Black Ice; An Ode to my Puffer Jacket.

My dad brought a bit of the Beijing Olympics into our house this summer. Every now and again, he would enter the kitchen pour himself a cup of coffee and stick the landing-- In celebration of the most cursory of activities, he’d assume the arms-up-feet-together-huge-grin pose that occurs at the end of every successful gymnastic apparatus event in Serious Competition.

Last week, vulnerable from a the deadly combination of a exhaustion with a relentless work schedule, targeted by the cunning black ice that lines Boston’s sidewalks, I lost my sense of balance. For three straight days last week, I found myself completely sprawled on the various sidewalks as a result from serious, full-body-commitment falls.

Day One (Tuesday- a New Day in America): The New Day in America turned out to be not a good day for this blogger. Upon my first step onto my apartment building’s landing, my foot skidded on black ice and I proceeded to engage in a slow motion fall down the three steps that separate my landing from the sidewalk. My lower back slammed back into the bottom step and I sat, stunned, on the sidewalk for a solid two uncomfortable, cold minutes before I fully processed what had happened.

Difficulty: 8
Execution: 2
Overall Score: SUCK. Serious, nasty bruise on left arm. Backache for entirety of New Day in America.
Landing: Not even close. What my dad would look like if he actually tried to stick a gymnastic landing.

Day Two (Wednesday): Mid-way through the day I wrote a desperate email to a friend petitioning for a few hours of her time that evening to talk about anything BUT work-related topics/remember that I have friends despite my anti-social behavior of late. Obliging, she welcomed me with open arms and an open bottle of cabernet. As I navigated the two blocks of icy terrain that separate our apartments I found my self sliding, base-stealing style, into a full side sprawl on the sidewalk. From a 3rd party’s perspective, it may have appeared as if I got the sudden and urgent need to drop to the floor and do some Jane Fonda-style leg lifts. Rather than engage my adductors, I arose and walked home unscathed.

Difficulty:7
Execution: 6
Overall Score: Decent. Cabernet definitely helped soften the blow
Landing: Slight studder step. 2/10 deduction.

Day Three (Thursday): Exiting the ATM on a prominent street in my Neighborhood I took one step, then another and then upon the third my body dropped directly into seated, cross-legged pose (Indian style for the less politically correct among us). A bit surprised by the unprompted bodily surrender into the sidewalk, I was able to catch the glimpse of a concerned couple who were not expecting me to collapse right in front of them- and certainly not collapse with such bodily organization. Together, the three of us laughed it off and I was able to proceed on my way.

Difficulty: 9
Execution: 9
Overall Score: Awesome. My reign as champion faller is redeemed.
Landing: Mary Lou Retton would be proud.

Work Treadmill

My utter apologies to all. My world has been dominated by a hot mess of fiscal woes, commission seating and budget production. In other words, since New Years Day, my job has swallowed me whole and spat out a less interesting, creative and available shadow of myself.

A day in the life of this utterly lame Blogger:

6:00am Alarm: Proceed to engage in a three slam minimum of my fist with the snooze button.

7:00am Gym: Attempt to avoid the crazy lady that has decided that I am the recipient of her opinions regarding Sarah Palin’s awesomeness, the Mannings’ superiority on the football field and any other blanket statement with which I am certain to disagree and/or her loudly voiced disdain of me for not engaging her in her craziness. Jack ipod volume level as necessary.

8:30am Work. Answer 35 red-exclamation-point-marked emails that have infested my inbox in the past 12 hours.

8:55am Work. Briefly wonder what people send such emails at 2am. Assert that I am not impressed by their dedication to their work, rather totally unimpressed with their inability to properly time manage.

9:00am-1:30pm Work. CRISIS. Small victory. CRISIS CRISIS CRISIS.

1:30pm-2:00pm Work. Meet with one of many individuals/advocates/groups that believe that “Budget cuts are good. The fiscal climate is bad. Budget cuts are good…for everyone but me.”

2:00pm-5:00pm Work. CRISIS, chase down boss, make necessary adjustments. CRISIS.

5:00pm-7:30pm Work. Get work done that would have been handled during the work days were it not for multiple crises.

7:30pm-8:30pm Home. Drown about 2.5 glasses of wine and watch an episode of either the West Wing or Gossip Girl- the television juxtaposition that best reflects the duality of my two chief sources of news: The New York Times and US Weekly.

8:30pm Bed.


I’ll be back soon, homies, and I’ll no longer be restricted to talk about any of the aforementioned crises. Until then…

Brand Obama ©

Obamamania is out of control. As evidenced by many a blog posted here and blatant personal support of the conduct of the campaign, the proposed cabinet members (minus Gov. Richardson (sad)) and their global view of the role of the executive branch, I do not think that the dawn of Obama warrants dinner ware, gold plated coins and/or bobble head dolls. Our president elect still has 16 days until he is officially our commander in chief, and is slated to face an unprecedented fiscal crisis, as well as, an unbelievably destructive atmosphere in the very heart of the Middle East. He must handle both, of course, while maintaining atmospheric levels of expectations of him by a general electorate sickened by the past 8 years of outright executive mismanagement. Expectations, that evidently, have resulted in the mass production and marketing of almost bizarre first family merchandise, the likes of which rival that available to us screaming New Kids on the Block fans in the early nineties.

I find the foil of the merchandising of this president (driven, at least initially, by the brilliant minds that brought us the campaign that will change how politicking will be conducted forever) to the overall movement toward thrift in American’s compelling. Individual spending sank to a new low during the last holiday season as personal savings and responsibility for financial matters became the new black. It appears, perhaps, that the excessive lust for ‘stuff’ is starting to moderate with the incumbent presidency, just as that same incumbent president’s face is appearing on endless amounts of such non-essential stuff.

It’s true, we all want to be a part of history- and this election is the closest those in my generation have come to a truly historical era. Yet, the commemoration with random stuff is reflective of a period where our contribution to the American adventure could not be made; we were too busy distracting ourselves at the mall, buying stuff. I plan on holding onto the button that was fastened to my purse throughout the campaign, yet I do think that our leaders need to earn the privilege of having their faces on our coins.

I am fascinated (and terrified) to see what the first 100 days, year, term of President Obama will bring; not because I doubt him or his agenda, but because I am dubious of any sort of rapid change in the partisan behaviors foddered since the last genuinely American era- the cultural revolution of the 1960s. I want the public to support the president elect, not in purchasing idols from which to worship (and drink), but rather in active engagement in our democracy and shared responsibility for ensuring the future of our nation.

For the record, however, I do support keeping bobble heads.