Thursday, August 14, 2008

Faster, higher, stronger AND screwed over

For the last 3 days, I have been non-stop obsessed over the Olympics. I love watching any and all events - particularly women's gymnastics; I've been following the dramas, trials and tribulations of the US and Chinese teams.
Oh and I love the side dramas too:

  1. substituting a cuter girl to lip sync the Chinese national anthem during the opening ceremony.
  2. the Spanish team stretching the outside of their eye lids to mimic chinky Asian eyes
  3. the poor dancer who was going to be the only solo dance performer among the synchronized masses, falling to permanent paralysis during a practice the day before the opening ceremony because of a faulty platform
  4. as well as the thousands upon thousands of poor washed up Chinese Olympic hopefuls, raised in a government run sports camp that never make it - either end up with injuries, paralyzed and always with no other skills to fall back on.
(Some don't even know how to read!) They are separated from their parents at a young age, like 3. They're tortured on a daily basis and fed nationalistic propaganda with promises of fame and riches. Many get washed up at various ages (some as young as 8, as they're cast aside for more talented hopefuls), they end up disabled and/or impoverished. The Chinese are using a cruel numbers game on the race for Olympic gold. Nobody is approaching Olympic training this way so I can't see how in like 10 years, the Chinese will just win in every event. For every Cheng Fei, there are literally thousands who sacrificed their entire lives for unrealized dreams.

Still, watching the Olympians compete, it gives me such pride in the human body; what it can do with training and perserverance.

I'm generally lazy but I've been doing these intense 25 minute workouts every other day because it helps me sleep and keeps me sane. Tonight before I started my workout, I was ready to punch the wall but now I feel like giving my husband and the world a hug. I ran on an incline on a treadmill for 30 minutes straight. Then I did 4 sets of 50 modified sit ups. Now I'm ready for a cool shower and then I'm going to watch the Olympics. They really are torturing my sleep deprived mind and body by running events until 1AM.

Green Barley powder

Love love love love love my green barley grass powder/supplement. It tastes really bad, sort of like sawdust or grass, so I mix it with orange juice and it becomes palatable. It's been great for my digestion and I really believe in the health benefits.

Monday, August 11, 2008

In the background but not really


Here's a really nice picture of my friend and her son, although I've blotted them both out with blue happy faces (to protect their privacy and to further my point). What's really funny to me is that me and my children as well as her husband are part of the background (see red arrows). Normally people in the background are random folk that you would normally ignore should they show up in your photos. Well what happens if you know the background people? There should be a term for this.

Happy Birthday x2 Sadie!

Looking at how happy Sadie looked and felt at her birthday party makes my heart sing. She had been asking almost every day for the past few months in a hopeful voice, "Is it my birthday today?" or "When will it be my birthday?" And since my in-laws are coming to stay with us for a week, she can have another birthday party.

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Diatribe on lawn

I hate lawn. I can't imagine anything more egotistical, useless, and unenvironmental. People in the suburbs spend so much time and energy trying to beautify their lawns by cutting it with these loud gas powered mowers (they also smell really bad), using obnoxious weed wackers and pesticides/chemicals as well as wasting so much water on them. It's become such a status symbol...the bigger and greener your lawn...the bigger your "fill in whatever blank you want." Josh says lawn appeals to our sense of orderliness and dominion over our surroundings. It's disgusting how we need to feed our egos to the detriment of our environment and common sense.

I want to get rid of our front lawn and replace it with a productive garden that can feed 3 families, but I'd be the laughing stock of Scarsdale. It makes sense to me.

I heard from someone that this is how American Indians feel about lawn, they're so perplexed why we would waste so much productive space on something so useless.

Joys of fatherhood


Me: My children bring me so much joy every time I see them.
Farnk: Yea, but that won't last long.
Me: What do you mean?! This feeling goes away?
Farnk: Yes, by the time they're 8, you won't feel the same way.

Extremely forlorn by this conversation, I turned to another individual who has grown children, Josh's aunt.

Me: I heard that by 8 years old children stop giving you joy. Is this true? Because I don't want to believe it.
Josh's aunt: What?! Who told you that? Your children always bring you joy. And when they become adults you feel so proud that they've become people.
Me: Farnk told me that.
Josh's aunt breaks into chuckles.

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Short Aesop fable

Dazee: Let me try banging on your drums, er bucket. Sadie: Not so fast, less swift but stouter one.
Dazee: OK, I found some bigger and better drums right here.
Sadie: Er, can I try your drums?
MORAL: Share!

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I'm flying!

One of the things that Josh invented (which used to appall me because I hate feet) was to lift up our daughters into the air with feet while we lie down. I converted to the dark side because apparently, they like it.

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Stay at home stylist

Took the day off from work today and had a wonderful time with my children. I even gave Sadie a spiffy new haircut. Here's a picture of the lovely and freshly shorn locks crawling through a nylon tunnel.

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I don't know anyone more stubborn or crazy (except his relatives)

I'm very afraid for my crazy and stubborn husband. He decides in the middle of a nasty poison ivy outbreak to go on a poison ivy hunt around our yard and compost pile, violently anilhilating all the poison ivy he could get his hands on. Despite protests, he went out with regular clothes with very little protection save for surgical gloves which ripped in the process. After he finished the job, he came back into the house raging like a lunatic. "GET OUT OF THE WAY!" he screamed at me and the kids. He slams the door to the bathroom. Dazee is excited to see her father and innocently calls for him through the closed door, "Da da da da" in her sweet sing song voice. "GET HER AWAY!" my husband commands. I lift her up and she starts crying in protest. She doesn't understand why Dada won't play with her.
If he gets a second case of poison ivy or spreads it to one of us, I don't think that will be good at all.

Brother, can you spare a penis?

Strapped in her carseat, in the back of the car, with her little sister strapped next to her, Sadie suddenly and proudly proclaims, "I don't have a penis!"
"That's right," I said. "What do you have?"
She grins, "A vaginis."
I tell her that boys have penises and girls have vagin-NAHs. I asked her, what does mommy have?
"A penis," she responds. "Is mommy a boy or a girl?" I ask, trying to lead her to the right answer by using the Socratic method. "A girl, " she says.
So what does mommy have? I ask again. "A vaginis," she replies. This goes on for few rounds and everyone I ask about seems to have a penis to her, her grandmothers, father and friends at school.
Finally, we go back to square one because she says in a rising questioning tone, "I don't have a penis?!"