Becoming a more "mature" woman, or why it sucks to get older

So about a year ago, I injured myself playing kickball. Yes, KICKBALL. Yes, the game you learn in elementary school that is kind of like base/softball only you kick the same kind of ball people throw at you in dodge-ball.

As an aside:  I was horrible at kickball when I was younger (read: elementary school). For some reason my brain could not comprehend the whole idea of pop-fly means you have to stay on the base (if there are less than 2 outs) until it's caught bit. I would always run—always. This did NOT endear me to my fellow teammates, and they often counted me as an automatic out when figuring out the lineup and when we would have to go back on the field. As a result, I tended to gravitate more towards stuff like field hockey, where I could hit people I didn't like with sticks... on "accident."

At any rate, about a year ago when I was playing 2nd base, my teammate playing shortstop lobbed me the ball so I could get the out, but it was a little too far to the right. I pivoted to grab the ball, and although the rest of my body turned to the right, my right leg from the knee down stayed firmly in place. My guess is there was some sort of a divot, or maybe I was too close to the base, I don't know, but it hurt. A LOT. Since then I had been having periodic pain in my knee, and a big ol' lump just below my kneecap--right at the tip of my tibia.

Last month i got tired of dealing with the pain. It hurt too much, and I was about to lose insurance (it's a long story), and I figured it was now or never. So I made an appointment with an Orthopedist that specializes in sports injuries. Now don't think that the irony that I was going to a doctor who makes his money treating people who injured themselves playing "real" sports (football, baseball, golf, etc) for an injury I sustained playing a kid's game was lost on me one bit. It was all I could do to keep a straight face when he asked me to explain how I originally injured myself.

me: ah. yes. well I was playing kickball, you see...
dr: I'm sorry, did you say kickball? not softball?
me: no. kickball. It's a lot like softball, but with the big red ball.
dr: oh. ok. go on.
me: yes. ok. well I was playing kickball, and there was this play on second base.
dr: you were playing second, or rounding second?
me: playing second
dr: good job then. did you get the out?
me: um, yes.
dr. even better. let's look this over then, shall we?

And so there was some awkward leg manipulation—mostly because I was wearing a skirt—and in the end an MRI was ordered. I was sent off with paper in hand, and by the end of the week I was lying on my back with my leg firmly in a vise to keep it from moving.

Another aside here: have you ever noticed that the minute you are told you CANNOT move your leg, that's the minute you start exhibiting signs of restless leg syndrome? Seriously, the second that light turned on to signal the scan was starting, my leg wanted to immediately begin doing the Watusi. 

The diagnosis came a week after the first appointment: prepatellar and infrapatellar bursitis. So...

GOOD: no surgery
BAD: pain pretty much the rest of my life, can't wear a proper knee brace, going to have to modify my exercise routine in the extreme

But hey, no surgery, right?

#winning

So my husband seems to think I win an inordinate amount of things. I maintain that this is not true, but like most coincidences he's just remembering instances where I have won something (as opposed to not).  It's not that I don't believe in luck, I just have more faith in statistics and probability.  Also, it's best to be modest if you're constantly winning things.

Anyway, for Mother's Day this year, GeekMom (http://geekmom.com/) had a contest to win a Galaxy Note 2.  All you had to do was post simply leave a comment telling them why you needed your very own Samsung Galaxy Note II. The winner was chosen randomly.  

My comment? 

I need a smartphone I can see without putting my glasses on. 
Also, my “good” smartphone is going away in a month when I’m laid-off. 

I know, I know, pathetic.  But it is also true.

The TL:DR version of this, is that I won a Galaxy Note II from GeekMom. And I have to tell you I am OVER THE MOON with this phone.  Since I've had it (about a month now) I have all but stopped using the iPhone I use at my current job. This thing is a marvel. The hubby calls it "Jenn's Precious," because it is the "one gadget" to rule them all.

Of course, this did put a bit of a damper on what I was going to get for Mother's Day after all--but then w00t came to the rescue! After a little back/forth I received a Samsung NX100.  Such a marvel! It connects with my phone using the wifi.  I can control the shutter with an app on the Note II.  I've been taking pictures, making movies, downloading from the camera and sending the pics to my friends using SMS... even uploading it to youtube. And not using my computer at all to do it!

Want to see a video I recorded of a middle school band playing Queen songs? Sure you do.
http://youtu.be/TE7sFjBacjA

Which is all to say.. if I start making Gollum noises. You know why.

What do you mean you can't do yoga to Beastie Boys?

Sun Salutation
 from http://www.fischerartfoto.com

I love yoga. There, I said it. I love yoga. I love doing crazy hard poses, and I love just lying there on the floor acting like you're dead. I love yoga.

What I don't always love is the music my instructors put during practice. Don't get me wrong--I understand that the roots of yoga are deep in the art and practice of meditation, so it makes sense that a lot of the music sounds suspiciously like something you would hear as background music in a nice restaurant (think: the Savoy, not Chili's).  The music is supposed to be soothing, something you can tune out with relative ease while you concentrate on getting your leg wrapped around your neck.  And that's all well and good, except that's not the kind of yoga that I enjoy.  I like something more invigorating for my sun salutations and flows in general.

If you are like me and you want some beats in your practice, you have a few options.

1. If you're looking for a class to attend, check for words like flow, power or vinyasa in the class title. These classes tend to be more upbeat. If you're not big into meditation, you want to avoid words like relaxation, visualization, or gentle in the description.
2. Before you sign up for a class, sit in so you can get a feel for the tempo of the class.  You may not be able to change the music your instructor plays, but if the class has a good flow going, and the tempo is good, you probably won't notice.
3. If you have a home practice going, and you're working from a DVD or YouTube video, you can turn down the music and put on whatever you like.  This is my favorite thing to do, I even have specific playlists for a couple of my DVDs*. 
4. If you have a home practice going and you're NOT working from a DVD or YouTube video (from a journal or maybe a book or  whatever), experiment with different songs to find what motivates you. For my money nothing pushes me through a Sun Salutation like So What'cha Want (Beastie Boys) cranked to full volume.
   
5. No matter what kind of music you have on--make sure to match your movements to your breathing. A rule of thumb: if you are "crunching" your abs in a pose, breathe out to move into the pose. If you are stretching out your abs, breathe out to move into the pose.

Don't be afraid to experiment, but do keep in mind that if you are in a class, you probably should NOT be practicing with ear-buds firmly in your ear-holes. You need to be able to hear your instructor. Likewise, if you're overdubbing a DVD or video with your own music, make sure to keep the levels in balance so you can hear the video (at least for the first few times, if you know the video like the back of your hand, feel free to blast your music as loud as you like).

And most importantly, remember that even in a rigorous practice, you need some time to cool down and just lie on the floor like a rug. 

Namaste!

~N

---

* if you are curious, here is one of my playlists I use with my DVDs:

• So What'cha Want (Beastie Boys)
• Mama Said Knock You Out (LL Cool J)
• Christian Peace Prayer (Larisa Stow and Shakti Tribe)
• Drive By (Train)
• Titanium (David Guetta feat. Sia)
• Lose Yourself (Eminem)
• Viva La Vida (Coldplay)
  ----this is where the "cool down" sequence begins----
• The Lord's Prayer (Laris stow and Shakti Tribe)
• Breathe In Breathe Out (Mat Kearney)

Always look on the bright side of life [whistling...]

I was only in my tweens when I was formally introduced to Msr. Python and his circus.  In fact, my uncle (who is actually an ex-uncle now, but that's not really the point of this post) introduced me to Monty Python, Anne Rice and Watership Down all in the same summer visit.  Now that I think about it, that really was a LOT for an 11 year old to take in, but hey--there was no Hannah Montana then, okay?

I had been babysitting my younger cousins (and brother) so my parents could go out with my aunt & uncle.  And, dutifully, I had just put them to bed, and was watching premium cable I couldn't get at home.  When my family returned, I was invited to stay up and watch a video they had brought home... It was "Meaning of Life."  Now I'm not going to lie to you, there was more than a few scenes that I was sent out of the room (which was ironic, considering I had watched "History of the Word: Part 1" not one year previous... Madeline Kahn's orgy song, anyone?)  But for the most part, I enjoyed it.  I LOVED IT.  It was just that right balance between slapstick and cerebral comedy my poor little brain had been longing for.  My father loved Benny Hill and seemed to play it at every opportunity, but to me Monty Python would forever remain my idea of British.

It was a few more years before I could really appreciate the humor of Monty Python, and not just because watching the scene with Mr. Creosote would make my mom barf every time it was on.  When I finally got to a wider population of freaks and geeks in high-school, I was able to connect with fellow Anglophiles.  It was glorious.  Funny walks in-between classes were common.  As were impersonations of the Seargent Major during drill and ceremony for JROTC.  And in college, I discovered the joy of the entire Monty Python collection for checkout in the library.

I have slowly begun the process of indoctrinating my chidren into the joyously racous humour of Monty Python.  We built slowly upon Hitchhiker's Guide, moving gradually to Red Dwarf and then some of the later individual projects like Baron von Muchhausen and Mom and Dad Save the World.  I think they might be ready for Holy Grail, soon.  And after that... perhaps something completely different. 

Happy Birthday, Mr. Python.

Emptying the Bag of Holding

If you had told me two weeks ago that I would now be looking forward to a weekend of Amish-like existance—no cell phone(s), no netbook, no camera(s), no watch—I would have laughed at you. These are things I can't live without! You can't reasonably expect me to go five minutes without having the ability to check my email (all three accounts).... I don't have to actually check it, I just want to know I can check it if I want to.  And that was when I realized I may have a little problem with a gadget addiction.

Wednesday night brought more revelations.  Sitting at dinner, my friend Angie asks if she can get something out of my purse.  I hand her the purse, and that's when it starts.

"GOOD LORD! How much stuff do you have in the purse?"
"What?" I say, defensively, "Not a lot. It's not like it's my gadget bag."
"Oh?" She's looking at me in disbelief.  "Prove it."

I can feel that familiar tingling in my stomach; it's the same tingling I used to get when I lost something in my backpack in middle-school and I realized I would have to empty it out to find whatever I had lost: progress report, homework, lunch money...  the knowledge that my entire life would be out on my desk or table for the world to see—to judge—and I couldn't do anything about it.  What would they think about me having a (*gasp*) PLAIN Trapper Keeper?  Would the popular girls know what that D20 was for?  Why didn't my mom buy me THIS year's Lisa Frank pencil case--the one with the sharpener built in? 

"I don't have to." I said, defensively. "You're not my mom."
"No, but I am the person sponsoring you on your retreat, and I need to know what I'm up against."

I looked around the table.  Everyone seemed encouraging.  Was this an intervention? Did I really have that much stuff in my bag?  I turned to my husband... he smiled and nodded.  Sighing, I opened my purse, which is actually a field messenger bag, and began to catalog the contents on the table:

1. Dell 9 mini netbook, in bubble-gum pink with Hello Kitty, Cthulu and Puri Kura stickers covering the front
2. Flip Mino, in white/pink, with matching tripod
3. Pentax Optio Z10 camera
4. Classic 60 Gb iPod in a Sushiwrap with earbuds
5. iRiver H10 in LogicCase with folding earphones
6. bluetooth usb mouse for the netbook
   
7. Rumor cellphone (for personal use)
8. Blackjack cellphone (for work)
9. cosmetic case full of cables and connections for 1-8 as well as a back-up wired optical mouse in matching pink.
   
10. wallet
11. a small cosmetic case mostly filled with sharpies, but also with a tube of Rimmel lipgloss and Wet n' Wild eyeliner.
12. my moleskine notebook
    

A small group began to gather around the table as the tingling in the pit of my stomach became more intense.  They stared in amazement.  One of the men commentted dryly that it was if someone had unloaded batgirl's utility belt.  I fought the urge to quickly throw it all back in my purse, and looked at Angie expectantly.  She smiled gently.

"Well, it's not the worse I've seen," she said with a laugh, "but I think we're definately going to have to go through your bags before you go."
I laughed, "actually, it's normally worse. I gave my PSP to my husband because he got me a DSi for my birthday. So I don't have that or the cables for it in here."  I gestured to my now deflated purse.

A hushed laughter went around the table, and instead of cringing I felt strangely ok with it.  A couple of the women asked me about how to spec out a smiliar netbook for their purses.  One of the men asked me which of the cellphones I preferred (the rumor, for the slide out keyboard, but I just LOVE having 3g).  One of the teenage kids and I had a brief conversation about PSP vs. DSi and whether or not we were going to get a PSP Go. Angie and I discussed my multiple MP3 players, and why it was easier for me to have an iPod and an iRiver instead of an iPhone...  and ... and it was okay.

It's okay to be a gadget otaku now.  And yeah, while I might be a little ashamed at the amount of pink on my gadgets, I am also comforted in the knowledge that my male children will NEVER touch them or steal them.  And yes, the thought of living without my 20+ lbs of gadgets for a weekend is still a little frightening to me, but I think I'm going to be okay.  Really, I'm just thankful I didn't bring my REAL gadget bag in....

What if Turning Japanese isn't so bad?

I think I'm becoming addicted to Tokyo Flash.

At first it was just the watches, and it was fine.  It was fine because I had built up an immunity through years of Swatchs from the 1980's.  You think Wil was styling in his three watches?  I had FIVE.  FIVE swatch watches, and only ONE of them told the right time at any given time.  And there was no ankle wearing for me... no sir.  Three on one arm and two on the other

Incidentally, am I the only person here who thinks he might have had a thing for Batman? I'm not judging, I'm just a little overwhelmed at the amount of merchandise... it makes the comic-book geek in me swoon a little.

Anywho, Tokyo Flash beats out the swatch in two important areas: first (and foremost) it's Japanese, which makes it infinately better in my book.  Second, they're insanely difficult to read.  I mean, you have to dedicate a full fifth of your brain just to tell time if you buy some of these things.  And I LOVE that.  It's part of the coolness factor... just imagine it...

"excuse me miss, what time is it?"
[holds out hand with the "galaxy" on her wrist]
"um.... oh...."
"what's wrong? can't you see that it's 10:38?"
"ah, yes, of course, I can see that."
"really?"
"no."

and that alone is worth the price of a Tokyo Flash.  Not to say that I have one... yet... but this is one of the arguments I plan on using to get such a watch for Christmas, or maybe my birthday.

But now, now, Tokyo Flash has other stuff, too.  There's stuff like hats, and jewelry, and clothing, and... and it's getting harder and harder to keep that Visa (with iTunes bonus points!) in my wallet, let me tell you.   I'm particularly in love with the bags and the hats at the moment. I know I don't wear hats to work, but a Matsuri Flat Cap would be awesome.  All I need now is a convertable to wear it in!