At the Liberal Potluck

One of the first shows I remember watching on television as a teenager (my family was late to get technology) was one about a woman who infiltrated the Communist Party. This woman discovered that some of her neighbors were Communists. She reported them to the FBI and the FBI asked her to join so she could spy on them.

I’ve since read that at least half of the registered members of the Communist Party in the USA were FBI spies.

In the movie, this woman joined the Communists, went to their meetings and participated in their activities.

Boring.

They sat around drinking tea and addressing envelopes. They didn’t even get to hear speeches about what was so exciting about Communism that they should put up with these boring meetings.

At the end of the movie, there was a court trial and this bored woman named her neighbors who had drunk tea and addressed envelopes is if those activities were crimes.

When I joined the Democratic Party a few years later (you couldn’t vote until age 21 in those days) I told the folks at campaign headquarters that I wanted to participate in any activities that would help elect Democrats. So, I was invited to meetings where I drank tea and addressed envelopes. I got so bored, I addressed some envelopes in Cyrillic alphabet.

And when the election came around – here is real proof of my ancient origins – I went door to door in the ghetto offering to babysit children while their mothers went to vote.

They took me up on it. Free babysitting. I have no idea if they really voted. Some of the moms were gone a very long time and came back with groceries.

Last night I was invited to the neighborhood liberal potluck. I baked an extra loaf of whole wheat bread, special for the occasion, thinking that the group would be of mixed ages and young people these days don’t know how to make bread.

There were no young people at the meeting. And we didn’t address envelopes. We didn’t even get tea. Instead we were told about where to obtain forms to register voters and instructed on how to obtain signatures to get President Barack Hussein Obama on the ballot in Pennsylvania. This is kind of tricky. We’ll need to obtain voter registration sheets so people can make sure they sign the petition the same way they signed their voter registration forms. Most people forget if they used a middle initial or spelled out their middle names, but if you don’t sign the petition exactly the way you signed your voter registration, your signature will be disqualified. You also have to sign neatly or the whole page of 50 signatures can be disqualified. I don’t know what they do for folks who have had strokes and whose handwriting has changed.

The most interesting thing I learned at the meeting was that the woman from Obama for America had been to the White House and had her picture taken with the President. This was the highlight of her life. Her great grandmother had been born into slavery and now, she was in the White House with the President and his wife.

There were no talks about how exciting is to be a Democrat, or a liberal.

Soon I’ll be going door to door collecting signatures. Most of my neighbors will be happy to sign. Most voters in Philadelphia are Democrats. I won’t be offering to babysit.

Bicycle Conversations at the Grocery Store

The cart corral at my local grocery is convenient to the parking lot, but out-of-the-way if you park a bicycle beside the store. Wearing my helmet, sunglasses with rear-view mirrors, and carrying my pannier (bike bags) I spied a cart near the door, and walked briskly towards it.

An employee came out the door and started pushing it toward the corral.

“May I have that cart?”

“Sure. If you’ll tell me where you got those glasses with mirrors.”

I took off my glasses, and showed him how the mirrors were friction fit to the earpieces. You can put them on any glasses. The company only makes the left side mirror, but you can put one on the right if you put it on upside down and sideways.

Bike Peddler Take A Look Cycling Eyeglass Mirror (Original)

I got through the store without many more questions. But when I tried to buy lake perch in the fish department, I learned that the store only gets them for about 6 weeks a year – in the spring. So why did I want them? Lake perch is a comfort food for me. My grandfather used to take me out in his boat on what we called Lake Grampie in Chetek Wisconsin. He’d catch a fish, come right home, clean and cook it. Sometimes my grandmother cooked it. Either way, fresh lake perch means time with my grandparents, morning glories on the laundry line, when the sun comes up, watching the neighborhood porcupine, boating on a freshwater lake, all is right with the world. I couldn’t even get a frozen perch. So, I bought some tuna, that the man behind the counter assured me was fresh caught.

At checkout, the saleswoman asked if my pannier were waterproof.

“That’s why I bought them. That and the fact that they have no zippers to break.” She’d been doing research on the web and come to the same conclusion I had that waterproof pannier are worth the extra cost. We discussed the merits of different sized bags. She wanted one that her laptop could fit inside. She concluded that the one I bought would do the job she needed. I told her if she needs something bigger, to check the Jandd brand. They’re available with waterproof covers, or completely waterproof models. They hold a grocery bag full of stuff, but they cost about twice the price of the one I bought.

I got the Axiom Monsoon model.

Axiom Monsoon LX Pannier Set (Yellow/Black)

Then she asked if I wanted to donate my bag refund.

“No,” I said. “I just bought these pannier. I want them to pay for themselves. They’ll last me about 20 years, and a nickel each time I use them will just about break even.”

Biorhythms and Interval Training

I was feeling good about my interval training on the elliptical machine.  I’d been doing 4 intervals of speed-up in 12 minutes and feeling energized when I got off the machine. 


Then, a week ago, I did 3 intervals and I felt tired.  My thoughts went into loops. Am I catching a cold? Am I getting weak? Is something seriously bad going on with my health?  After all, a few days before, I’d gotten a slipped disc in yoga.  Maybe my body was in a slump.  Waaaah!  


I’ve worked too hard, too long, in far too many ways, to let that happen.  But it was happening anyway.  I felt tired.  Me. After only three 30-second speed-ups.


Then I remembered something from the 70s.  Biorhythms.  Everybody has a cycle of bad days and good days.  Here’s a website with a free calculator:  http://www.facade.com/biorhythm/


Sure enough – I was at the bottom of my physical cycle.


Okay. I could expect my body to be stronger in a few days.  


And PostureDoc, a channel I subscribe to on YouTube, uploaded a video about interval training: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aKiVaJk4eYw


He made the point that I shouldn’t do a 2nd interval until my heart rate has returned to my normal range.   That isn’t necessarily 2 minutes, like I’d been doing.  The elliptical machines at my gym has a 50 second delay before displaying the heart rate.  So, during the speed up, my heart rate may look like it’s staying at about 116 bpm.  Then a minute later, it will jump up to 148 or higher.  So, it may take 3 minutes to get back to my normal range.  And even then, I may still have an oxygen debt.  


I noticed that after each subsequent interval, it takes a bit longer to return to my normal heart rate.  But if I wait for it, I can do 4 intervals even at the bottom of my biorhythm cycle.  It may take longer that 12 minutes, but what’s a few minutes when the goal is a lifetime of an active body?   

Good Deeds?

When possible, I like to connect people I think could help each other. Often it works out. I recommended Young PT to a computer client who damaged her rotator cuff. I share recipes and baking samples with neighbors. 


And I thought it would be helpful when one of my computer clients had outgrown her computer, to suggest she donate it to another client who runs a non-profit and could use another computer.
Used computers aren’t worth much on the resale market, so freedom from the hassle of selling the old machine plus a tax write-off can be a good deal. 


First the non-profit client had health problems and had to put off picking up the old computer. Then she decided she wanted some program that can be downloaded from the web installed before picked it up.  I donated that. Eventually, the transfer took place.


My client contacted me.  The non-profit hadn’t sent her a donor letter to use for her tax write-off.


I contacted the non-profit.  The non-profit woman was having problems with the used computer and thought it wasn’t worth much.  She said she would write the donor letter for a $50 value machine.   I sent her links to the tax revenue websites showing that it is not up to her to place a value on the donated item. She only needs to write a letter thanking the donor for a computer. 


This turned into a heated argument in which I wound up telling her that if she did not write the donor letter without an estimated value for the computer, I would never suggest anybody donate anything to her again.


She agreed to write the letter.  


Months went by.  No letter.  


She said she writes all the letters for the year in January.  Weird, but okay – the letter will arrive before tax time.


The first week of January, my client contacted me.  Where was her donor letter?


This time I sent an email to both of them, reminding the non-profit woman that she had promised to send the letter and because of the promise I expect her to do it.  


A few days later, the non-profit woman emailed me back that she had written the letter.  


Whew!

No Leverage in Yoga

I’ve done spine twists, sitting sideways on a chair, using the back of the chair for leverage to increase the twist for over 30 years.  For over 30 years, I’ve enjoyed the warmth along my spine after a good twist.  Until my last yoga class.


We sat in our chairs.  We twisted.  Then it was time to put the chairs away and do floor work.  I couldn’t lift the chair. I couldn’t even stand straight.  I spent the rest of the class time, doing every relaxation (there really is no such thing as stretching – muscles don’t stretch, but they do elongate when relaxed) I could remember, trying to straighten my spine.


The teacher offered to call the fire department to carry me downstairs.  I was afraid that being lifted would hurt worse than anything I could do to myself. So, I continued to try relaxing my muscles in different positions.


Eventually, I was able to stand, and walk slowly, leaning to one side.  Two hands on the banister, and I got down the stairs, thinking NOT AGAIN.  This has be the worst year yet for accidents.


When I got home, I looked up yoga twists, hoping to find healing instructions.  Instead, I found this on Yoga Journal.   


A couple of tips for any twisting pose:


Elongate your spine by lengthening your torso as much as possible before coming into a twist. Think of reaching the crown of your head to the sky. Depending upon the twist, you may be able to press your hand into the ground to help with this action. A slumped over position limits your rotation.


Initiate the twist from the abdominal muscles rather than forcing a twist by using leverage. This will ensure you reach your edge safely.


Leverage is supposed to be useful in all areas of life.  But NOT in Yoga. NOW they tell me!  Okay, maybe yoga teachers have mentioned this throughout the years and maybe I didn’t hear it because I was having too much fun.  But, now I know, and I will protect myself in the future.


And on YouTube, I found http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_wYM64_1heo which teaches two good exercises to do for injured discs. And I found instructions for how to use ice.  I didn’t know that ice works best if you leave it on for 15 minutes or until the area is numb.

Small Exercise is Wonderful

I’ve been taking Feldenkrais classes at my gym for about a year now. The teacher is always telling us, you don’t have to make the biggest motion you can. You can make it small. You can even imagine yourself doing it.


I thought this was for the less fit students, so they would at least try.  It never occurred to me, that these minimizations could help me.  I’m strong. I’m able to relax my muscles. I’m working on becoming more fit. Why go small?


This morning, I woke up with an ouchy low back ache.  I decided to try meditating with body relaxation. Translation – meditate lying on my back.  Breathe into parts of my body, starting with my toes, then the bottoms of my feet, then the tops of my feet, then my ankles, working all the way up to the top of my head.  I did this for about an hour.  I still hurt.


My husband woke, and he wanted to meditate lying in our bed.  I did not want to get out of bed. My low back still hurt, and it was only 5 AM.  I wanted to exercises my low back, but not disturb my husband’s meditation.


I decided to try very small motions with my low back, side to side, tilt and reverse. I decided to try making them smaller and smaller. The pain increased each time I tilted to the left.  I decided to play with that. Smaller and smaller.  


Suddenly, something went *pop* – just a very small adjustment. The pain level went way down. I continued doing small repeated movements, the kind that bore me in Feldenkrais class.  But this time I was curious – what was moving more easily? Where was I still stuck?  


I didn’t find anything, but when my husband finished meditating, I was able to get up with very little pain and by the time I’d gone for a walk, I was almost comfortable.  Small is powerful!

Men Think They Know Everything

Men think they know everything.


Boys, too.


I read once that a man will think he’s qualified for a job if he has 40% of the required skills.  A woman will think she’s not qualified if she has 90% of the required skills.


I wondered how young this discrepancy started.  Certainly the few boys who still talked to me in junior high and high school didn’t have that attitude.


But that’s the key – most men were boys who wouldn’t talk to me.


A next door neighbor boy had a major case of braggadocio when I was in elementary school. He had blue eyes and he insisted loudly that I was an inferior being because I have brown eyes. Only people like him were worthwhile.  He was better at aiming a snowball than I was, and that was proof. 


Somebody gave him litmus paper.  That’s the pale pink paper that turns pale purple when you touch it to a bar of wet soap or wet baking soda.  And it turns pink again if you pour vinegar on it.  He insisted it was dangerous.  He, the brave superior being, went into a room all by himself and made the paper change color.  I was so disgusted with him that I figured he had some purple paper in that little room and he had just walked in with the pink paper and walked out with the purple one.


I didn’t think of this neighbor boy as a typical boy. I thought of him as an irritating brat.


Then I had a conversation with my 6-year-old grandson.  I’d brought my jump rope to give to him and his sister.  My grandson greeted me, “I know all about jump rope.”


This sounded odd.  I’ve been jumping rope for years, I’ve witnessed jump rope competitions. I can do a few tricks (okay – not with my new hip) – correction, I could do a few tricks when I had my original equipment.  Anyway, I would not say that I know all about jump rope.  And here was a 6-year-old boy claiming that he knows all about jump rope.


I handed him the rope and asked him to show me what he could do.


He didn’t know how to spin it.  He moved his arms from the shoulders, instead of using his wrists and forearms. He couldn’t jump the rope even once.  

He gave his sister a turn. She quietly took the rope, spun it and jumped successfully.  No bragging. No talking.  Just jumping. 


I asked my husband, the alien, what would have happened to him as a child if he’d bragged about something he couldn’t do. He said the other kids would have teased him mercilessly, the coach would have lectured him. His father would have insisted that he speak modestly, rather than brag. But then, my husband is the sort of male who is willing to talk to me.


Something else is going on in our culture. Somehow – very young – boys are getting the idea that they know more than they do, and are more competent than they really are.  While girls are learning to do things, boys are learning to brag.


Now if girls can learn that boys are just bragging, maybe true communication can start.