In light of the recent news about Patrick Swayze’s illness, I though it apropros to blog (finally!) about those certain works of screen and film that, no matter how hard you try or realize that you really do have better things to, you can’t turn off. It’s not that they are actually good. It’s just that they are fluff-full entertainment that is addicting. So imagine yourself channel hopping and coming across any one of the movies I list below. Once you hit any one of these, your night is over, your quest has ended. You have found your television entertainment for the next 90 minutes.
My Top 10, in order:
1. Dirty Dancing. No one puts Baby in the corner. This #1 rating is completely unrelated to Swayze’s current health crisis. This movie has everything: music, dancing, love story and touchy subject matter (abortion, lies, cheating). Here we see Patrick Swayze at his brazen best, Jennifer Grey pre-nose job (which renders her completely unrecognizable) and Jerry Orbach as the softie in a hard shell. Remember, a good man can always admit when he’s wrong.
2. Certain of the 80s Brat Pack Movies. Whenever I’m surfing and come across one of these 80s classics, I secretly jump for joy. Although I would probably prioritize them like this if I was forced to: Sixteen Candles, Pretty In Pink, The Breakfast Club. The common link here is Molly Ringwald, which, in and of itself is nothing spectacular but is actually rather strange. With these movies, you can relive some of your worst teenage nightmares. Or not.
3. Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. It was cool when I was a senior in high school to think that Ferris did what we all hoped to do on Senior Skip Day. Now it’s cool to see that Ferris did what we all wish we could do when we “bang out” occasionally from the real world.
4. That Thing You Do. Watch this at your own risk, because you will be relegated to singing that damn theme song for the next 70 days. Not that that’s a bad thing, but just that it’ll happen. Liv Tyler and Tom Hanks shine in this movie. If you haven’t seen it, do so, and then see how quickly it climbs into your top 10.
5. Top Gun. Granted, it is hard now to overlook the fact that Tom Cruise is a psycho. But then, he wasn’t, the blinding white smile worked for us and Goose was cooler then than he ever was as Dr. Green. And who wouldn’t want IceMan as their wingman? There’s action, music and predictable drama (which is still suspenseful even on the 10,000th viewing), which makes this a great sofa-warming activity, particularly on a rainy/snowy/sick day.
6. Father of the Bride. I’m not a huge Steve Martin fan, but he delivers well here as the poor Dad who is forced through the wedding planning while dragging his heels about letting his little girl go. I would imagine that if I were a normal girl (which I’m not), I’d want to be as idealistic as Annie, without the richie rich fiancé. Deep down, I’m just looking to dance with my Dad at my wedding, which she doesn’t get to do either, so maybe that’s why I relate to this one so well. Martin Short wins huge points as the wedding planner. Note that Father of the Bride II does not make this list. And for good reason.
7. What About Bob. This movie wouldn’t make most lists, but it makes mine. As a hypochondriac, I can relate and Bill Murray is the best at over the top hypochondria. The fact that Dr. Marvin’s family doesn’t see how insane Bob is, and actually adopts him, makes this storyline hilarious in a totally unrealistic way. I laugh at the same points each time.
8. Better Off Dead. Of all of John Cusack's movies, I think this is probably the best. Well, maybe tied with Say Anything, but really the only good point of Say Anything is the "In Your Eyes" driveway moment. But what makes this one brilliant is Lane’s quest for the hot French chick who really understands English and his pal Miles who forces him to ski crazy-ass trails to win her over.
9. An Officer and a Gentleman. Ok, who hasn’t dreamt of your hot boyfriend coming into your dreadful place of employment in dress whites and (literally) sweeping you out of there once and for all. C’mon, admit it. And if that’s not why you watch it, you watch it to hear Lou Gossett say “Mayo-NAISE.”
10. War Games. I was toying with Rain Man and Risky Business, but just couldn’t stomach another Tom Cruise movie. For the computer geeks among us, especially those of us who were computer geeks with our Dads and our Commodore 64s, this movie rules forever. Forget that we’re now beyond the DOS screen and telephone handset modems. Forget that a national security computer will never call you in this day and age (or will it? One can only hope…) But Matthew Broderick is excellent as David, running the emotional acting gamut with aplomb: from cocksure teen changing his calculus grade to scared little shit running from the Feds. Dabney Coleman is only marginally scary. The big scary guy here is NORAD, the nuclear weapons launching system. Yikes! “Do you want to play a game?”
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Monday, March 3, 2008
Yes, I'm a woman...
Yes, I'm a woman and No, I don't feel particularly compelled to vote for Hillary Clinton for that reason alone. And let me tell you why. (I know you didn't ask but this is going to make me feel better.)
First, I just don't trust her. No one loved the Clinton years more than I did (Bill had, for me, that certain je ne c'est quoi) but towards the end of Bill's tenure, it became startlingly clear to me that there was more going on in the White House than was on the up and up. I was nuts then to overlook Whitewater, Vince Foster, pardoning the Riches, etc. And since then Bill has had the opportunity to hook up with various other elements, tasteful and not, for various personal business dealings that may (or may not) be conflicts of interest in the future should he be back in Washington's inner circle. Of course, we may not know for certain if HRC never releases any tax returns, but that's a story for another day. (But really, what's she hiding that she can't release them now?)
Second, Hillary is running, and I resent the fact that she gave her campaign a boost by making it the Bill and Hillary show. Granted that has been tamed down since Bill started to go all scary multi-personality out on the stump, but I still think we'd be electing a pair to office, and Bill is so 90s. It's a new milennium with new issues and I'm not sure the Old Way is the Best Way going forward.
Third, I've seen too many faces of Hillary on this campaign. As Bill Maher said, it's like watching a guy fighting with his girlfriend: there's the tears, then the loving "I'm honored to be sitting here by you", then the rage for no apparent reason ("Shame on you Barack Obama"), then the sarcasm ("The heavens will open..."), then the woman card, then the fear-mongering. Look, pick a persona and stick with it. You're changing your personality along with your suits. One thing I like about Barack Obama is that he's been reassuringly consistent. No matter when I watch and listen, I get the same person: measured, reassuring and calm. Hillary is teetering on schizophrenia and it makes me nervous. When that phone rings in the White House at 3 a.m., which Hillary will we get?
Lastly, I don't get the "experience" thing. She has one more term than Obama and little more in the way of accomplishments. Where has she dealt with "crisis"? How does serving on the Arms Services Committee qualify as "crisis"? Get it? I knew you would.
So no, I don't feel as if I'm turning my back on my gender by not voting for her. I'm still in this to vote for the person I feel is best for the job. And from what I've seen in this campaign (and with the lack of compelling network tv, that's more viewing than I care to admit), I just don't think that's Hillary Clinton.
First, I just don't trust her. No one loved the Clinton years more than I did (Bill had, for me, that certain je ne c'est quoi) but towards the end of Bill's tenure, it became startlingly clear to me that there was more going on in the White House than was on the up and up. I was nuts then to overlook Whitewater, Vince Foster, pardoning the Riches, etc. And since then Bill has had the opportunity to hook up with various other elements, tasteful and not, for various personal business dealings that may (or may not) be conflicts of interest in the future should he be back in Washington's inner circle. Of course, we may not know for certain if HRC never releases any tax returns, but that's a story for another day. (But really, what's she hiding that she can't release them now?)
Second, Hillary is running, and I resent the fact that she gave her campaign a boost by making it the Bill and Hillary show. Granted that has been tamed down since Bill started to go all scary multi-personality out on the stump, but I still think we'd be electing a pair to office, and Bill is so 90s. It's a new milennium with new issues and I'm not sure the Old Way is the Best Way going forward.
Third, I've seen too many faces of Hillary on this campaign. As Bill Maher said, it's like watching a guy fighting with his girlfriend: there's the tears, then the loving "I'm honored to be sitting here by you", then the rage for no apparent reason ("Shame on you Barack Obama"), then the sarcasm ("The heavens will open..."), then the woman card, then the fear-mongering. Look, pick a persona and stick with it. You're changing your personality along with your suits. One thing I like about Barack Obama is that he's been reassuringly consistent. No matter when I watch and listen, I get the same person: measured, reassuring and calm. Hillary is teetering on schizophrenia and it makes me nervous. When that phone rings in the White House at 3 a.m., which Hillary will we get?
Lastly, I don't get the "experience" thing. She has one more term than Obama and little more in the way of accomplishments. Where has she dealt with "crisis"? How does serving on the Arms Services Committee qualify as "crisis"? Get it? I knew you would.
So no, I don't feel as if I'm turning my back on my gender by not voting for her. I'm still in this to vote for the person I feel is best for the job. And from what I've seen in this campaign (and with the lack of compelling network tv, that's more viewing than I care to admit), I just don't think that's Hillary Clinton.
Where the hell is spring?
I've officially changed the season to spring. I've had enough with shoveling, heating the apartment and lamenting winter. This coming weekend we "spring ahead" with the time change, which means it'll be pitch black (again) when I wake up at 6 a.m., but lighter at night as I head to the gym.
So today I bought daffodils which are wrapped up tight as if they too are in denial about this whole winter thing lingering on. I'm wearing a cotton sweater and lighter jacket today, as if I actually believe the weatherman when he says it'll be 50 by lunch. I can only hope that for once, he is accurate. Otherwise, it'll be a chilly day for me all the way around. But for the sand and salt pileups on the side of the roads, and the cavernous potholes, is outdoor biking season finally approaching?
(Trip countdown alert Dear Sister, don't read this) So we are now 44 days away from April in Paris (and Vienna) and we have booked the airport shuttles and nailed down a comfortable (with room still left) itinerary in Paris. The problem is how we sort out our activities with a mere 29 hours in Vienna. I figure we'll be at our hotel at noon on Tuesday and leaving for the airport around 5:00 p.m. on Wednesday. Our To Do list is longer than I anticipated and may require some tweaking to get it down to manageable but not utterly exhausting. The goal is not to have to return to Vienna. Ever. But I said that once before.
So today I bought daffodils which are wrapped up tight as if they too are in denial about this whole winter thing lingering on. I'm wearing a cotton sweater and lighter jacket today, as if I actually believe the weatherman when he says it'll be 50 by lunch. I can only hope that for once, he is accurate. Otherwise, it'll be a chilly day for me all the way around. But for the sand and salt pileups on the side of the roads, and the cavernous potholes, is outdoor biking season finally approaching?
(Trip countdown alert Dear Sister, don't read this) So we are now 44 days away from April in Paris (and Vienna) and we have booked the airport shuttles and nailed down a comfortable (with room still left) itinerary in Paris. The problem is how we sort out our activities with a mere 29 hours in Vienna. I figure we'll be at our hotel at noon on Tuesday and leaving for the airport around 5:00 p.m. on Wednesday. Our To Do list is longer than I anticipated and may require some tweaking to get it down to manageable but not utterly exhausting. The goal is not to have to return to Vienna. Ever. But I said that once before.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Planning Paris -- the Logistics update
For this installment of “The Battis Girls Take on Paris”, I’ll just update you on what we’ve been doing to get ready.
I have officially launched the countdown clock in my head. Dear Sister doesn’t like me to announce the countdown regularly because that puts here X number of days closer to a plane. She is of the ilk that it’s better to just be beamed up to the location, which I think is what she pretends to do in flight, since she seems hardly bothered by actually flying. But DS, don’t read this, there are 70 days until departure. I need this mental countdown to get me through the mundane and minutiae parts of life.
So, independent of me, DS has been collecting things she wants to do and see in a Word document. She has Word documents for many destinations world-wide, and I take my hat off to her for organizing her wish lists like this ahead of ever actually planning to travel to these places. DS is now taking her Paris and Vienna Word documents and plotting the sights listed in them on a map. She is intending to conquer sights in logical order, based on geographical location, which in Paris is fairly easy to do. I think she is also prioritizing things since we know that we won’t get to everything on the list (but will damn well try!)
I have only three must-see destinations for this trip, the Louvre (to see the Vermeers with my sister), the L’Orangerie museum in Paris and the Kunsthistorisches in Vienna. The Orangerie was closed for renovations the first four times I traveled to Paris and reopened the week after my fifth trip to Paris. I missed it bythismuch. The Kusthistorisches I have visited before, but in 2003, its Vermeer was on loan to Tokyo, and that is our sole reason to visit Vienna. We have written the museum and confirmed that it will be on view in April (or else we’ll be knocking into the woman who confirmed its availability!)
I think we have decided that for the purposes of the Paris museum pass, we will be buying the 6 day pass (60 euro) and use it from the Thursday we arrive through the Monday before we depart for Vienna. I think we can easily see the museums we want to see in that amount of time, and easily recoup our money on the pass before we head to Vienna. That will leave one full day and one half day in Paris when we return from Vienna to do things not on the pass, such as Montmartre, Eiffel Tower (we will be staying in that neighborhood then anyway), Musee Marmottan, shopping, etc.
The last logistical bit is to book airport shuttles. Taxis in Paris can be expensive, but I figured our arrival and departure times were well outside of rush hour, so we’d be fine. But today I read that taxi drivers are threatening to strike intermittently for the next few months, so I am going to book shuttles just to have them handy. It’s a flat rate, but oftentimes you have to wait a bit before they pick you up at the airport, and you have to share the ride with other travelers (again, may not be a problem given our time of day to travel). So that is on my agenda as well.
My other task is to pick restaurants all over the city that we could eat at when we are nearby. Since we’re in Vienna for literally 27 hours, I am not as concerned about where we eat, since in my mind, Figlmuller’s heavenly wienerschnitzel is all we’ll need. So I’m focusing on Paris and am devouring a book of restaurant reviews written for Parisians. I am bound and determined not to eat in the touristy, overpriced cafes and still to enjoy authentic Parisian cuisine. I am highlighting restaurants in every arrondissement just to have some ideas handy when we’re there. If anything outstanding pops up, I’ll have the hotels book ahead for us.
Overall, I think we are slowly getting ready. I am not doing much reading as I’ve been to both places before and am really looking forward to just revisiting Paris (one can never see too much Paris) and seeing it through the eyes of my DS.
I have officially launched the countdown clock in my head. Dear Sister doesn’t like me to announce the countdown regularly because that puts here X number of days closer to a plane. She is of the ilk that it’s better to just be beamed up to the location, which I think is what she pretends to do in flight, since she seems hardly bothered by actually flying. But DS, don’t read this, there are 70 days until departure. I need this mental countdown to get me through the mundane and minutiae parts of life.
So, independent of me, DS has been collecting things she wants to do and see in a Word document. She has Word documents for many destinations world-wide, and I take my hat off to her for organizing her wish lists like this ahead of ever actually planning to travel to these places. DS is now taking her Paris and Vienna Word documents and plotting the sights listed in them on a map. She is intending to conquer sights in logical order, based on geographical location, which in Paris is fairly easy to do. I think she is also prioritizing things since we know that we won’t get to everything on the list (but will damn well try!)
I have only three must-see destinations for this trip, the Louvre (to see the Vermeers with my sister), the L’Orangerie museum in Paris and the Kunsthistorisches in Vienna. The Orangerie was closed for renovations the first four times I traveled to Paris and reopened the week after my fifth trip to Paris. I missed it bythismuch. The Kusthistorisches I have visited before, but in 2003, its Vermeer was on loan to Tokyo, and that is our sole reason to visit Vienna. We have written the museum and confirmed that it will be on view in April (or else we’ll be knocking into the woman who confirmed its availability!)
I think we have decided that for the purposes of the Paris museum pass, we will be buying the 6 day pass (60 euro) and use it from the Thursday we arrive through the Monday before we depart for Vienna. I think we can easily see the museums we want to see in that amount of time, and easily recoup our money on the pass before we head to Vienna. That will leave one full day and one half day in Paris when we return from Vienna to do things not on the pass, such as Montmartre, Eiffel Tower (we will be staying in that neighborhood then anyway), Musee Marmottan, shopping, etc.
The last logistical bit is to book airport shuttles. Taxis in Paris can be expensive, but I figured our arrival and departure times were well outside of rush hour, so we’d be fine. But today I read that taxi drivers are threatening to strike intermittently for the next few months, so I am going to book shuttles just to have them handy. It’s a flat rate, but oftentimes you have to wait a bit before they pick you up at the airport, and you have to share the ride with other travelers (again, may not be a problem given our time of day to travel). So that is on my agenda as well.
My other task is to pick restaurants all over the city that we could eat at when we are nearby. Since we’re in Vienna for literally 27 hours, I am not as concerned about where we eat, since in my mind, Figlmuller’s heavenly wienerschnitzel is all we’ll need. So I’m focusing on Paris and am devouring a book of restaurant reviews written for Parisians. I am bound and determined not to eat in the touristy, overpriced cafes and still to enjoy authentic Parisian cuisine. I am highlighting restaurants in every arrondissement just to have some ideas handy when we’re there. If anything outstanding pops up, I’ll have the hotels book ahead for us.
Overall, I think we are slowly getting ready. I am not doing much reading as I’ve been to both places before and am really looking forward to just revisiting Paris (one can never see too much Paris) and seeing it through the eyes of my DS.
Really, it shouldn’t be this difficult to vote
Time to vent...
Being a commuter to the Hub for as long as I have, I learned to work my life around things you just have to do at home. Like vote. So it is a joy that the polling places open at 7 a.m. and stay open until 8 p.m. so that people like me can wedge it into a day already full of 8 hours of work and 2 hours of commuting. You’d think that would be fairly straightforward, no?
Not in Beverly.
I opted to vote at 7 a.m. because I teach spinning at 7 p.m. and I didn’t want to run the risk of the commuter rail not delivering me back to Beverly in a timely fashion to get me to both a potentially crowded polling place and to my class. So I was there when the voting location opened. At 7:00 on the dot, I had 24 minutes to go in, vote, and drive 2 miles to the train to make a 7:24 train. Again, fairly straightforward, right?
I’m not sure how things work in other cities in other parts of the country, but in Beverly, the people running the polls are all retirees. Ordinarily I’d say they love what they do, it gets them out of the house for a while and they are efficient.
Not in Beverly. Not on Super Tuesday. Not yesterday.
I walk up to the “check in” table, and there are two workers sitting there, one with a book of registered voters, sorted alphabetically by street from A to some midpoint in the alphabet (let’s say J), and another worker with a similar book with streets starting with letters from K-Z.
An elderly woman is in front of me, checking in. She must have been Undeclared, and in the state of Massachusetts, for primary purposes, you have to declare for the day. No, check that, you have to declare for the approximately 15 seconds it’s going to take you to pick a ballot, walk to the booth, vote and walk out. Elderly Woman is baffled that she is Undeclared, and is being forced to pick. “What are my choices?” she asks.
I am starting to simmer. Are you kidding me? What are your choices? How the hell have you done this for the last, oh, SEVENTY YEARS?
So the polling folks walk her through the list of possible parties she can belong to for the next 15 seconds. I think to myself that this isn’t going to be engraved on her tombstone, just get her out the door. She finally screams “YES” to the polling person when they reach “Working Party” as a possible choice. I don’t know about you, but I follow politics and I don’t know the damndest thing about the Working Party, but all of a sudden, Mrs. “What Are My Choices” is now a member. Ok, breathe...so then she picks up the “Pink Ballot” to vote Republican (probably because it was a nicer shade of pink than the Democratic baby blue, and there were, as you know, no Working Party ballots) and off she goes. Phew. It’s 7:06. I’m still good.
I’m up next. The female poll worker (with the A-J book) looked up at me and said “What street?” I said, “Summer” and she starts flipping through her book, looking for Summer. Then she starts lamenting that “we didn’t have time to put the tabs on yet...” referring to the tabs on the edge of the pages that could get you to a section of the book faster. Rather than going page...by...page. Then, right there, she starts putting the tabs on. As if that’s an ok thing to do with (now) three people standing to check in. I realize she is keeper of the A-J street book, so I step to the male poll worker and tell him my street: Summer (trying to hurry this along) and he says “That’s her...” pointing to the tab-less wonder I just purposely overlooked. I said “No, Summer is you, that’s an S.” I can understand that not using the alphabet every day, you might be tempted to forget what letter falls where in the overall alphabetical universe, so I am not surprised when he asks again, “Summer?” and I said “Yes....” And he said “What number?” and then I hear “Three” from behind me.
Three? And I turn and look and there is a guy who lives up the street from me. Now trying to push to the front of the line (of three). I politely say “NO, actually it’s EIGHT.” Poll guy scans down to number eight Summer and asks my name. I tell him and he says I’m not registered. I clearly see my name and point to it to expedite this already painful process (although for a moment I ponder the thought that I could come back later and just point to any name without a checkmark next to it and vote in their place, but I don't have time to linger and file that lack-of-ID-at-voting-places argument away for later). He asks me which way I’m going to go party-wise, I assert Democrat, he marks it, I take the blue ballot and move on. 7:12. There’s still time.
I get to the little voting nook and I savor the moment. I’ve been waiting to do this, so I take the time to scan the list, find my candidate and carefully fill in the circle to the right of his name. Then I see that there are four or five other positions on the ballot being voted for. I look at my watch, 7:14, no time...gotta run.
I turn and head toward what appears to me to be a check-out table. “Where’d you check in?” they ask and I point to Alphabetically Challenged and Tab-less back by the door. “You have to check out over there,” and they point to the other side of the room. Clearly. So here I go again, back to two more retirees with their tab-less books of streets sorted alphabetically, and I steel myself for more confusion. I walk up to the male who I see has the book for “L-Z” at the ready. I say “Summer Street” and he asks, “what number?” And I hear, again, “THREE” from behind me.
WHAT
THE
HELL? (ok, not really “hell” but this is a family-friendly blog)
And I turn and look at the neighbor who I barely know and I say “No, he’s asking ME, not YOU. I am just trying to get out of here to get on my damn train.” Apparently, I raised my voice because the female worker looks at me and says, “There’s no reason to panic...(long pause)...although the weather is quite bad and it’ll be a tough drive through all this traffic.”
Really, you think? Thanks for the enlightenment. Speechless, I look at my watch…7:16.
I turn back to poll guy and I have to point again at my name because it appears to him that I’m not registered (although I made it this far through the stringent check-in process already!) and then I stand there. There’s no tally box in sight and I’m holding my ballot.
“Where does this go?” I ask.
And both poll workers turn and point to a box that is easily, 50 paces from the check out. Is that safe? Is that logical? Whatever, time is a-wasting.
I run my ballot through the slot and check the counter. Just to make sure it registered. And the counter goes from 0002 to 0003. I look at my watch. 7:18 and I’m only the third person to make it through the Beverly Electoral Obstacle Course. That, my friends, is just ludicrous. But I am certain that with crowds it would have only gotten worse (although the tabs on the street listing books might have sped the process up a bit), so I am glad I had it done before the work day.
And I made my train. Just.
In retrospect, I really believe the Iraqis had it easier in their recent, first free elections. Walk in, vote, dip your thumb in indelible blue ink, move along. I’m sure they got in and out in under 18 minutes. No tabs and no alphabetical knowledge required.
Being a commuter to the Hub for as long as I have, I learned to work my life around things you just have to do at home. Like vote. So it is a joy that the polling places open at 7 a.m. and stay open until 8 p.m. so that people like me can wedge it into a day already full of 8 hours of work and 2 hours of commuting. You’d think that would be fairly straightforward, no?
Not in Beverly.
I opted to vote at 7 a.m. because I teach spinning at 7 p.m. and I didn’t want to run the risk of the commuter rail not delivering me back to Beverly in a timely fashion to get me to both a potentially crowded polling place and to my class. So I was there when the voting location opened. At 7:00 on the dot, I had 24 minutes to go in, vote, and drive 2 miles to the train to make a 7:24 train. Again, fairly straightforward, right?
I’m not sure how things work in other cities in other parts of the country, but in Beverly, the people running the polls are all retirees. Ordinarily I’d say they love what they do, it gets them out of the house for a while and they are efficient.
Not in Beverly. Not on Super Tuesday. Not yesterday.
I walk up to the “check in” table, and there are two workers sitting there, one with a book of registered voters, sorted alphabetically by street from A to some midpoint in the alphabet (let’s say J), and another worker with a similar book with streets starting with letters from K-Z.
An elderly woman is in front of me, checking in. She must have been Undeclared, and in the state of Massachusetts, for primary purposes, you have to declare for the day. No, check that, you have to declare for the approximately 15 seconds it’s going to take you to pick a ballot, walk to the booth, vote and walk out. Elderly Woman is baffled that she is Undeclared, and is being forced to pick. “What are my choices?” she asks.
I am starting to simmer. Are you kidding me? What are your choices? How the hell have you done this for the last, oh, SEVENTY YEARS?
So the polling folks walk her through the list of possible parties she can belong to for the next 15 seconds. I think to myself that this isn’t going to be engraved on her tombstone, just get her out the door. She finally screams “YES” to the polling person when they reach “Working Party” as a possible choice. I don’t know about you, but I follow politics and I don’t know the damndest thing about the Working Party, but all of a sudden, Mrs. “What Are My Choices” is now a member. Ok, breathe...so then she picks up the “Pink Ballot” to vote Republican (probably because it was a nicer shade of pink than the Democratic baby blue, and there were, as you know, no Working Party ballots) and off she goes. Phew. It’s 7:06. I’m still good.
I’m up next. The female poll worker (with the A-J book) looked up at me and said “What street?” I said, “Summer” and she starts flipping through her book, looking for Summer. Then she starts lamenting that “we didn’t have time to put the tabs on yet...” referring to the tabs on the edge of the pages that could get you to a section of the book faster. Rather than going page...by...page. Then, right there, she starts putting the tabs on. As if that’s an ok thing to do with (now) three people standing to check in. I realize she is keeper of the A-J street book, so I step to the male poll worker and tell him my street: Summer (trying to hurry this along) and he says “That’s her...” pointing to the tab-less wonder I just purposely overlooked. I said “No, Summer is you, that’s an S.” I can understand that not using the alphabet every day, you might be tempted to forget what letter falls where in the overall alphabetical universe, so I am not surprised when he asks again, “Summer?” and I said “Yes....” And he said “What number?” and then I hear “Three” from behind me.
Three? And I turn and look and there is a guy who lives up the street from me. Now trying to push to the front of the line (of three). I politely say “NO, actually it’s EIGHT.” Poll guy scans down to number eight Summer and asks my name. I tell him and he says I’m not registered. I clearly see my name and point to it to expedite this already painful process (although for a moment I ponder the thought that I could come back later and just point to any name without a checkmark next to it and vote in their place, but I don't have time to linger and file that lack-of-ID-at-voting-places argument away for later). He asks me which way I’m going to go party-wise, I assert Democrat, he marks it, I take the blue ballot and move on. 7:12. There’s still time.
I get to the little voting nook and I savor the moment. I’ve been waiting to do this, so I take the time to scan the list, find my candidate and carefully fill in the circle to the right of his name. Then I see that there are four or five other positions on the ballot being voted for. I look at my watch, 7:14, no time...gotta run.
I turn and head toward what appears to me to be a check-out table. “Where’d you check in?” they ask and I point to Alphabetically Challenged and Tab-less back by the door. “You have to check out over there,” and they point to the other side of the room. Clearly. So here I go again, back to two more retirees with their tab-less books of streets sorted alphabetically, and I steel myself for more confusion. I walk up to the male who I see has the book for “L-Z” at the ready. I say “Summer Street” and he asks, “what number?” And I hear, again, “THREE” from behind me.
WHAT
THE
HELL? (ok, not really “hell” but this is a family-friendly blog)
And I turn and look at the neighbor who I barely know and I say “No, he’s asking ME, not YOU. I am just trying to get out of here to get on my damn train.” Apparently, I raised my voice because the female worker looks at me and says, “There’s no reason to panic...(long pause)...although the weather is quite bad and it’ll be a tough drive through all this traffic.”
Really, you think? Thanks for the enlightenment. Speechless, I look at my watch…7:16.
I turn back to poll guy and I have to point again at my name because it appears to him that I’m not registered (although I made it this far through the stringent check-in process already!) and then I stand there. There’s no tally box in sight and I’m holding my ballot.
“Where does this go?” I ask.
And both poll workers turn and point to a box that is easily, 50 paces from the check out. Is that safe? Is that logical? Whatever, time is a-wasting.
I run my ballot through the slot and check the counter. Just to make sure it registered. And the counter goes from 0002 to 0003. I look at my watch. 7:18 and I’m only the third person to make it through the Beverly Electoral Obstacle Course. That, my friends, is just ludicrous. But I am certain that with crowds it would have only gotten worse (although the tabs on the street listing books might have sped the process up a bit), so I am glad I had it done before the work day.
And I made my train. Just.
In retrospect, I really believe the Iraqis had it easier in their recent, first free elections. Walk in, vote, dip your thumb in indelible blue ink, move along. I’m sure they got in and out in under 18 minutes. No tabs and no alphabetical knowledge required.
Friday, February 1, 2008
Getting my groove back
In non-political news, it seems I'm finally finding my footing again in the world of spinning. It had been puzzling me for weeks because I felt as if I was in a funk following the loss of my hard drive and spinning music collection (rendering me temporarily unable to create new rides) and the Christmas/New Year's holidays (rendering me without my usually Mon/Tue night classes two weeks in a row). I spent that time taking classes elsewhere, reminding myself what it is like to be a student in a class and, quite frankly, trying to steal ideas I can bring back to my classes.
To no avail.
My first several classes back in the saddle were disappointing. For me. My classes didn't complain and they were all just in that New Year's "burning off the damage" mindset. Indeed, I had dozens of new students, who required various amounts of coddling and hand holding, as well as adjustments to my usual rides. Maybe that threw me off too.
But it continued. Was my confidence shaken from my performance review? Perhaps. I was more irritated than disappointed that it was obvious that my fitness director didn't know she was seeing a Madd Dogg ride as opposed to 80s high hair aerobics on a bike. The fact that I wasn't doing sprints (unsafe) or jumps (unsafe) or using faster music (on a slow hill climb?) really seemed to nag at her. But I couldn't convince myself that I still knew better. I'm a 4.0 student in every other aspect of life, this was really getting under my skin.
So, I did what any other desperate woman would do and I wrote to the woman who inspired me to do teach to begin with. I hadn't talked to her in a while and wasn't sure she'd remember me. When I told her what I was up against, she wrote me a lengthy missive back, and in short said "Stay true to yourself, you know the right thing, and if you give them that, they will come...it will come." But also, she got me a gig subbing classes where she teaches now.
And so I have subbed there twice. Both times I subbed, I presented rides I had done before. Both times I knocked it out of the park. They were a phenomenal group to teach, which is just amazing to me given that I'd never met them before; usually it takes time to build a rapport to the point where it is emotionally inspiring. But I walked in confidently, presented my ride the best I knew how, and had them in the palm of my hand faster than you can say "that was your warmup".
And with those rides at a club that is totally unknown to me, I was reborn. I know I still have it and I can deliver it and I can have people leaving with that happy glow. For me, that's what it's all about, sharing with them what made me love this spinning thing to begin with.
To no avail.
My first several classes back in the saddle were disappointing. For me. My classes didn't complain and they were all just in that New Year's "burning off the damage" mindset. Indeed, I had dozens of new students, who required various amounts of coddling and hand holding, as well as adjustments to my usual rides. Maybe that threw me off too.
But it continued. Was my confidence shaken from my performance review? Perhaps. I was more irritated than disappointed that it was obvious that my fitness director didn't know she was seeing a Madd Dogg ride as opposed to 80s high hair aerobics on a bike. The fact that I wasn't doing sprints (unsafe) or jumps (unsafe) or using faster music (on a slow hill climb?) really seemed to nag at her. But I couldn't convince myself that I still knew better. I'm a 4.0 student in every other aspect of life, this was really getting under my skin.
So, I did what any other desperate woman would do and I wrote to the woman who inspired me to do teach to begin with. I hadn't talked to her in a while and wasn't sure she'd remember me. When I told her what I was up against, she wrote me a lengthy missive back, and in short said "Stay true to yourself, you know the right thing, and if you give them that, they will come...it will come." But also, she got me a gig subbing classes where she teaches now.
And so I have subbed there twice. Both times I subbed, I presented rides I had done before. Both times I knocked it out of the park. They were a phenomenal group to teach, which is just amazing to me given that I'd never met them before; usually it takes time to build a rapport to the point where it is emotionally inspiring. But I walked in confidently, presented my ride the best I knew how, and had them in the palm of my hand faster than you can say "that was your warmup".
And with those rides at a club that is totally unknown to me, I was reborn. I know I still have it and I can deliver it and I can have people leaving with that happy glow. For me, that's what it's all about, sharing with them what made me love this spinning thing to begin with.
One more before Tuesday
So, if you read nothing else this weekend, read this. It says everything that I wish I was talented and articulate enough to say about this Super Tuesday primary.
And if you do nothing else Tuesday, at least vote. Even if you don't vote my way, even if you have to navigate your way over, under and around a completely unnecessary Superbowl parade, get out there and celebrate one of the greatest rights we have in this nation.
Over and out.
For now.
And if you do nothing else Tuesday, at least vote. Even if you don't vote my way, even if you have to navigate your way over, under and around a completely unnecessary Superbowl parade, get out there and celebrate one of the greatest rights we have in this nation.
Over and out.
For now.
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