is it just me?

This weekend I traveled to Philadelphia for my niece's christening. In my family, we don't really do christenings (or baptisms or any of those things). But my sister's in-laws are Ukrainian Catholic and christening is a big deal. I think it's a nice idea, and it was a beautiful church. But the ceremony itself was a little nerve-wracking. My poor niece fell asleep on the way to the church, so she had to be woken up for the service. So, they wake her up, stuff her into a fluffy white dress, and take her into the church. The service starts at the back and the baby is handed over to the godmother. They walk down the aisle chanting something, and then she is handed over to the godfather for the remainder of the ceremony. So, the poor godfather has never met this baby before today (he's friends with my brother in law), has no children of his own, and as a medical resident was up until 3 am that morning. Once they pour the water on the baby she (surprise surprise) starts to cry. So now the godfather is trying to get her to stop crying which he has no earthly idea how to do. Then the priest says to him: hold this candle. Are you sure that's a good idea? He's now holding a crying baby in a highly flammable gown (not to mention the oil they're putting on her feet) and you want him to hold a candle? I see how this whole thing could go wrong in a hurry. Fortunately once the wax started dripping on her gown everyone thought better of it and he was allowed to hand the candle to the godmother. I think they probably should have let him hand the screaming baby to his mother but apparently that's not how it works. And the grandmother said that crying is good luck. I assume they say that because I am not sure what kid wouldn't cry, and you want to make it seem like a good thing. Anyway, she was successfully christenend (though apparently started crying each time the nuns touched her, not sure what to make of that).

Some other things I noticed about Philadelphia: 1) they talk funny, 2) they really like to eat a lot, 3) they sell crabs by prices (as in I'll have three $5s and a $7), 4) they really really love Benjamin Franklin. It seems nice there, though big and somewhat uncrowded which while it sounds nice makes the place feel a little rundown. I didn't really see that much of Philly so I can't pass much judgment, but overall I'd give it a 7.

I was feeling kind of depressed before I went and thought maybe a few days with my family would help. Not so much. I realized that if you're depressed it's probably bettter just to drink. (And I wonder how more than half my family ended up as alcoholics.)

Apparently, you can now celebrate the major holidays year round. I had the unfortunate experience of being at the mall the other day (something I try to avoid but occasionally is a necessary evil) and guess who was there. Santa Claus. No shit. It was NOVEMBER 5. I mean, really. This is getting ridiculous. Kids were getting their picture taken with Santa no less than seven weeks before Christmas. This is outrageous. First of all, how can kids possibly believe in Santa if he spends two months at the mall? Who is making the toys? Isn't he supposed to be busy making lists? Overseeing elves? Tuning up the sleigh? Who knows, maybe kids these days are so jaded they don't believe in Santa anyway. But more than that, are we really already supposed to be thinking about Christmas? Apparently so. I have started getting circulars advertising Christmas decorations, all the candy now has holiday wrappers, and Santa is at the mall. Well, forget it. I am not falling for it. Just as I won't buy candy corn in September, I am not even going to think about Christmas until at least the month when it happens. I guess they have decided that Thanksgiving sucks for marketing, so they'll just skip right ahead to the big daddy of commercialism. I expect the day after Christmas we'll be seeing Valentine's day candy.

Have you also noticed that now they try to convince you that you should give gifts for all holidays? This year was the first time I was aware of Easter being marketed as a gift. But then people went a little crazy and were suggesting things you could buy mom and dad for Flag Day. Don't fall for the madness.

focus
Yesterday I went to Bosu class. If you are not familiar (and I will assume you're not) a Bosu ball is half a stability ball with a platform on the bottom so you can stand on it. It's supposed to help you build balance. Last night the class was much more crowded than usual, so we were in close quarters. The person in front of me had terrible balance. It's much harder to balance yourself when the person in front of you is wiggling all over the place. And this other lady had absolutely no rhythm. Being able to be successful in any aerobics class is sort of dependent on being able to follow the beat. If you cannot follow the beat, may I recommend two things: 1) don't wear a bright orange t-shirt that attracts attention, and 2) don't stand in the front row. I have perfected the art of locating the least conspicuous spot in the room. This is important because I am tall and most tall people inevitably look really dorky and awkward doing aerobics. I haven't quite figured out why, but it's true. If you're tall, stand to the side and try to blend in with the wall.

fancy meeting you here
One thing that I love about developing countries is that they sell things individually. You can buy one piece of gum, a single cigarette, one m&m (okay, I exaggerate). It's really quite handy. Here they don't really sell things individually. You always have to buy a pack. So, at the risk of sharing too much personal information yesterday at work I found myself needing to purchase a feminine product. There aren't any vending machines or anything here in the building, but I figured the mini bookstore in the Union probably had something. They did. In fact, they had individually wrapped tampons. And while in general I am a fan of this whole individually wrapped thing, not so much in this case. I think the box helps de-emphasize what the product is. But when it's there, in a protective cardboard tube with the name printed all over it, it's just this glaring little thing. However, left with little choice I picked one up and placed it on the counter with my diet soda and a piece of Laffy Taffy. I figured the transaction would be quick. The checker girl was being a little pokey, and as I am standing there I hear someone say "Hi, Liza". Super. Someone here knows me. I turn, and it's a guy I used to work with who kind of got pushed out into another department. "How are things in the building?" he asks, while looking at my purchases. "Oh, the same. Not much changes over there." I am too mortified to even ask him how he's doing. He's giving me this weird smirk. We sort of give each other a look like "Well, now you have more information than anybody needs about what's going on with me." The checkout girl is looking at me as if to say "Sucks that you had to see someone you know right now." The line is building behind me. She asks if I want a bag, which I do though at this point there is not much more to be lost. Note to self. Avoid having to repeat this transaction in the future.

update on my life as a heartless witch
For those of you who are regular readers, remember the parking lot guy who told me he was sick? (For new readers the original post was in May. Check the archives.) He's gone. I haven't seen him in months. The worst part of it is that I don't really feel sad that maybe he's dead, instead I just really wish I had asked him what was wrong with him. I mean, he looked more or less fine. I never would have known that he was sick if he hadn't told me. And he was working. And now maybe he's dead. I need to know what it is so I can know if I should be afraid of it. Man, I am a heartless jerk.

On Saturday I went to see a Jeff Tweedy acoustic show. For those not familiar with Jeff, he is the lead singer of the band Wilco. I was somewhat shocked when I realized that the first time I saw Jeff Tweedy was no less than eight years ago this month, on my 22nd birthday. I went in to that show with little to no idea what to expect. I had never heard of Wilco, though the person that was then my roommate and is now my husband lent me some cds. He was very jealous that I was getting to go. The show was upstairs at the Middle East in Boston, and to-date is still one of the best shows I have ever seen. I was bowled over. I was in love with Jeff Tweedy and his guitar and his nice songs. But enough nostalgia.

Fast forward eight years and several states, and Jeff Tweedy was coming to Madison. We bought our tickets early, and I was excited though careful not to get too excited since I knew there was a good chance it wouldn’t be as good as last time. We showed up early, though not that early and managed to get some decent seats. This couple who reminded me of Freddie Prinze, Jr. and Sarah Michelle Gellar asked if the seats next to us were taken. They were not. “Fantastic!” says Freddie. They set down their coats and prepared to go get a drink. “We’re heading to the bar. Can we get you guys anything?” What? Ummm….no? Weird. I mean, it was nice of him to offer, but still weird. We don’t know him. We just stood up so they could get in to the seats next to us.

So, prior to the show I had read that Tweedy would be “supported by” Glen Kotche. Glen is the drummer from Wilco, though when I read his bio I realized he was involved in several musical endeavors including being part of “an experimental rock trio” with Tweedy and some other guy, and half of an “experimental jazz duo”. That’s two “experimental” labels on one home page. To me ‘experimental’ is usually code for ‘weird’. So, I hoped that “supported by” meant Glen played the drums while Jeff Tweedy sang nice songs, and that this was not going to be some weird experimental show. So Glen comes out. By himself. This was bad sign number one. He starts playing the xylophone. Bad sign number two. He proceeds to play an entire set of bizarre percussion medleys that are part drum, but include background electronica, and ‘sounds’ like scratching, some instrument that is played by pulling a rope as well as some other weird stuff. Apparently each song represents a character in a story, according to Glen. At that point I am thinking “give me a break” when Freddie says “Love it. The premise. That’s beautiful.” Ugh.

So, for one song he actually plays the entire thing on the marimba. Once the domain of Miss America talent segments, apparently the marimba has gone experimental. Someone in the audience yelled something about John Tesh which, while unkind, was kind of funny. Glen wanted to be sure that we understood that he is much more than a drummer. He is an artist. And you know, I am sure he is, but I just wanted to here some nice songs and a little guitar. On with it already. (As a side note, during the marimba song I tried to figure out why so many people play it in pageants, and I realized it’s because you can do it with a nice look on your face. All wind instruments are out, for obvious reasons. You cannot look like Miss America playing the trumpet. Not everyone can sing and the piano is boring. Which leaves – the marimba! Plenty of opportunity to show a little flair, and you can smile the entire time.)

When Glen finally finished, I was nervous. I was thinking “is Jeff Tweedy going to go experimental on us?” We all know that Wilco sort of likes trying to do their own thing, sometimes resulting in songs people won’t like. I had no idea what was coming. So then Jeff finally comes on stage. I will say that compared to the last time I saw him he looks like shit. He’s gained weight, his hair is kind of a bad 70s cut. But guess what. His voice is still the same. And he still plays great songs. I remembered why I had fallen in love with Wilco and Jeff Tweedy. Because their lyrics are great and when someone is just standing there on stage singing the songs with nothing but a guitar you can really appreciate them. And he just stood there for an hour or so and played great songs and made people laugh. He played old songs. He even played an Uncle Tupelo song that he couldn’t remember the chords for. He made fun of the stupid people in the audience yelling (inexplicably) “WHITE SOX!!!!!!!!!!!” It was great. It made me happy.

That said, there were some things that did not make me happy. 1) Freddie (who tried hard again to buy us a drink) liked to sing along. In fact, a lot of people liked singing along. To that I say “Don’t.” I didn’t come here to listen to you sing along with Jeff Tweedy. I came here to listen to him sing all by himself. And Freddie like to sing along to Sarah Michelle. Look at her and sing. Blech. And after almost every song he would say “Love it.” Or “Beautiful.” Or “So awesome.” His commentary did not add much. 2) People in the audience yelled a lot. Between every song. And not just song names, which is tiresome but acceptable. Stupid things. And they wouldn’t give it a rest. And Jeff Tweedy thought they were annoying which made me mad because then we are all annoying by association. Stupid drunk college students. 3) The pregnant lady in front of me who really wasn’t paying attention, couldn’t sit still, and kept talking, and then spent the entire encore looking for her purse.

So for the first encore Jeff Tweedy’s son came out and played a song on the drums. That was great. Then Glen played with him and he was on his best behavior and only played normal drums. And then they left. And I wanted to leave. Because I don’t really like encores in general, and definitely not second ones. I think often the band thinks through the first encore, (when was the last time you went to a show without one?) but not the second. So we decided to go check out the view from upstairs for the final encore which consisted of one song: “Passenger Side”. It’s a great song, to be sure. BUT some jerk had been yelling for it all night and truthfully I was kind of disappointed that he got his way. But it was just the one song and then Jeff left and it was over. The end.

Well, I feel sad that Jason Mulgrew, who sends me all three of my readers, beat me to posting this, but just in case you didn't look at it over there, check it out. My husband wondered if they guy broke his hand a) beating up someone who said the Backstreet Boys were gay, or b) trying to dunk like Yao. And what's with the guy on his computer in the background? He really had to study and didn't have time for the lip sync extravaganza? Anyway, it's hilarious.

But the funny thing is I didn't find it on Jason's site. No sir, a guy who I used to be in grad school with who I have not seen since June sent it to me this morning. I never talk to him, but periodically he sends me really random forwards. Usually they are funny, though I often wonder why they make him think of me. But I appreciate the occasional, well thought out forward. Generally, I hate fowards. Especially the ones that say "Send this to ten strong women in your life" or some other pseudo self-help bullshit. And I have a friend who loves to send silly pictures of animals. And we all still have that friend who wants us to sign a petition to save sex slaves in Cambodia or whatever else. People don't think these things through. They just send them to everyone in their address book. But in this case, I feel that this guy is only trying to send me things I will enjoy. And this one was so funny I passed it on, but only to the three people I thought would really appreciate it. I mean, not everyone thinks Chinese lip syncers are funny. But I bet you will. So, if you must forward, please do so responsibly.

Yesterday one of the student hourlies here asked me how old I was. So of course I had to ask her how old she thought I was (she's 19 when perspective on age, and everything else for that matter, is a little screwy). She said she asked Eric (the computer guy) so she knows how old he thinks I am. First of all, I think it is hilarious that rather than ask me she asked him. I'm not scary. So I asked her what Eric said. "Well...um...I think you're YOUNGER than he said. Because, well, he said that you were, like, um....close to thirty? But I think you're like 27." That's hilarious. First of all, she felt bad telling me someone thought I was almost 30 because to a 19 year old that is the worst thing that could happen to a person. But I also think it's funny that she thinks 27 is considerably younger than almost 30. Anyway, I will be 30 in a few weeks so I broke it to her gently. But then she told me she thought I was cool, and I figure, if you're going to be 30 you might as well be a cool 30.

Yesterday the woman who works across the hall from me came in with 6 stitches in her forehead as the result of an unfortunately close encounter with the car door. After listening to her for 2 days, I would say the only thing worse than cracking your head open on the car door is having to tell everyone and their cousin the story. And In a close third, it's listening to the 50th person ask the woman across the hall "what happened to your head?" oy vey. Fortunately it's the weekend. Have a good one.

Normally, stereotypes=bad. But sometimes, stereotypes=okay because stereotype=true. The case I am referring to here is asian women drivers. I apologize if I have any asian women readers who are good drivers. But for the most part, this is a true stereotype. I have no idea why, though I wonder if it is that too many of them don't learn to drive until they are older which always makes for worse drivers. A good friend of mine growing up's mom was one of the worst drivers ever. I knew this long before I knew how to drive. And then I found out much later in life that she didn't learn to drive until she was in her 30s. I don't know why, that' s just how it was. Now, she was German, but I really think that learning too late in life thing is part of it. Because you get good at driving when you're young and too stupid to be scared of what's going on. But if you learn later and realize that driving is dangerous you never get good. Anyway, that's all I have to say about that.

My new yoga instructor is named Erin. She's not nearly as drugged out as the last girl. In fact, Erin is a kind of perky yoga instructor. But not too perky. I like her. But for me, she doesn't exist outside the yoga studio. I mean, that's the only place I ever see her. She's there when I get there and she's still there when I leave. Not that I really think she lives there, but still. So yesterday I saw her on the street and she recognized me and said hi and it freaked me out. Partly because it was weird to see her on the street. I only recognized her because she was still in her yoga teacher outfit. (And I will tell you this - if I looked like her in my yoga outfit I would wear that thing everywhere.) But also because she recognized me. For some reason in my mind I am invisible to people, even though I know who they are. For example, I recognize all the regulars on my bus. Sometimes I will see them somewhere else, and think - "hey, that's the lady that gets on by the golf course". But I always assume that they are not paying attention and have no idea who I am. But one day this summer I was in line for some food and a lady from my bus was in front of me. She saw me and said "Hey- bus lady!". Ha. So apparently for other people on my bus I am bus lady just as they are bus lady for me. For some reason I find this mind boggling.

nothing funny has happened to me in days. believe me, it's sadder for me than it is for you.

A couple of months ago I was at the dog park and I met a woman about my age who had a dog that looked like my dog. I talked to her for a few minutes, and that was that. Two days later at the bus stop outside my office I see her again. Being honest, I didn't remember her. I mean, I thought she looked vaguely familiar but it was mostly the fact that she was smiling and waving at me that tipped me off. Then I never saw her again. On Friday night we went to a pizza place and as we were leaving I saw her sitting at the bar. Apparently her boyfriend, who and happens to have the same name as my husband, is the manager there. Kind of a weird coincidence but not that big of a deal. Then on Sunday we were shopping at Bed Bath whatever and there she was again, working at the register. I was thinking 'this is weird' but whatever. Then yesterday, after taking the afternoon off and missing two buses (which means I was on a bus I never ride at a time I never ride the bus) I get off and am waiting to cross the street, and there she is right next to me. Now this is freaky. Seriously, if it wasn't all so completely random as to be impossible to be planned, I would think she was stalking me. And probably vice versa. So then she told me that on Saturday she got engaged. I acted really happy for her but I was really thinking - dude, I don't even really know this girl. I mean somehow in bizarro land it now seems like we're good friends and I should totally know that she's engaged, but in reality we have had one real conversation and then four conversations that center around "funny meeting you here". But since I don't have that many friends now I have decided she is my new best friend. But of course I can only see her randomly because I wouldn't know how to get in touch with her if I wanted to, unless I start lurking around her job which, well, if I'm not busy...

Last night was Halloween. We never get trick or treaters. Last night we had one group for a total of seven kids. That's it. All night. How disappointing. THe only good part is the kids made my dog act nutty so it's probably just as well there weren't any more of them. My neighbor also brought over her three month old who was a fairy. cute. But she didn't even take candy so it doesn't count. It's sad because the only thing I like about Halloween is the kids in costumes. Here in Madison the Saturday before Halloween there is a giant street party for college kids. People come from all over. They said there were 100,000 people here. That's a lot, especially since they all crowd in to a small area. A few years ago someone decided it would be fun to riot and now every Halloween we spend weeks talking about security measures and police overtime and every year thousands of kids come and get wasted and cause trouble. So now they say they're going to cancel it, but since 'it' isn't really anything I don't think it will work. They would have to convince all the bars to close which I don't think will be very popular. Anyway, Halloween is supposed to be for kids. I will be happy to see no more fake cobwebs, fake jack-o-lanterns (the kind that just are electric), and other stuff that isn't scary. Speaking of, I was in a State Park over the weekend and they had a "Fright Hike". It was freaky. I think it must have been done by teenage boys. Mostly it was just trash that was strewn about to look scary. There were beheaded teletubbies and weird fake limbs and a 'laboratory' but mostly it was just junk. And lots and lots of fake blood. I didn't like it. Now it's over. And I just get to eat the candy. I do like candy.