Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Obama the Great

According to NPR (that's National Public Rado) some in the homeland of Barack Obama's father, Kenya, are already calling him Obama the Great. Well, I don't know if we can say that yet, but I am full of hope.

I'm not used to this feeling. Watching all the inauguration pomp and circumstance today, more than once I found myself verklepmt. Remember Mike Myers as Linda Richman in Coffee Talk on Saturday Night Life? He portrayed a Jewish mom with a talk show, and when he/she became too choked up to continue talking, he would apologize for being verklempt and say, talk amongst yourselves, here's a topic: Barack Obama is great. Discuss.

My eyes watered. I nearly cried. Which would have been embarassing -- I was at work, where I am a known victim of stress and taker of anti-anxiety meds. Had I broken down crying, I'm sure I would have found myself in the looney bin -- if they send people to the looney bin any more. One flew over the sparrows nest, in my case.

As far as I can remember, I do not think I have ever had the experience of having my presidential candidate actually be sworn in. Until today. I did not vote for Reagan. I wanted Dole -- he never made it. I wanted McCain -- not this last time but some other time. I voted for Gore. I voted for Kerry. There may have been a time or two when I didn't vote out of frustration of ever seeing my vote mean anything.

Today I experienced something new -- the guy I voted for walking up Pennsylvania Avenue. My first reaction, after the near tears, was to think: What the hell are you doing? Get back in the bullet-proof car! Don't risk this now! There are nutballs in this country who hate you. Because of your skin color. Because your dad was "foreign." Because you're a laywer. Because you're a Democrat. Because your middle name is different.

So here I sit, full of hope. It's a good feeling. It's better than I've felt in a really, long time.

Monday, January 12, 2009

I'm Feeling WAA Today

WAA -- It stands for "I am really feeling my Weight (over) my Age (higher every day) and my Arthritis (yes, I have it already) today.

It's a nasty combo. My arthritis makes me ache, so I don't want to exercise. Which makes my weight worse. I need to exercise to get my weight under control. And my age makes me not want to wear anything sold as exercise wear -- jog bras, spandex pants, whatever. The only thing I will wear is my husband's sweat pants (too big yes, but they stay up, so what does that say about MY size) and perferably his t-shirt (ditto).

All together, I am a LOVELY sight. And when I strap the leash onto my overweight dog and try to take him for a drag around the block, I can only imagine the thoughts of people driving by: "Oh my -- that poor woman. Where did she get those clothes? The Rags 'R Us discount bin? And, holy crap! Is that a pig with a fur coat on? Look at the size of that dog! They must sit and eat bon bons together while watching reruns of Lassie."

Or something like that.

I could start in my basement. We have a weight machine and something called the "Gazelle." This is an exercise implement my father-in-law bought and then handed off to us. You basically balance on the foot pads, swing your legs and arms in a kind of rowing fashion and melt off the pounds -- IF you can stay aboard. The first time I attempted to "Gazelle" I propelled myself off the "Gazelle" and nearly broke my teeth on the basement floor.

WAA WAA WAA WAA WAA WAA