He makes a good point: you either have colon cancer, or you don't. Either way, don't you want to know? Stop putting it off, get a colonoscopy!
Dave Barry: A journey into my colon - and yours
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Cycletaurs
I remember writing last year (no, wait, it was the one before that! How long have I been here now??) that Bert & I were on our bikes so much we were slowly finding mystical union with them.
Well! That ain't nothing compared to this summer. Because this summer I have a new bike!
Check it oooooouuuutt!
Isn't it gorgeous? It's got 27 gears, hydraulic brakes, unkaputtbare Reifen ("indestructible tires" -- we don't say that, do we? "Flat-resistant tires"? Help me out, here), a top shifting system, adjustable everything, and suspension under the seat and handlebars. The powerful headlight and taillights come on automatically when it gets dark enough. Even the bell is the perfect silvery sound to announce the approach of this noblest of Zweirädern. Ding, ding! Magnificent bike coming, hark! And admire ye!
My last bikes (yes, plural) were all more or less experiments, hand-me-downs from friends which fit me just enough to keep my knees from making contact with my jaw as I pedaled. Which was good, because any tiny unevenness in the pavement would already make my teeth chatter together as I fumbled with the temperamental gears in an attempt to keep up with Bert's cruiseworthy Diamant. Don't get me wrong, I was grateful to have them; but we were definitely Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang -- without the wings and sentience -- following an Audi Roadster.
When the chain finally leapt in desperation from the last such contraption, Bert took my hand and marched me into a huge cycling shop in Oggersheim. Light glinted off row upon row of sleek thoroughbreds, turning their wheels seductively toward me and purring their tinkling bells, beckoning me to sit on the bouncy new seats. "But I can't afford any of these jewels!" I protested, already clambering onto one to see what I'd be missing. Bounce, bounce. I squeezed the ergonomic handles. Ooo. "And I can't afford to allow you any more excuses not to take longer excursions with me," said Bert. He waved over a salesperson.
Well! After much experimentation, we are now two Audis cruising down the road. The right equipment just makes all the difference. What before had been rattling and laborious is now smooth and effortless, like flying; and I can focus so much more on the scenery and the wind than on keeping my chain in place. Even pedaling over very rough, tree-rooty forest paths is like something out of a 4x4 commercial.
So far, we average about 40-60 kilometers per ride in anticipation of taking a biking vacation for Bert's birthday in October. Bike paths in Germany are just the best. It's a very outdoorsy country, and the specially-designated, traffic-free bike paths that ribbon all throughout the countryside are well mapped and maintained, with cute little green signs indicating direction and distance at every intersection. We've already got our journey entered into the GPS -- 300 kilometers along rivers between Bavaria and Baden Württemberg, with many a camping spot and brewery along the way, finally ending four or five days later at a vineyard where Bert's family will come join us for the birthday weekend itself.
Doesn't that just sound awesome??
Time to start molding butts onto bike seats!
Well! That ain't nothing compared to this summer. Because this summer I have a new bike!
Check it oooooouuuutt!
My last bikes (yes, plural) were all more or less experiments, hand-me-downs from friends which fit me just enough to keep my knees from making contact with my jaw as I pedaled. Which was good, because any tiny unevenness in the pavement would already make my teeth chatter together as I fumbled with the temperamental gears in an attempt to keep up with Bert's cruiseworthy Diamant. Don't get me wrong, I was grateful to have them; but we were definitely Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang -- without the wings and sentience -- following an Audi Roadster.
When the chain finally leapt in desperation from the last such contraption, Bert took my hand and marched me into a huge cycling shop in Oggersheim. Light glinted off row upon row of sleek thoroughbreds, turning their wheels seductively toward me and purring their tinkling bells, beckoning me to sit on the bouncy new seats. "But I can't afford any of these jewels!" I protested, already clambering onto one to see what I'd be missing. Bounce, bounce. I squeezed the ergonomic handles. Ooo. "And I can't afford to allow you any more excuses not to take longer excursions with me," said Bert. He waved over a salesperson.
Well! After much experimentation, we are now two Audis cruising down the road. The right equipment just makes all the difference. What before had been rattling and laborious is now smooth and effortless, like flying; and I can focus so much more on the scenery and the wind than on keeping my chain in place. Even pedaling over very rough, tree-rooty forest paths is like something out of a 4x4 commercial.
So far, we average about 40-60 kilometers per ride in anticipation of taking a biking vacation for Bert's birthday in October. Bike paths in Germany are just the best. It's a very outdoorsy country, and the specially-designated, traffic-free bike paths that ribbon all throughout the countryside are well mapped and maintained, with cute little green signs indicating direction and distance at every intersection. We've already got our journey entered into the GPS -- 300 kilometers along rivers between Bavaria and Baden Württemberg, with many a camping spot and brewery along the way, finally ending four or five days later at a vineyard where Bert's family will come join us for the birthday weekend itself.
Doesn't that just sound awesome??
Time to start molding butts onto bike seats!
Friday, July 10, 2009
Dragging...
So... tired... today!
I've been weirdly sleepy all week. Have so much to do, and a long list of planning and translating and proofreading and email-answering and general Work Admin to get through today... but I can't seem to focus. What is up? I haven't been sleeping any less (or more!) than usual this week, but when I do, it's been very deep and then difficult to get up afterwards. Bert even took one look at my puffy peepers and asked, alarmed, if I'd been crying!
Can a body suddenly start demanding all the lost sleep it's accumulated over the years?
Must finish lessons... must write colleagues back... want to go... lie... down... zzzzzz!
I've been weirdly sleepy all week. Have so much to do, and a long list of planning and translating and proofreading and email-answering and general Work Admin to get through today... but I can't seem to focus. What is up? I haven't been sleeping any less (or more!) than usual this week, but when I do, it's been very deep and then difficult to get up afterwards. Bert even took one look at my puffy peepers and asked, alarmed, if I'd been crying!
Can a body suddenly start demanding all the lost sleep it's accumulated over the years?
Must finish lessons... must write colleagues back... want to go... lie... down... zzzzzz!
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
Bare addendum
Poor Berti! He read that last post and was a little shocked. He said I make it sound as if "er glotzt anderen Frauen hinterher und findet seine eigene total langweilig."
So allow me to emphasize that Bert is not glotzing other women hinterher. And he doesn't find me total langweilig. I just noticed that he picks up on the cute little touches -- little touches that I have no plans to add to my already chore-filled morning routine, not even if it's something small for my boyfriend's sake.
Which is kind of a pity, considering how many women complain that their guys don't notice or appreciate when they go out of their way to look nice. It seems with us, Bert is such a rare man, who got stuck with a girlfriend who's too lazy to make the effort!
So allow me to emphasize that Bert is not glotzing other women hinterher. And he doesn't find me total langweilig. I just noticed that he picks up on the cute little touches -- little touches that I have no plans to add to my already chore-filled morning routine, not even if it's something small for my boyfriend's sake.
Which is kind of a pity, considering how many women complain that their guys don't notice or appreciate when they go out of their way to look nice. It seems with us, Bert is such a rare man, who got stuck with a girlfriend who's too lazy to make the effort!
Monday, July 06, 2009
India bound
We just sent Shauna off to Bangalore to meet her new Google playmates today. She had her little sack lunch and backpack and typhoid tablets. Everybody please wish her a safe and happy adventure.
Friday, July 03, 2009
The bare minimum
Yesterday, I saw a girl wearing bright yellow ballet flats.
It looked really cute, especially because the rest of her outfit, being rather unremarkable, was made completely eye-catching and expressive by these two cheerful feet. My first thought was how cool that was. My second thought was that I would never think to do that.
Thing is, I kind of like fashion. Not in the magazine-runway-designer way; I mean the oh-look-what-she-has-on kind of way. Although maybe like isn't so much the word as admire: I enjoy observing how people decorate themselves, and am kind of envious that I don't have the same effortless ability. I only just recently bowed to the skinny-jean trend, probably on the same vague impulse that propelled me to stop wearing them somewhere around 1994: the small part of my brain devoted to not looking ten years out of date was finally visually prodded enough to passively follow along with my age group.
Tempted as I am to claim that this is due to occupying some lofty plane above such petty considerations (you know, contemplating the cosmos with Carl and all that), the fact is, I'm just lazy and broke. And unadventurous, too, as a result.
See, it's hard enough work finding just one piece of clothing or shoes that do the job and look halfway decent. Maybe if I had the time -- or, well, okay, if I chose to spend the time -- to shop endlessly, I'm sure I'd find more stuff. Which would promptly be out of style again 18 months later, and I'd be back to shopping for more stuff. (This is where the money part comes in.) It just seems like the constant effort involved outweighs any impulse I have to decorate myself beyond the bare minimum. I have a belt, I have a pair of pumps. Why do I need a bunch of different kinds?
Of course this means I'm also not terribly experimental -- if I do find something, and spend my limited cash on it, it's got to be useful with more than one outfit (sorry, bright yellow flats).
All of which leaves me with a closet full of relatively neutral colors in what I think are nice cuts and fabrics. And I feel comfortable and put-together, until I go out with my friend Nadja, who has cleverly matched her lipstick to her pearl-pink jacket and looks like a million bucks. Or I have a date with my boyfriend, and go to find something pretty and eye-catching to wear and the best I can do is Librarian In Heels.
I guess this all pretty trivial, not to mention exactly like complaining you don't have awesome triceps when you're not willing to put in the time and effort to attain them. I just wish it was equally as unimportant to my boyfriend. Of course he's subtle about it; but I can't help cringing just a little when he comments, with a halfway-pleading look at me, how cute and feminine that girl's painted toenails look peeking out of her summery sandals, and I realize I don't even own any nail polish. (Because then I'd have to, you know, paint my nails! And it would chip off, and I'd have to paint them again. You see??)
Sigh. Bert would have noticed the yellow flats, too.
Maybe I should become a software engineer like my sister, where you're looked at fish-eyed if you do more than make sure your company logo tee is clean and free of noticeable holes.
It looked really cute, especially because the rest of her outfit, being rather unremarkable, was made completely eye-catching and expressive by these two cheerful feet. My first thought was how cool that was. My second thought was that I would never think to do that.
Thing is, I kind of like fashion. Not in the magazine-runway-designer way; I mean the oh-look-what-she-has-on kind of way. Although maybe like isn't so much the word as admire: I enjoy observing how people decorate themselves, and am kind of envious that I don't have the same effortless ability. I only just recently bowed to the skinny-jean trend, probably on the same vague impulse that propelled me to stop wearing them somewhere around 1994: the small part of my brain devoted to not looking ten years out of date was finally visually prodded enough to passively follow along with my age group.
Tempted as I am to claim that this is due to occupying some lofty plane above such petty considerations (you know, contemplating the cosmos with Carl and all that), the fact is, I'm just lazy and broke. And unadventurous, too, as a result.
See, it's hard enough work finding just one piece of clothing or shoes that do the job and look halfway decent. Maybe if I had the time -- or, well, okay, if I chose to spend the time -- to shop endlessly, I'm sure I'd find more stuff. Which would promptly be out of style again 18 months later, and I'd be back to shopping for more stuff. (This is where the money part comes in.) It just seems like the constant effort involved outweighs any impulse I have to decorate myself beyond the bare minimum. I have a belt, I have a pair of pumps. Why do I need a bunch of different kinds?
Of course this means I'm also not terribly experimental -- if I do find something, and spend my limited cash on it, it's got to be useful with more than one outfit (sorry, bright yellow flats).
All of which leaves me with a closet full of relatively neutral colors in what I think are nice cuts and fabrics. And I feel comfortable and put-together, until I go out with my friend Nadja, who has cleverly matched her lipstick to her pearl-pink jacket and looks like a million bucks. Or I have a date with my boyfriend, and go to find something pretty and eye-catching to wear and the best I can do is Librarian In Heels.
I guess this all pretty trivial, not to mention exactly like complaining you don't have awesome triceps when you're not willing to put in the time and effort to attain them. I just wish it was equally as unimportant to my boyfriend. Of course he's subtle about it; but I can't help cringing just a little when he comments, with a halfway-pleading look at me, how cute and feminine that girl's painted toenails look peeking out of her summery sandals, and I realize I don't even own any nail polish. (Because then I'd have to, you know, paint my nails! And it would chip off, and I'd have to paint them again. You see??)
Sigh. Bert would have noticed the yellow flats, too.
Maybe I should become a software engineer like my sister, where you're looked at fish-eyed if you do more than make sure your company logo tee is clean and free of noticeable holes.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)