The crystal chandeliers were just as stunning as I remember them from my very first visit to the Kennedy Center more than twenty years ago. The royal red carpet muffled every footstep that could possibly have echoed through the enormous, cavernous lobby. There are actually at least four--maybe five--theatres in the Kennedy Center, and I have made it a small goal to see something in all of them.
When I visited the Kennedy decades ago with my family, during what was arguably one of the coldest, windiest, and snowiest winters on record, I remember asking my parents, "Are we going to see anything here?" The theatre bug had bitten hard, even then. I was disappointed when I was roundly dismissed, citing money, time, attention span, and the presence of other members of my family as a reason for the dismissal.
Last night, my desire to be a part of a theatrical experience at the Kennedy was fulfilled. Better yet, I was privvy to a scaled-back (but still vocally spectacular) production of Ragtime, the Ahrens-Flaherty musical originally produced by Livent that eventually bankrupted a company. I was fortunate to have been able to see the show with the original Broadway cast in New York, fairly soon after the show opened. I had read the book in high school and been intrigued by the Robert Redford film, but basically, after I discovered a few other novels and a play by Doctrow that didn't live up to my expectations, I forgot about the entire story.
Years later, a friend of mine more connected to the NY theatre scene pulled me into his car and played me a couple of snippets of songs from the score. "Isn't that amazing?" he asked me. I was more than interested. I loved the lush, building melodies, the trained voices that knew how to sing and project, not just belt out a couple of "money notes;" and the idea that a real story was once again going to feature prominently in a Broadway musical (Chicago, anyone?) My friend quickly dubbed me a copy of the album, which I later learned featured the concept cast and show from when it was workshopped in Quebec. Still, I was hooked.
The chance to see the musical in its big, bold, lavish glory at the Ford theatre in New York was a thrill. The original cast--Marin Mazzie, Brian Stokes Mitchell, Audra McDonald--all became theatre-household names. The show was huge and powerful. The sets were gorgeous. The costumes were spot-on. The choreography was interesting and expressive. The wall of sound that hit me when the entire cast of 50 was onstage literally blew me away. It was one of the best musical experiences I have ever had. And those who know me know that I am first and foremost a critic. Most people won't go see anything with me for all of my nit-picking and "suggesting."
Then the tour came through Cincinnati. I convinced DH to see it with me again (he had also been present in NY--the tickets were his birthday present to me). And it was a complete disappointment. Sure there were good voices. The costumes still looked good. And Jim Corti, who played Harry Houdini in the original cast, was taking on the role of Tateh. But overall, it failed to move me in the way the original had. It was a tour. My expectations were low, and it didn't do much to meet them. I missed the glitz and glamour and the wall of sound.
Despite the setting, I was a little apprehensive entering the theatre last night. Would it be a NY or a Cincy show? Would I love it? I knew that it had been scaled back--30+ cast members instead of 50 (which makes sense), smaller sets, less-expensive production values. We are in a recession, after all.
Last night's show did not disappoint. The vocals were "slam-me-against-the-wall" powerful. The cast stayed in the moment and their pain, joy, and disbelief were palpable. The story was the same story, without the trappings of a full-scale Model-T onstage. I quickly accepted the conventions of the basically "unit" set and settled in to let the characters tell me their story. Christiane Noll did a fantastic job making the role of Mother her own. Quentin Earl Darrington had an intensity and vulnerability that I don't recall Brian Stokes Mitchell having. Jennlee Shallow (Sarah) had pipes that went on forever, and put the requisite "F" in "Your Daddy's Son" in exactly the right spot--I wish more of today's theatrical singers could do it as well, as balanced as she did. Manoel Felciano (Tateh) brought a humor and a humanity to Tateh that other actors I've seen simply didn't have. Christopher Cox's deadpan was funny, and he didn't appropriate what other young actors have done, whether on cast recordings or elsewhere.
I loved the way cast members "hung out" on upper levels of the multilevel set to watch, at once becoming part of the audience and acting as a Greek Chorus. I loved that the levels represented class structures at times, and parts of a house at others. It was very fluid.
There were a few missteps. Bobby Steggert (Mother's Younger Brother) had the pathos that the role requires in his voice, but not his face. His suit was much, much too big for him, and the age difference between him and Noll made it a little hard to swallow that he was her brother and not her son. Of course, I might be slightly biased. Steven Sutcliffe, who originated the role on Broadway and is featured on the cast album, owned the role, and the songs were probably written to suit his vocal range. I've never heard anyone do any of Mother's Younger Brother's songs better. Ever.
Tommy Hollis as Booker T. Washington had the fire in his soul, but it came in such a tiny package, it felt farcical. Some gray in his hair might have helped me suspend my disbelief that he was any older than 20.
The choreography was, as in the original, interesting and expressive. The music, the pit orchestra, the vocal--all phenomenal. The wall of sound was there (which made me wonder if the cast was singing with a tape double--which happens sometimes when shows have to cut back on personnel). The scrim behind the set was well-employed, as an artist's canvas on which to paint the emotion behind the words emanating from the stage. In a few spots, body mics didn't come up until characters started speaking or singing, which made the extent to which they were miced up very noticeable. But hopefully those kinks will be ironed out during the run.
In short, Ragtime is still powerful--as a story and as a musical. As performed by the cast at the Kennedy, directed by Marcia Milgrom Dodge, it is still a force to be reckoned with. Reduced? In number and size only. The sound and spirit of show are as big as they've ever been.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Friday, March 13, 2009
stuff's falling out
beware.
i like the phrase "smitten kitten." i don't remember the first place i heard it. it surfaced in my head last night while watching "Grey's" (or today while reading a recap on TVOP--yes, i do still read those, even though they are out of vogue with the hipsters now). holy parenthetical, batman.
speaking of, and i'm not going to bother with a spoiler alert because about 1.5 people read this blog (according to google stats, anyway) except for some random person in Etobicoke (seriously) who has returned after hitting me once, presumably on accident, the recent development on Grey's with Izzie brought me to this thought:
if brain cancer can cause hallucinations, can it cause hysterical (or empathic) hallucinations as well? that would explain much about my mid-to-late teenage years.
i tried to figure out a way to make that status-worthy during my traffic-laden commute this morning, but can up empty-handed.
and, on said commute, it occurred to me that leaving a camera in my car and snapping pics, then labeling pics with ironic captions and posting them, might give me something else to do besides wait for the light to turn green and feel guilty about checking fb and playing bubble breaker when i should be concentrating on driving. some chick next to me was putting on mascara this morning in the lane next to me. this one light cycle is so short, and it is the last of a series of four lights in a tiny stretch of road--it took more than three cycles to make it through today. hello yawn. i'm not good at idle. except when there's yoga or cake involved. or yoga with cake. that would be a fun new exercise class. but i'd gain weight instead of toning up. and who wants to clean up cake crumbs off of yoga mats.
i learned "fragging" is actually a word and not something Legion made up as a euphemism or substitute for another f-word or "freakin'." who knew. and yes, i posted that on my status yesterday, but nyeah, i thought it was worth repeating.
statuses (stati?) are hard to come up with now that curb girl pointed out that most people write about their children, their illness, their children's illness, or what they're eating. i would add "random song lyrics that somehow match what is going on in their lives" to that list. i would rather be original. so, no status as i am not original in the slightest while editing lessons on the Depression, Great.
i could use random words for my status and really f*ck with everyone. fun times. i might throw some random dico crap up there and see what sticks. i'm too lazy (and tired) to compose at the moment. i miss my piano. not that i'm composing on it--or ever have, except once in junior high, when i tried to write out something on manuscript paper and it took too freaking long and then i couldn't read my writing.
i am out of practice, journal-wise. i need the structure of wwfac.
weird dream about a past house that i actually never lived in. very gothic, lots of rooms, very cool, multipaneled fridge and deck and bar--not sure what any of it means except that we are starting to think about house hunting again.
fellas next to me are discussing how Jesus looks like John Brown in "found items" like scrambled eggs, mashed potatoes, etc. as in, "how do they see Jesus? why not John Brown or Darwin?"
back to work before I....
i like the phrase "smitten kitten." i don't remember the first place i heard it. it surfaced in my head last night while watching "Grey's" (or today while reading a recap on TVOP--yes, i do still read those, even though they are out of vogue with the hipsters now). holy parenthetical, batman.
speaking of, and i'm not going to bother with a spoiler alert because about 1.5 people read this blog (according to google stats, anyway) except for some random person in Etobicoke (seriously) who has returned after hitting me once, presumably on accident, the recent development on Grey's with Izzie brought me to this thought:
if brain cancer can cause hallucinations, can it cause hysterical (or empathic) hallucinations as well? that would explain much about my mid-to-late teenage years.
i tried to figure out a way to make that status-worthy during my traffic-laden commute this morning, but can up empty-handed.
and, on said commute, it occurred to me that leaving a camera in my car and snapping pics, then labeling pics with ironic captions and posting them, might give me something else to do besides wait for the light to turn green and feel guilty about checking fb and playing bubble breaker when i should be concentrating on driving. some chick next to me was putting on mascara this morning in the lane next to me. this one light cycle is so short, and it is the last of a series of four lights in a tiny stretch of road--it took more than three cycles to make it through today. hello yawn. i'm not good at idle. except when there's yoga or cake involved. or yoga with cake. that would be a fun new exercise class. but i'd gain weight instead of toning up. and who wants to clean up cake crumbs off of yoga mats.
i learned "fragging" is actually a word and not something Legion made up as a euphemism or substitute for another f-word or "freakin'." who knew. and yes, i posted that on my status yesterday, but nyeah, i thought it was worth repeating.
statuses (stati?) are hard to come up with now that curb girl pointed out that most people write about their children, their illness, their children's illness, or what they're eating. i would add "random song lyrics that somehow match what is going on in their lives" to that list. i would rather be original. so, no status as i am not original in the slightest while editing lessons on the Depression, Great.
i could use random words for my status and really f*ck with everyone. fun times. i might throw some random dico crap up there and see what sticks. i'm too lazy (and tired) to compose at the moment. i miss my piano. not that i'm composing on it--or ever have, except once in junior high, when i tried to write out something on manuscript paper and it took too freaking long and then i couldn't read my writing.
i am out of practice, journal-wise. i need the structure of wwfac.
weird dream about a past house that i actually never lived in. very gothic, lots of rooms, very cool, multipaneled fridge and deck and bar--not sure what any of it means except that we are starting to think about house hunting again.
fellas next to me are discussing how Jesus looks like John Brown in "found items" like scrambled eggs, mashed potatoes, etc. as in, "how do they see Jesus? why not John Brown or Darwin?"
back to work before I....
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
conspiracy
The universe is conspiring against me today. My Pandora channel has played two Barbra Streisand songs and one Neil Diamond (ack!) song--two of my mom's favorites. Then it moved on to musical theatre, where it's been for about two hours. And now I've got "Thank You for the Music" from Mamma Mia! which is what we sang at Leslie Knotts' retirement party.
I miss these two women. I know I do. But the universe doesn't have to keep reminding me.
I miss these two women. I know I do. But the universe doesn't have to keep reminding me.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
craving a cheesy burrito?
And, well, on little sleep, who isn't? I haven't seen a Taco Bell commercial in a while, but I stumbled upon this gem of a fake-you-out cheesy, meaty, burrito and indulged for dinner. Yum x 15. The site has some other good fake-outs, although the liberal use of sweeteners in the dessert section has me a little spooked. Still, who knew that brownie mix, pureed pumpkin and peanut butter could stand in for fudge?
Thursday, February 12, 2009
80s fellas say hey-ya
This made me giggle a little, until I got to the third video and they spelled "pecs" wrong.
Thursday, February 05, 2009
watching my language
DH actually asked me to watch my language around the kids. I guess all that swearing under my breath is not as under my breath as I thought. Oops. I haven't heard any of it directed back at me yet, thank god, but I'm sure that day is coming.
Nevermind that DH often shouts "Shut up _________!" from his side of the bed when we have put one or both of the kids back in their beds for the upteenth time and they won't stop screaming their heads off at 2 a.m. And I have heard "Shut up ______!" from at least one kid's mouth in the last month. I jumped on it, called it rude, etc., substituted language--but how much can I really jump on it when it's coming from a parent's mouth?
Modern parenting dilemmas.
I was treated to yet another episode of "Charmed" at the gym yesterday. At this point, I'm counting how many different hairstyles Alyssa Milano goes through. I think it's up to six. Yesterday she had bangs. And she was dressing a lot more conservatively--she had morphed from whatever she was, which required abdomen-baring clothing, to radio call-in host, which required more business-appropriate attire. One of the younger girls has now appropriated all of her abdomen-baring clothing.
I am learning all about Wikis for work, which has made me want to Wiki just about everything in my life, from grocery lists to recipes to recaps to blogs. Wiki overkill?
Someone in my office just posed a question about an ellipsis, and another editor said, "I had an ellipsis question earlier in the week too. I'm getting into these ellipses things. En-dashes and Em-dashes are so 2008."
Uproarious laughter all around. He's an Eagles fan. And spent some time in West Lafayette, IN, so we have bonded over Midwest snow horror stories. I am willing to forgive him the Eagles obsession because it is damned hard to be a Bengals fan in the middle of Ravens/Steelers territory.
Oops. I did it again.
Nevermind that DH often shouts "Shut up _________!" from his side of the bed when we have put one or both of the kids back in their beds for the upteenth time and they won't stop screaming their heads off at 2 a.m. And I have heard "Shut up ______!" from at least one kid's mouth in the last month. I jumped on it, called it rude, etc., substituted language--but how much can I really jump on it when it's coming from a parent's mouth?
Modern parenting dilemmas.
I was treated to yet another episode of "Charmed" at the gym yesterday. At this point, I'm counting how many different hairstyles Alyssa Milano goes through. I think it's up to six. Yesterday she had bangs. And she was dressing a lot more conservatively--she had morphed from whatever she was, which required abdomen-baring clothing, to radio call-in host, which required more business-appropriate attire. One of the younger girls has now appropriated all of her abdomen-baring clothing.
I am learning all about Wikis for work, which has made me want to Wiki just about everything in my life, from grocery lists to recipes to recaps to blogs. Wiki overkill?
Someone in my office just posed a question about an ellipsis, and another editor said, "I had an ellipsis question earlier in the week too. I'm getting into these ellipses things. En-dashes and Em-dashes are so 2008."
Uproarious laughter all around. He's an Eagles fan. And spent some time in West Lafayette, IN, so we have bonded over Midwest snow horror stories. I am willing to forgive him the Eagles obsession because it is damned hard to be a Bengals fan in the middle of Ravens/Steelers territory.
Oops. I did it again.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
movie queue
I don't have netflix--I simply don't have time, and sometimes my tastes change midstream. So this is my solution: a list of movies I want to see at some point, in no particular order or genre. It's more a note to myself than anything else. But feel free to ad lib about what's good, bad, oscar-worthy, or ugly, but don't be upset if I don't take your advice.
1. Milk
2. Doubt
3. Dark Knight
4. Sherlock Holmes (RDJr.)
5. Baby Mama
6. High School Musical
7. Mamma Mia
8. Wall-e
9. Slumdog Millionaire
10. A Christmas Tale
11. Religulous
l2. Cadillac Records
13. Frost/Nixon
14. HP and HBP
1. Milk
2. Doubt
3. Dark Knight
4. Sherlock Holmes (RDJr.)
5. Baby Mama
6. High School Musical
7. Mamma Mia
8. Wall-e
9. Slumdog Millionaire
10. A Christmas Tale
11. Religulous
l2. Cadillac Records
13. Frost/Nixon
14. HP and HBP
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
learning from the funnies
I learned something new today. Thanks NYT!
Apparently Schroeder was actually playing Beethoven tunes in the "Peanuts" cartoons. And, in a secret-code-like precursor to listening to the Beatles backwards for Satanic messages, the actual passages Schultz quoted in the strip "enhance" the joke or the emotion or the character.
Who knew?
Apparently Schroeder was actually playing Beethoven tunes in the "Peanuts" cartoons. And, in a secret-code-like precursor to listening to the Beatles backwards for Satanic messages, the actual passages Schultz quoted in the strip "enhance" the joke or the emotion or the character.
Who knew?
Monday, January 12, 2009
migraines, twilight, and other assundry items
Today is migraine day #5 (out of seven). I am trying to figure out what is causing these. My gut says that I am not eating enough (especially protein) to outweigh (ahem) the increased physical activity I've been undertaking as of late. But I don't want to eat more, as that will negate any health benefits of the increased activity.
What to do.
There is no consistency on lobe from headache to headache. Some are left side; some are right side. Some affect my eyes (like I'm being stabbed through the eye from behind), some my jaw. I become hypersensitive to noise and light, and most often experience some sort of nausea. It doesn't matter if I wear my bite splint at night or not. The cumulative hours of sleep I've gotten doesn't matter nearly as much as the length of time I've been asleep without interruption. If I manage four-six hours without interruption, then the migraines are not as bad. Less than that and I can almost count on one interrupting my day.
My doctor switched me from zomig to maxalt--maxalt is a lot less expensive than zomig, which is probably the majority of the reason. I respond to maxalt but I wonder if the headache is truly going away (e.g. blood vessels are dialating sufficiently) or if it is just prolonging the inevitable headache (which might speak to the frequency). enough navel-gazing about my head.
i saw twilight this weekend with my neighbor, Kerry. It was the first time i have been out with a "friend" one on one since moving here. It felt good to chit-chat and do something so brainless; I'd been wanting to see the film since I finished the book, and although the book was better (of course) the film was pretty good. I don't know that I would have cast Pattinson--he's not who I see when I think of Edward, but I don't know whom I would have cast in his place. It was so nice to vege for a while and think about whether Bella would get Edward in the end (or vice versa). Brain candy is fun.
Hit the gym again this morning for a 45 minute run (well, 10 min warmup, 35 min run). I did it at what was my race pace for the 10K I ran over Thanksgiving, so that was good.
The gym in general is pissing me off, though. There are about six TVs along the row of windows; they are always tuned to CNN, MSNBC, ESPN, and TNT. That's it. No ABC, CBS, NBC, or FOX. I asked Matt, the boxer cum personal trainer cum fitness director if it would be possible to change the channel and was quickly rebuked. "Ask you husband," he counseled me. My husband technically is his "boss."
"I did," I explained. "He told me to talk to you."
"Well, have him ask his boss. If I change the TV for you, I have to change it for everyone. And I am not spending my time changing channels all day long. And I'm not listening to people complain about what you are watching on TV..."
Sigh. So I am resigned to screamy news caplets (MSNBC), Anderson Cooper's perfect hair with not-so-screamy news caplets, ten minute tickers of sports highlights (and lowlifes), and endless (and I do mean endless) "Charmed" reruns.
I never watched "Charmed" when it was on for the first run. I've pretty much avoided everything Alyssa Milano has done post "Who's the Boss?" And the presence of Shannen Doherty is always a deal-killer for me as well (like Kevin Costner on the big screen... if he's in it, I ain't gonna see it. and I'm not sorry.) but now i have no choice.
it doesn't seem to matter when I hit the gym either. morning, afternoon, or evening, "Charmed" is ready and waiting for me. i listen to my ipod, so I'm not privvy to all of the sniffling, sniveling, she-witch fiasco dialogue that Aaron Spelling chose to subject viewers to. but i can't stop reading the damned captions. and boy, are they stupid.
in dayton, at the y, i had my own personal screen on row after row of treadmill and elliptical machine. it was simply beautiful. i could catch "Real World" reruns, "I Love the 80s" marathons, Ellen's talk show, SNL reruns... whatever. But now--news caplet, Cooper's hair, athletes behaving badly, or "Charmed." I'm so not charmed by this whole situation.
when it warms up, i will return to the outdoors for all running and hit the gym only for strength and interval training. but even so, i'm sure "Charmed" will be there for me. oh joy.
What to do.
There is no consistency on lobe from headache to headache. Some are left side; some are right side. Some affect my eyes (like I'm being stabbed through the eye from behind), some my jaw. I become hypersensitive to noise and light, and most often experience some sort of nausea. It doesn't matter if I wear my bite splint at night or not. The cumulative hours of sleep I've gotten doesn't matter nearly as much as the length of time I've been asleep without interruption. If I manage four-six hours without interruption, then the migraines are not as bad. Less than that and I can almost count on one interrupting my day.
My doctor switched me from zomig to maxalt--maxalt is a lot less expensive than zomig, which is probably the majority of the reason. I respond to maxalt but I wonder if the headache is truly going away (e.g. blood vessels are dialating sufficiently) or if it is just prolonging the inevitable headache (which might speak to the frequency). enough navel-gazing about my head.
i saw twilight this weekend with my neighbor, Kerry. It was the first time i have been out with a "friend" one on one since moving here. It felt good to chit-chat and do something so brainless; I'd been wanting to see the film since I finished the book, and although the book was better (of course) the film was pretty good. I don't know that I would have cast Pattinson--he's not who I see when I think of Edward, but I don't know whom I would have cast in his place. It was so nice to vege for a while and think about whether Bella would get Edward in the end (or vice versa). Brain candy is fun.
Hit the gym again this morning for a 45 minute run (well, 10 min warmup, 35 min run). I did it at what was my race pace for the 10K I ran over Thanksgiving, so that was good.
The gym in general is pissing me off, though. There are about six TVs along the row of windows; they are always tuned to CNN, MSNBC, ESPN, and TNT. That's it. No ABC, CBS, NBC, or FOX. I asked Matt, the boxer cum personal trainer cum fitness director if it would be possible to change the channel and was quickly rebuked. "Ask you husband," he counseled me. My husband technically is his "boss."
"I did," I explained. "He told me to talk to you."
"Well, have him ask his boss. If I change the TV for you, I have to change it for everyone. And I am not spending my time changing channels all day long. And I'm not listening to people complain about what you are watching on TV..."
Sigh. So I am resigned to screamy news caplets (MSNBC), Anderson Cooper's perfect hair with not-so-screamy news caplets, ten minute tickers of sports highlights (and lowlifes), and endless (and I do mean endless) "Charmed" reruns.
I never watched "Charmed" when it was on for the first run. I've pretty much avoided everything Alyssa Milano has done post "Who's the Boss?" And the presence of Shannen Doherty is always a deal-killer for me as well (like Kevin Costner on the big screen... if he's in it, I ain't gonna see it. and I'm not sorry.) but now i have no choice.
it doesn't seem to matter when I hit the gym either. morning, afternoon, or evening, "Charmed" is ready and waiting for me. i listen to my ipod, so I'm not privvy to all of the sniffling, sniveling, she-witch fiasco dialogue that Aaron Spelling chose to subject viewers to. but i can't stop reading the damned captions. and boy, are they stupid.
in dayton, at the y, i had my own personal screen on row after row of treadmill and elliptical machine. it was simply beautiful. i could catch "Real World" reruns, "I Love the 80s" marathons, Ellen's talk show, SNL reruns... whatever. But now--news caplet, Cooper's hair, athletes behaving badly, or "Charmed." I'm so not charmed by this whole situation.
when it warms up, i will return to the outdoors for all running and hit the gym only for strength and interval training. but even so, i'm sure "Charmed" will be there for me. oh joy.
Thursday, January 08, 2009
Obama and his boyz
Love this. Love it. Laughed out loud and actually snorted, to the dismay of my co-workers.
China
"...all the way to New York.... I can feel the distance...."
Laura Bush just ordered new presidential china to the tune of $483,000.
How many people would that feed? Too tired to figure out the math....
At least it wasn't taxpayer money. But still... the private foundation that covers the cost of the new dishes would have done well to donate that cash elsewhere. I bet GM would have been happy to receive it.
Basketweave and magnolias? Not my taste. Somehow, I doubt it's Michelle Obama's either. It's so... southern.
The disconnect between those at the top and those struggling to find (or keep) work has never been more apparent.
[Stepping off soapbox now]
Laura Bush just ordered new presidential china to the tune of $483,000.
How many people would that feed? Too tired to figure out the math....
At least it wasn't taxpayer money. But still... the private foundation that covers the cost of the new dishes would have done well to donate that cash elsewhere. I bet GM would have been happy to receive it.
Basketweave and magnolias? Not my taste. Somehow, I doubt it's Michelle Obama's either. It's so... southern.
The disconnect between those at the top and those struggling to find (or keep) work has never been more apparent.
[Stepping off soapbox now]
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
I am woman, hear me roar
It has been a super-fun-filled 24 hours of workouts. My thighs are complaining but hey, dems de breaks.
Last night, 6 p.m.: 15 min treadmill (walking) warm-up; 30 min resistance training; 30 min elliptical machine
This morning 8:30 a.m.: 5 min walk warm-up, 5 min run warm-up; 21 minutes intervals; 10 brisk walk cooldown; stretch
Hit my second WW meeting (in a week) afterwards to hear about the joys of eating broccoli. but hopefully it gave me my needed "shot in the arm" to stay on plan.
I don't have to think about running or strength training again until Friday. Say "hey" for a day off tomorrow!!!
Last night, 6 p.m.: 15 min treadmill (walking) warm-up; 30 min resistance training; 30 min elliptical machine
This morning 8:30 a.m.: 5 min walk warm-up, 5 min run warm-up; 21 minutes intervals; 10 brisk walk cooldown; stretch
Hit my second WW meeting (in a week) afterwards to hear about the joys of eating broccoli. but hopefully it gave me my needed "shot in the arm" to stay on plan.
I don't have to think about running or strength training again until Friday. Say "hey" for a day off tomorrow!!!
Thursday, January 01, 2009
Dear Daughter and I head to the National Gallery of Art, and I get an education
On Tuesday, dear daughter and I had a "Mommy and Sydney Day Out." We took the Metro into DC to grab a bite of lunch (Frank & Stein was her gourmet choice) and peruse the National Gallery. She had learned about Mark Rothko through a program at school called Grace Art, where parents volunteers come in and teach kids about different artists. This is what she has been/will be studying. I thought that going to the National Gallery would be something to capitalize on her interest in art, while at the same time being something special that she and I could do, since her dad doesn't have an overwhelming interest in visual art.
We arrived at the East Building of the gallery and asked at the information desk for things that someone of her age might find interesting. I shouldn't have bothered. We were directed to the Calder sculptures in the basement--an example is at the top of the post. Very cool. We had a nice conversation while examining a different, mixed-media sculpture about what kinds of things she would put in a sculpture of her own. Then we explored the next room. She ran right up to a huge canvas on the wall, similar in style to this one:
and said, "That's Mark Rothko! We studied him in school!"
Very cool. I was impressed but not overly so. I was glad she had enjoyed the lesson and paid attention. She told me about composition and shapes and colors. Exciting stuff.
Then we meandered into the next room, searching out a Lichtenstein that was on our "highlights of the museum" page. I was overwhelmed by a Pollack, and then I directed her to a Warhol.
"Look!" I said. Finally, something I vaguely recognized. "This is by Andy Warhol." I leaned down and started to use my 'teacher voice.' "Andy Warhol was...."
She cut me off almost immediately. "Mom," she said, rolling her eyes, "I know who Andy Warhol is."
"Syd," I said. "You're five and a half. How do you know about Andy Warhol."
"Mr. C. told us about him in art class. When we did printing."
I was speechless. I don't think I'd heard of Andy Warhol until well into my teens. And even so, I could probably spit out something about soup cans and Marilyn Monroe. I pushed on. "What do you know about Andy Warhol?" I asked.
"Andy Warhol used the same picture over and over again with different colors," she said, as if reciting her ABCs.
Without batting an eyelash, she dashed right up to another painting and said "Ooo! David Hockney!"
I glanced at the label next to the painting. "Actually, Sol LeWitt," I corrected. "But who's David Hockney?"
We found the Lichtenstein, which she promptly proclaimed was "so cool" and expressed a wish that her brother, age 3, could see it.
My jaw was on the floor for the next few minutes, until she returned to true five-year old form and said, "I'm hungry. Can we have ice cream? Please? Pretty please?"
Happy New Year! and guess what--big brother is watching
Happy New Year! If you trolled my blog in search of resolutions, you won't find any here. I'm already working on most of the stuff I want to change in my life, and to that effect, today is just another day. Still, I hope that the new year brings more financial health, better oversight of our regulatory agencies that are supposed to be protecting us from Madoff et al, and peace in parts of the world that are desperately in need (Israel, Gaza, and my living room, for starters).
This scary little nugget arrived in my inbox today. I'm sure that merely by posting it, I'll be picked out for extra security checks the next time I head overseas to the UK. But in the interest of spreading the word, I'll take that risk. Remind me I said that next time I'm subjected to an hour of screening because I forgot to remove a banana from my carry on bag when disembarking.
I know this stuff exists on all of us. I know that if I applied for security clearance, my blog would probably disqualify me from the get-go. I thank God that I don't live in the 50s, where my leftist leanings combined with my choice of religion and support of the arts would quickly land me on a blacklist or two. But I often wonder if it's better to be the ostrich with my head in the sand and not know exactly what Big Brother knows and tracks about me and my best friend from first grade (Jaina Lindauer--are you out there?)
This scary little nugget arrived in my inbox today. I'm sure that merely by posting it, I'll be picked out for extra security checks the next time I head overseas to the UK. But in the interest of spreading the word, I'll take that risk. Remind me I said that next time I'm subjected to an hour of screening because I forgot to remove a banana from my carry on bag when disembarking.
I know this stuff exists on all of us. I know that if I applied for security clearance, my blog would probably disqualify me from the get-go. I thank God that I don't live in the 50s, where my leftist leanings combined with my choice of religion and support of the arts would quickly land me on a blacklist or two. But I often wonder if it's better to be the ostrich with my head in the sand and not know exactly what Big Brother knows and tracks about me and my best friend from first grade (Jaina Lindauer--are you out there?)
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Caffeine-free days: 5; Monstrous workouts: 1
I went to the doctor for a check-up this week, and she let slip a small bomb: apparently, new recommendations for exercise are up--way up. Apparently, we're supposed to get 90 minutes of exercise, five times a week. A quick web search turned up an article backing up that fact--but I didn't see anything on the American Council on Exercise's site about the new recommendation. It is always harder to swallow the news when the person delivering it is thin, most probably due to genetic makeup, and makes you feel bad for carrying 25 extra pounds. But I'm letting that go. The recommendation is there.
Since I had the day off yesterday, I dutifully trudged to the gym, after spending nearly two hours trying to reset at least a few of the rooms in my home to "zero." Present-opening and two full-time, working parents have made keeping the house picked up a challenge, and I needed at least one or two rooms to appear "picked up" in order to function.
According to my running schedule (which, up until yesterday I thought was plenty of cardio work in and of itself), yesterday was an interval training day. A couple of lurkers either here or on FB have asked about intervals. Although I am probably the farthest thing from an expert on the subject, I can say that my intervals are 90 seconds of running at a pace that gets my heart rate up near my max, followed by 90 seconds of running at a normal rate to get my heart rate back down to a more normal, working out level. Then I repeat the cycle five more times. Currently, I am walking at a brisk pace rather than running on the recovery portion of the intervals, as that is the only way to bring my heart rate back down within 2 minutes. I am doing all of this to get faster. I am a very pokey runner, and after three weeks of intervals I am seeing some small amount of improvement, which is encouraging.
So intervals. I walked five minutes and jogged five minutes to warm up, then did the intervals and walked to round out the 30 minutes.
Then I hopped on over to the elliptical machine and alternatively listened to my ipod and watched cnn to kill the boredom. my pace was definitely in the "fat-burning" zone. ho-hum. When those 30 minutes had crawled by, I picked up a People magazine from September 2008 and got on the recumbent bike. For 30 minutes I paged through old celebrity news and pictures of Ellen and Portia's wedding (at home, 19 people, calm, collected, blah, blah, blah) and kept my heart rate in the "fat-burning" zone once again.
After the 90 minutes of sheer bliss, I called it a day. Some light stretching and then off to shower and grab lunch with DH. And I was STARVING. I couldn't wait to get my hands on some chicken. I needed fuel in the worst way.
And I was tired. I wondered how I was going to get through the rest of the day (it being 1 pm when I finally emerged from the locker room). The thought of doing that five times a week while trying to fit in 40 hours at work, be a mom, and put meals on the table and clean clothes in the closet was enough to make me want to dive head-first into the nearest plate of Christmas cookies--which would defeat the entire purpose of the monstrous workout.
So I have decided to try 60 minutes instead of 90. I still don't know how I'm going to get 60 minutes of cardio in on days that I have resistance training (tomorrow), but I'm off again tomorrow so I can afford the time at the gym.
It's enough to make me want a grande white chocolate mocha. Oh wait, I've given up caffeine. And that mocha is about 8 or 9 points. And the sadist--I mean, doctor--told me to try to reduce my points as well.
The upshot? Other than the extreme fatigue yesterday (which eventually faded once I ate a meal), and some residual muscle soreness from the intervals, my heart is fine. I mean, I got through all that cardio. The last two segments were boring. I felt a little like I was working, but not so much. Not compared to running. If it weren't so boring... If I could do it while working... then it might not be so bad.
Then again, I'm off today (workout-wise). I bet I'll feel different in the morning, facing the resistance and 60 min cardio. But that's tomorrow. I'm going to try to enjoy today.
Oh, and for those of you who observe--Merry Christmas! May your season and New Year be filled with sweat, white chocolate mochas, and plates and plates of Christmas cookies.
Since I had the day off yesterday, I dutifully trudged to the gym, after spending nearly two hours trying to reset at least a few of the rooms in my home to "zero." Present-opening and two full-time, working parents have made keeping the house picked up a challenge, and I needed at least one or two rooms to appear "picked up" in order to function.
According to my running schedule (which, up until yesterday I thought was plenty of cardio work in and of itself), yesterday was an interval training day. A couple of lurkers either here or on FB have asked about intervals. Although I am probably the farthest thing from an expert on the subject, I can say that my intervals are 90 seconds of running at a pace that gets my heart rate up near my max, followed by 90 seconds of running at a normal rate to get my heart rate back down to a more normal, working out level. Then I repeat the cycle five more times. Currently, I am walking at a brisk pace rather than running on the recovery portion of the intervals, as that is the only way to bring my heart rate back down within 2 minutes. I am doing all of this to get faster. I am a very pokey runner, and after three weeks of intervals I am seeing some small amount of improvement, which is encouraging.
So intervals. I walked five minutes and jogged five minutes to warm up, then did the intervals and walked to round out the 30 minutes.
Then I hopped on over to the elliptical machine and alternatively listened to my ipod and watched cnn to kill the boredom. my pace was definitely in the "fat-burning" zone. ho-hum. When those 30 minutes had crawled by, I picked up a People magazine from September 2008 and got on the recumbent bike. For 30 minutes I paged through old celebrity news and pictures of Ellen and Portia's wedding (at home, 19 people, calm, collected, blah, blah, blah) and kept my heart rate in the "fat-burning" zone once again.
After the 90 minutes of sheer bliss, I called it a day. Some light stretching and then off to shower and grab lunch with DH. And I was STARVING. I couldn't wait to get my hands on some chicken. I needed fuel in the worst way.
And I was tired. I wondered how I was going to get through the rest of the day (it being 1 pm when I finally emerged from the locker room). The thought of doing that five times a week while trying to fit in 40 hours at work, be a mom, and put meals on the table and clean clothes in the closet was enough to make me want to dive head-first into the nearest plate of Christmas cookies--which would defeat the entire purpose of the monstrous workout.
So I have decided to try 60 minutes instead of 90. I still don't know how I'm going to get 60 minutes of cardio in on days that I have resistance training (tomorrow), but I'm off again tomorrow so I can afford the time at the gym.
It's enough to make me want a grande white chocolate mocha. Oh wait, I've given up caffeine. And that mocha is about 8 or 9 points. And the sadist--I mean, doctor--told me to try to reduce my points as well.
The upshot? Other than the extreme fatigue yesterday (which eventually faded once I ate a meal), and some residual muscle soreness from the intervals, my heart is fine. I mean, I got through all that cardio. The last two segments were boring. I felt a little like I was working, but not so much. Not compared to running. If it weren't so boring... If I could do it while working... then it might not be so bad.
Then again, I'm off today (workout-wise). I bet I'll feel different in the morning, facing the resistance and 60 min cardio. But that's tomorrow. I'm going to try to enjoy today.
Oh, and for those of you who observe--Merry Christmas! May your season and New Year be filled with sweat, white chocolate mochas, and plates and plates of Christmas cookies.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
She would have been 63
Next Tuesday... in one week... my mother would have been 63. It is hard for me to imagine her at that age, since she is eternally frozen at 44. She was very gray in her 40s, so I can only imagine that she would have gone completely gray by then. Would she still be coloring her hair? Her mother did until the day she died, so I can only imagine.
Although she had some age lines, as we all seem to accumulate across the 30s, she wasn't overly marked. She had beautiful Mediterranean skin. Would it have been wrinkled? So hard to imagine.
I was only reminded (not that I will ever truly forget) because an engine that reminds me of birthdays and anniversaries sent me an email, reminding me of both my brother and my uncle's birthdays (all on Dec. 23--she was a twin). Seeing the number "Your Uncle will be 63 on Dec. 23" was a bit of a shock. I know that it's been almost 19 years, but the idea of my mother at 63 isn't something I've pondered before.
Sixty-three. I wonder if she would have accomplished all that she wanted to, or if there would have still been dreams and goals unfulfilled. I wonder if she would still want to ski. I'm sure she still would have loved golfing, and playing with my kids.
She would have been 63.
Although she had some age lines, as we all seem to accumulate across the 30s, she wasn't overly marked. She had beautiful Mediterranean skin. Would it have been wrinkled? So hard to imagine.
I was only reminded (not that I will ever truly forget) because an engine that reminds me of birthdays and anniversaries sent me an email, reminding me of both my brother and my uncle's birthdays (all on Dec. 23--she was a twin). Seeing the number "Your Uncle will be 63 on Dec. 23" was a bit of a shock. I know that it's been almost 19 years, but the idea of my mother at 63 isn't something I've pondered before.
Sixty-three. I wonder if she would have accomplished all that she wanted to, or if there would have still been dreams and goals unfulfilled. I wonder if she would still want to ski. I'm sure she still would have loved golfing, and playing with my kids.
She would have been 63.
Monday, December 15, 2008
so who knew pandora uses up bandwidth?
i certainly hadn't thought of it that way. it's a shame, really. the tech guy in da howse has been threatening to crack down on our use of itunes and pandora. i can see itunes, as it's a client, but pandora is not a download. apparently, though, the customization takes its toll on the server--and, weirdly, on the ftp site. not sure how all that works.
killing time until i can leave. a mere six hours today. sigh. is that even respectable? but there are only so many assets i can meta-tag, and so many lessons i can read against the chapter before my brain starts to go mushy. and only so many times i can listen to colleagues who are ill loudly clear their throats and suck their respective snot back up into their nasal cavities. lovely sound, truly.
but at least i have a job.
i want to knit curb girl a pair of wristlets, but by the time i would finish them, it would be the heat of summer. i am sending her warm vibes and safe space heaters.
congratulations to my stepsister, who apparently eloped this week (or is eloping this week). thanks for not making me deal with a wedding or formal dress for my family! i hope she will be happy.
read some of chuck lorre's vanity cards today. the censored ones were funny. i really like The Big Bang Theory. it's one of the only things on tv that my dh and i can agree on.
okay--enough time wasted???
killing time until i can leave. a mere six hours today. sigh. is that even respectable? but there are only so many assets i can meta-tag, and so many lessons i can read against the chapter before my brain starts to go mushy. and only so many times i can listen to colleagues who are ill loudly clear their throats and suck their respective snot back up into their nasal cavities. lovely sound, truly.
but at least i have a job.
i want to knit curb girl a pair of wristlets, but by the time i would finish them, it would be the heat of summer. i am sending her warm vibes and safe space heaters.
congratulations to my stepsister, who apparently eloped this week (or is eloping this week). thanks for not making me deal with a wedding or formal dress for my family! i hope she will be happy.
read some of chuck lorre's vanity cards today. the censored ones were funny. i really like The Big Bang Theory. it's one of the only things on tv that my dh and i can agree on.
okay--enough time wasted???
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)