cloudy with a chance of rain

This weekend felt like one long, restless nap.  The weather was shifty.  My mood was shifty.  The cats were not shifty.  Basically, I'm glad it's over, and I hope the sky decides to stop exploding.  

it might just move you

If you have a taste for self-improvement shows, then I urge you to go to you tube and search for "You Are What You Eat BBC."  Be warned, this show will go against your American sensibilities of social propriety and decency towards other human beings.  Within minutes you will hear the word "poo" more times than you've ever heard it on any of our major TV networks.  And you will like it.  At least I do.  

It's basically a weight loss show that is nutrition and exercise based (shocking, I know).  There is a finite time period (8 weeks), but there are no Biggest Loser boot camp style implausibilities when it comes to exercise and weight loss expectations.  The subject (or subjects) of every show are significantly overweight and, more importantly, engaging in self destructive life style habits.  At the end of the 8 weeks, you won't see a sunken faced marathon runner.  Instead, the participants are still well away from their healthiest weight*, but they are more aware, more informed, and armed with a battery of constructive new habits.  

Can you tell I'm trying to make it palatable to the skeptics?  

Yes, the host is a heinous bitch sometimes, and she says things that are horrific even after you've gotten used to her no-nonsense delivery.  Yes, the show appeals to the sensationalism of just how much these people overeat and how inactive they are.  Yes, the narration is ridiculous and heavy handed with the puns.  But you know what? It's effective.  Even if you consider yourself to be self-aware and health conscious, you will learn things from this show.  If nothing else, it will give you good ideas for recipes.  Just the other day we experimented by making a lentil pie with squash/chickpea crust because it was mentioned in the meal plan for one of the participants.  And it was damn good.  

So please, give this poo smelling, rude awakening, accent laden** show a chance.  

*the show discusses weight in units of "stones" -- 1 stone = 14 pounds (in case you, too, are a sucker for calculations)

** sometimes the cockney is so thick that we have to rewind it to figure out what the heck they're going on about.  

Drano required

I started the draft of this post with the words "blog: fail" which segued into one of those apologetic posts that I abhor where the author says their sorry for letting you live your life with one less web page clogging up your frontal lobe.  

Let's move on to a different kind of clog shall we.  

Namely my ears.  They are clogged with the chlorine saturated water of the Court St YMCA. I was under the impression that YMCA stood for Young Men's Christian Association.  Oh no.  I think it really stands for You May Catch sight of Ass (and I'm sure Ester will be back me up on this).  There is a constant stream of naked women ambling (and I mean ambling) through that locker room.  I know this makes me sound prudish and seems counterintuitive considering my experience with organized sports, but I find it jarring to open the door from the humid stairwell, tired and dazed from my swim, only to come face to cheek with a variety of wrinkles, tan lines, and states of verticality.  Didn't anyone's mother teach them not to bend over in front of people they're not biblically acquainted with?  (I know, I'm stretching it a little too far because anyone who knows me would scoff at my bad attempt at biblical humor.) 

The good news is that the only discomfort I've experienced thus far at the Y has been in the sea of nipples and discarded towels.  My foot is holding up extremely well.  No more clunky walking boot!  I've moved on to the custom orthotics recommended by my GQ podiatrist.  My walking speed still leaves something to be desired (especially when I'm trying to navigate the Naked Room).  If I were living in some other half awake city this would be no problem, but around here the pace of pedestrians is so breakneck that I feel like I have to constantly peer around to make sure I'm not clogging up the sidewalk.  (I'm rusty.  Let me have my words.)  I wish there was a way to let people know that while I have no visually evident impairment sans boot, I'm still not physically capable of sprinting through the subway stations.  Maybe if I walked around naked people would give me a wider berth.