes took us for a drive, especially in Ft. Pierce when we visited our grandparents. He would drive us down to the jetty & we would either go fishing or we would ask the fisherman about their catches. We would walk all the way to the end of the jetty & I always imagined that there were sharks and even whales out there. It was probably not that far out. I'd love to see it now.
Sometimes, he took us to the beach to swim. He would rinse his feet off in the little shower on the boardwalk.
Sometimes, he would swim with us in the pool in the apartment (we called it the "department" to be funny) where he lived after my parents' separation. He kept his contact lenses in when he swam even as he told us he wasn't supposed to.
One quality of my dad's is that he is a bit of a rebel. He used to drive really fast over this bump in Ft. Pierce so that our stomachs would jump up & drop & we would all scream. Sometimes, he would drive over it more than once if we could convince him.
He also likes to eat raw beef. I know it's gross, but he does it because he knows he's not supposed to. It's that rebel quality. He's been told not to eat raw beef, but nothing bad has ever happened to him because of it, so he eats it to prove the rules wrong.
My father also loves to be alone, well, not alone, but in the safety of only those closest to him. He clings to his wife & his immediate family -- especially his wife. He doesn't like to let others in. He doesn't like to keep the blinds open in the house. He likes privacy because it makes him feel safe.
He also fights this urge. His wife is very out-going, one of the most extroverted people I have ever met, and she has many, many friends. I think he likes having people around even though they scare him. I think I inherited both the need for security & the fight against that tendency to close off from him.
My father can also be very racist & anti-semitic. Sometimes, I can't believe he really is that way, but then he'll say or do something over-the-top, like making fun of people in Central Park for not speaking English, and I will be reminded. He has also always been very right wing, except for gay rights. Because of his wife, whose uncle is gay & whose family accepts him, he is pro-gay. In the 20 years they've been together, she has turned him around on that issue. (Also, of course, all of "mainstream America" has turned around to some extent, ever since Clinton).
I sometimes wonder if I am so "left" as a reaction to my father being so "right." I actually don't know why I am the way I am politically & why he is how he is. Sometimes, I think it's his generation, but a lot of people from his generation are much more progressive than he is. I don't feel like I'm a product of my family when it comes to politics, but I might be, right? Either way, it seems like my father & I are the only ones who have strong political views at all -- or maybe we're just the only ones who express them.
My father has a tendency to be overly critical & harsh. He can be a perfectionist & a control freak. I can also have these tendencies, as proven by my relationship with my last roommate.
Let's see. What else? My father has a very dark tan because he's always spent a lot of time in the sun. He loves to play word games & always thinks of different names for my friends -- names that rhyme or sound similar, or something. Maybe it's his sarcastic sense of humor.
He is smart & knows a lot about history, facts, geography, sports trivia (don't a lot of men?), etc. He gets up very early (5?) every morning & reads the newspaper while drinking his cup of instant coffee & smoking his morning cigarettes. He has been a smoker since he was a teenager. He likes to drink Miller Light beer.
My father is very meticulous about the condition of things. His home is always in very good repair. If so much as a light bulb burns out, it will be replaced immediately. His lawn is always mown, raked, trimmed, etc. He keeps up with things very well, probably pays all his bills on time & has excellent credit.
My father can come off as being very rude to people -- strangers & family members alike. He hates his mother. Well, he doesn't hate her but he can't stand to be around her & has to force himself to be nice to her. He reads a lot, mostly if not solely, popular fiction. He likes to fish. I don't think he believes in God or religion.
His children are his life, as he has been a father for almost 32 years.
-m
Tuesday, June 08, 2004
Hail the Control Freak
I think my boss is, over all, a swell human being. She's smart, kind, reliable, competant, etc. She's an interesting person with things going on in her life. She reads interesting books. She hangs out with her nieces and nephews. She sees shows. She travels.
What's the trouble, then?
She NEVER STOPS WORKING. For example, right now, she is supposedly in Arizona enjoying the dry air and sunshine with friends & she is checking her e-mails and replying to them. She is doing this even though she told me to check her e-mails and reply to them & even though I have been doing that.
Why doesn't she just go swimming?
I have always had this problem with her. She tells you to do something and then either does it herself 5 minutes later or asks you 13 times to do it (not whether it has been done already but to do it).
Very annoying.
--m
|
I think my boss is, over all, a swell human being. She's smart, kind, reliable, competant, etc. She's an interesting person with things going on in her life. She reads interesting books. She hangs out with her nieces and nephews. She sees shows. She travels.
What's the trouble, then?
She NEVER STOPS WORKING. For example, right now, she is supposedly in Arizona enjoying the dry air and sunshine with friends & she is checking her e-mails and replying to them. She is doing this even though she told me to check her e-mails and reply to them & even though I have been doing that.
Why doesn't she just go swimming?
I have always had this problem with her. She tells you to do something and then either does it herself 5 minutes later or asks you 13 times to do it (not whether it has been done already but to do it).
Very annoying.
--m
Friday, June 04, 2004
Benjamin, my friend Dan's son, was born last night at 11:30 pm. He weighs 10 pounds. He is 21 inches long.
I forgot to ask if he has hair, who he looks like, etc.
But, I might meet him tomorrow.
Dan said as soon as he was born (c-section since he's so big), they cleaned him off & handed him to Dan to hold. Dan said he felt bad because Benjamin was shivering. I guess, if you think about it, there would be quite a temperature drop.
Dan's son. I love saying that. Dan's son. His son.
-m
|
I forgot to ask if he has hair, who he looks like, etc.
But, I might meet him tomorrow.
Dan said as soon as he was born (c-section since he's so big), they cleaned him off & handed him to Dan to hold. Dan said he felt bad because Benjamin was shivering. I guess, if you think about it, there would be quite a temperature drop.
Dan's son. I love saying that. Dan's son. His son.
-m
Thursday, June 03, 2004
Now That Stephen is 30
Stephen is 1 1/2 months older than I am. So, every year when it hits his birthday, mine is just around the corner.
Except, this year, I forgot. I didn't remember it was June 1st until I checked his blog on June 2nd & saw that he mentioned his birthday celebration the night before.
Ever since my last birthday, I have been slowly adjusting to the fact that I am turning 30. Me! I am 30. I have started to make the mental shift of thinking of myself as "30ish" or "30-something-ish" instead of thinking of myself as being in my 20's.
When I told my mom Joe was moving in (which he did last weekend), she said, "Well, you're 30, so you can do whatever you want now."
30.
Like everyone else, I always thought that by 30 I would be mature & wise & if not wealthy then financially comfortable. I thought I would have graduated from grad school by now, travelled, published at least one piece of fiction (even a short story). I thought maybe I'd own a home or have a baby or all those other things people do by the time they're 30.
I thought I'd feel like a woman, but I still feel like a girl in so many ways. I still don't quite feel like what I thought an "adult" feels like.
But, then again, I do feel like an adult.
Anyway, I have 6 weeks and 2 days to do everything I thought I'd do before 30.
-m
|
Stephen is 1 1/2 months older than I am. So, every year when it hits his birthday, mine is just around the corner.
Except, this year, I forgot. I didn't remember it was June 1st until I checked his blog on June 2nd & saw that he mentioned his birthday celebration the night before.
Ever since my last birthday, I have been slowly adjusting to the fact that I am turning 30. Me! I am 30. I have started to make the mental shift of thinking of myself as "30ish" or "30-something-ish" instead of thinking of myself as being in my 20's.
When I told my mom Joe was moving in (which he did last weekend), she said, "Well, you're 30, so you can do whatever you want now."
30.
Like everyone else, I always thought that by 30 I would be mature & wise & if not wealthy then financially comfortable. I thought I would have graduated from grad school by now, travelled, published at least one piece of fiction (even a short story). I thought maybe I'd own a home or have a baby or all those other things people do by the time they're 30.
I thought I'd feel like a woman, but I still feel like a girl in so many ways. I still don't quite feel like what I thought an "adult" feels like.
But, then again, I do feel like an adult.
Anyway, I have 6 weeks and 2 days to do everything I thought I'd do before 30.
-m
