I'm really cheating here, because this a copy of a comment I posted on my brother's blog, but I have to give mad props to this restaurant:

Oh my God. We ate at the most evil, horrible restaurant Saturday night! I took my husband and brother-in-law out for their birthdays, and we went downtown to Texas de Brazil, a Brazilian grill house right next to the famous Peabody Hotel. This is the most unbelievable place. It is a set-price restaurant, and there are no menus. You pay about $40 per person (I think it was about $43). There is a huge salad bar in the middle of the restaurant with 40+ items on it, from sushi to artichoke hearts to black beans and rice to pasta to the biggest wheel of cheese I've ever seen. After you've gorged on the salad bar (which was awesome but I should have just skipped altogether), you take a deep breath and flip over a little red circular piece of plastic next to your plate, to the green side. Within moments an army of "gauchos" armed with skewers of all different sorts of meat and wickedly sharp knives show up at your table. They just wander around the room until someone flips over their little card, and then they pounce. They offer you their skewer, and if it has something on it you want to try, they just slice off a hunk and drop it onto your plate, or if it is something smaller they can just slide it off the end of the skewer. Filet mignon, leg of lamb, barbecued pork ribs, grilled chicken, shrimp, flank steak, parmesan pork tenderloin, Brazilian sausage, lamb shank, it just goes on and on. You take what you want, flip your card back to red to stop the insanity, and start eating. (They also put garlic mashed potatoes, fried polenta, and fried carmelized bananas at the table to cleanse your palate between the different cuts of meat.) When your plate is clear, you can flip your card back over and it all starts again. My God. And the hostess had the indecency to ask if we wanted dessert. Actually, both of the guys got dessert (it was free since it was their birthdays) and brought it home. My brother-in-law managed to eat his turtle cheesecake the same night (must be great to have a 19-year-old metabolism), and my husband consumed his carrot cake last night. It was fantastic. And best of all, despite my fear that this would be a diet-train wreck, I didn't gain any weight! Oh yes, the night after we ate I was several pounds heavier than before dinner, but that was actually food weight. Last night (after a day of kayaking, i must add--great exercise!) I was half a pound lighter than I was prior to dinner Saturday night. Whoo hoo!

After traveling this weekend for family purposes, I was struck by my husband's and my musical choices for driving. As we listened to the same CDs over and over, it occured to me that there are certain albums that I automatically associate with driving. There are albums that I use for long trips, albums I use for quick runs to the store, and albums I can listen to wherever, whenever, repeatedly. I do listen to a lot of comedy albums when driving for long hours, because the talking seems to help keep me awake. But musically, the best long trip albums are

*Songs You Know By Heart-Jimmy Buffet
*Greatest Hits Vol. I and II-The Eagles (I know these are two separate albums, but I think of them as one single album)
*Road Rage-Great Big Sea
*Hybrid Theory-Linkin Park
*Gordon-Barenaked Ladies
*Reunion-The Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem
*Recollection-Concrete Blonde
*The Essential Johnny Cash-Johnny Cash
*Greatest Hits-Journey
*Black Album-Metallica
*Best Shots-Pat Benatar
*Primer-Rockapella

Frustrated.

I need to vent a little, more for myself than for the benefit of interesting reading. I'm in my sixth month of my attempted weight loss, and the past six weeks or so have been a total stand-still. I need to organize my thoughts and make public what my problems are so that I can better deal with them.

Since about February or so I have seriously lost motivation as far as working out. Originally, in November and December, and even January, I was doing pretty well with my workouts. I was working out every morning, either swimming or cruising on the elliptical machine at the gym. Most days I also made time for a second workout, again either swimming, doing some other form of cardio, or lifting weights. But my schedule changed at the end of February. Instead of staying at work until the late afternoon and then heading to the pool to swim before practice (I was still in the midst of swim season at the time), my lacrosse practices were scheduled right after school, meaning I could go home in the evening. I used my downtime during swim season wisely, getting my grading done so I didn't have anything to take home with me. I felt less guilty then, and was able to fit my second workout in without any problems. But since my schedule changed, I lost the time right after school to grade (and I'm notoriously bad about using my free periods during school for constructive purposes), so I always have work to take home with me. That makes me feel guilty because I don't have the time to spend with my husband. So instead of heading to the gym after lacrosse practice, I'm tempted to skip the gym and head home so I can grade some papers before my husband arrives. The other afternoon problem is that my husband and I don't really LIKE working out, and we're kind of enablers for each other. If one of us calls the other one before we get to the gym, we can usually talk each other out of working out, and then we just go home (or worse, go out to eat).

This problem with my afternoon workouts has been compounded by a morning workout problem in the past few weeks. The time change killed me. Under the best of circumstances I was getting up at 4, walking the dog, and then going to the gym from 5-6 a.m. But since the time change, I haven't been to the gym ONCE in the mornings. Every time that alarm goes off, I just roll over, turn it off, and turn on my secondary alarm. I've been able to justify it: you know, the time change makes it feel like I'm getting up at 3, so I'll just give it a week and then I'll be used to it; I've had a really bad cold the past two weeks and I just can't shake it; I haven't been sleeping well because I'm fighting a pillow problem that gives me headaches, so when it goes away I'll go to the gym again. Needless to say, I've justified myself right into a serious workout drought.

The workout problems alone are enough to cause my plateau in weight loss. But my eating habits are a problem, too. Since we started this weight loss program, I've been bringing my food to school. I eat those Healthy Choice soups for lunch, and I keep 100 calorie snacks around, like those little gummy fruit snacks, or yogurt, or sugar-free pudding, or granola bars, or those mini microwave popcorn bags, or raisins, or applesauce; I was doing pretty well at consuming about 700 calories before dinner. So I could have another bowl of soup, or actually pick something up on the way to swim practice, and be around 1200 calories for the day, which was helping my weight loss. But recently, since I've started lacrosse, instead of eating something small and low calorie for dinner on my way to the gym, I've been going out for dinner (we like to cook, but we're super-lazy, and the restaurant cooks stuff for you, isn't that nice?) or cooking at home. And a big problem I have is PORTION CONTROL. I have a binge-eating personality (which has caused me problems in the past); I'm not good at self-control with food. If there is an open bag of Oreos, I won't just eat one or two; I'll eat nine or ten, and I could easily eat the whole bag if left to my own devices. At restaurants, I eat whatever I order. I don't bother to box it up and take it home, or just leave the leftovers on the plate; I'll eat everything I'm given. At home I have the same problem. We always make more food than we need to eat in one sitting, but instead of packing it up in tupperware and loading it in the refrigerator, my husband and I will split whatever it is into two portions, and he'll eat one and I'll eat the other. This means a bag of frozen ravioli that is supposed to serve six will only serve two. So the ravioli that seemed healthy enough at 270 calories per serving suddenly becomes terribly at 810 calories. And that doesn't count the jar of spaghetti sauce we poured over them.

And my eating at work has started to suffer too. Instead of controlling myself and eating my snacks about every two hours, I'm "binging" and eating several items at once. I'll have a granola bar, and suddenly I find myself reaching for a box of raisins, and then a little bag of fruit snacks. Instead of a 100 calorie snack, I've just consumed 245 calories. If I do that every time I snack, I end up consuming over 1000 calories at work, and then of course I do what I've been doing for dinner, which puts me above my recommended intake for the day. Combine that with the not working out, and you've got what made me a fat cow in the first place.

So I am needing to refocus and remotivate myself. I can do this! I need to start working out twice a day, regardless of what that does to my free time at home. I need to get caught up on my grading and stay that way, and use my planning periods at work better, so I don't need to bring stuff home with me to eat up what little time I've got left. I need to stop my destructive eating habits before they get out of control again.

But knowing that I need to do those things and actually DOING them is the real problem. And I guess that's where I need to start. What is it about my personality that is causing me to do these things? How can I change that? I will start small: today I will try to control my eating. It is 8:10, and I've had 200 calories (yogurt in the car at 6:45, a granola bar here at work at 7:15). I will schedule one more small snack at 8:50 (I'll eat right before my next class), and then nothing until lunch at 11:15. Then I will wait until 1:30 and have another small snack, one at the end of the day before my faculty meeting, and one on the way to the gym this afternoon (no lacrosse on Wednesdays because of faculty meetings). That will give me about 800 calories. I will work out this afternoon, and I will eat a Healthy Choice meal at home, plus perhaps a yogurt for dessert. That will put me at about 1200 calories for the day, which is what is recommended for me in order to lose weight.

As for working out, I will hit the gym this afternoon. Tomorrow I have a half-day at school (gotta love working at a Catholic school during Holy Week!) so I can spend all afternoon at the gym if I want. Friday we have no school at all, so I can make several trips to the gym. When we go visit family for the Easter weekend, I need to make sure I take running clothes with me, since I won't have a gym available. I'll need to be extra careful about food, since we'll have Easter candy around, and my sister-in-law will be making garlic mashed potatoes just for me. Get thee behind me, Satan! But I can do this. I have to.

What is up with all these teachers who are sleeping with their students?

All of these women say the same thing: "He's so mature. He's more of a man than any man I've ever met. Even though he's only 13/14/15, we're in love, and I know he'll wait for me."

OK, a couple of things. I've met middle school AND high school boys. I was friends with them when I was in middle and high school, I've coached them, I've taught them, and I can tell you: NO MIDDLE OR HIGH SCHOOL BOY IS THAT MATURE. It just doesn't happen. They are interested in skateboarding and roadkill and Jackass: The Movie and calling breasts "boobs". (Note: Yes, I know there are plenty of adult males who are interested in those things, and I am not interested in those males, either.) What grown woman in her right mind would find that mature? (Note: Yes, I know, the whole point is that these women aren't in their right minds.)

If these boys are "more of a man than any man I've ever met", where the hell are these women hanging out? Other than the playground? These women desperately need to fill out an E-Harmony profile and find someone to date who is more appropriate. Really.

And as for the "he'll wait for me (until I get out of prison)", of course he'll wait for you; you were willing to have sex with him even though he was a total idiot kid. What boy wouldn't be impressed with that? Of course, as soon as the boy actually DOES grow up and mature, he'll realize that there is something seriously wrong with you for being willing to sleep with a kid, and he'll dump you for someone normal. (Note: Except for the little freak Mary Kay Letourneau slept with. And there is something not right about him anyway. Perhaps they ARE soul mates.)

What ever happened to the world where men were men, women were women, and minors who should be off-limits were minors who were off-limits?

Constantly debating the usefulness of single-sex schooling.

Having taught eighth grade at a co-ed public school, I can see the benefits of single-sex. The boys were totally distracted because the girls mature faster (mentally and physically), so the girls were all gorgeous and dressing (what I considered) inappropriately for school. Consequently the boys did what eighth grade boys do best: act like complete idiots competing for attention from girls who were totally not interested (they were interested in the high school boys, because middle school boys are like so totally immature, you know?). At a single-sex private school that requires uniforms, you don't deal with those distractions on a regular basis. The girls have no boys to impress, so they rarely worry about hair and makeup and things like that (we're lucky they shower once or twice each week). They roll out of bed, into their uniforms, put their hair up in some form of ponytail/bun/rat's nest and call it done. In class they aren't afraid of sounding too smart in front of the boys, or too dumb, or whatever, because there are no boys. It can be a really great thing.

The problem with a single-sex environment is, the girls go CRAZY when a boy is introduced into the mix in any way. Once, we had a student step in front of a MOVING BUS to try to see a boy across the street. If she hadn't been yanked back by a teacher, she'd have been a smear on the concrete. They lose whatever intelligence they have as soon as they see a boy. I can't open the mini blinds on my classroom windows because my room overlooks the area where the lower and middle schools have their recess, and the girls will actually look at and squeal about the eighth grade boys (whom they wouldn't have touched with a ten-foot pole when they were actually IN eighth grade, because middle school boys are like totally immature, you know?). It hurts my head. We had some boys from a local (single-sex private) school come as an a capella group to perform for us. Poor kids. The girls couldn't keep quiet. They kept giggling and pointing and whispering to each other. Imagine how those boys felt. Standing on a stage in front of 400 people is intimidating. Standing on a stage in front of your peers is equally so. Standing in front of all those girls, about to do something as uncool as "singing" must have been nightmarish. The girls didn't seem to understand that, since the boys were singing without music, the girls should keep quiet so they boys can hear themselves and each other. They did really well in spite of all that, but I couldn't help feeling sorry for them.

I think the lack of boys is one reason the girls do such stupid things when they are with the boys, like being promiscuous and stuff like that. They think they need to pack as much co-edness into their lives as possible when they get the chance.

So I can't decide which is better, a co-ed environment or a single-sex one. From a strictly educational standpoint, the same sex environment is great, because it is purely academic. But from a social development standpoint, it seems like more frequent CONTROLLED contact with boys might improve their uncontrolled contact with boys at other times. I don't know. Maybe I'm just old and cranky.

Mr. Annoying (my dog) struck first blood in the war against "momma driving daddy away" last night.

As posted earlier, the dog dislikes changes in the status quo, and is irked at my husband's four-day business trip. The dog's theory seems to be that, since he is inconvenienced, "momma" will be too, since it is "momma's" fault "daddy" is gone (we left together but only I came back, so clearly I had something to do with the disappearance. It was like this when the rabbit, Bump, passed away--he left the house with me going to the vet for them to handle his body, but only I came back, and the dog hasn't fully trusted me since).

I tried to go to bed at 9:30. Sounds early, but my time as a night-owl has long since passed, and I get up at 4 each morning to walk the dog and go to the gym. So the dog came into the bedroom, and I put down treats on the floor and turned off the light, the usual bedtime routine. (Many of you are wondering, why no crate? Because the dog is evil and screams like a banshee--look up the breed details of the Shiba Inu if you want proof.) Maerlyn was wondering why I would go to bed without "daddy" and proved his displeasure by wandering around the room, randomly scratching at the door, the side of the bed, and the blankets in his closet. (Yes, my dog spends a lot of time in the closet; no, there is no suggestion there.) When I would "shush" him, he would crawl under the bed and whine, those annoying, high-pitched, through-the-nose whines that some dogs have developed a skill for.

It took about an hour and a half for the dog to settle down and for me to go to sleep. Then, I woke up for an unknown reason at about 2 and couldn't go back to sleep (could have been any kind of noise, from mice, to dog flatulence, to trucks downshifting on the highway) for about an hour. When the alarm went off at 4, I mumbled "screw it", turned off the primary alarm and activated the secondary, allowing me another hour and a half of sleep time. This meant I did not have time to go work out before work.

I was punished for my laziness and lack of sleep by a massive traffic jam caused by a three-car accident in a construction zone. We slowed to a crawl, and it took over thirty minutes to travel two miles from one exit to the next, and by the time we got about to the second exit, the tow trucks pulled away and the cars around me accelerated. Yippee. I got to work half an hour later than I am comfortable with (thankfully I get to work half an hour early each day, so technically I was right on time). All morning I have felt rushed and frantic. I guess I'm a little OCD when it comes to my schedule--I don't like deviations. Just like the dog. I guess he gets it from me.

Damnit, this is all my fault, isn't it?

Why do we love our pets so much?

Sometimes I must ask myself this question. Not that I DON'T love my pet, far from it. But there are times when you question your sanity with regards to your pet, and this is one of those times.

The dog is driving me crazy. My husband has gone out of town for four days, and the dog is clearly blaming me for this problem. He hates any variation in his day-to-day schedule. We need to get up at approximately the same time every day, leave for at least part of the day (I'm assuming this is when the dog gets his rest), come home at the same time, and go to bed at the same time. Variations on this theme are not tolerated.

The problem began this morning as my husband began packing. When the suitcase comes out, the dog gets upset. Suitcases mean bad things. We don't take suitcases to the park or the skating rink, which means it may be a trip he's not going on, or (almost as bad) it may be a long trip in the car. Not that he hates trips, but he hates being trapped in the car for that long. Anyway, the dog began following us from room to room, but he dodged out of the way every time one of us reached to pet him. He was pissed.

Packing continued to annoy him. By the time my husband finished, the dog had planted himself at the front door, attempting to block our passage. He sat with his back to us, showing his dislike for the situation. It was to no avail. We brushed him aside, shoved him away from the door (an open door is frequently an escape and subsequent chase around the neighborhood), and left him sulking in the living room as we went off to the airport.

I came back by myself, and so the dog was left with no other option but to blame me for the lack of "Daddy" in the house. He's been walking aimlessly from room to room ever since I got home, yipping forlornly. You'd think with behavior like this that he is normally lovey-dovey and can't stay away from us when we're home, but he's actually very standoffish, much like a Siamese cat. He wants to know where you are, but he doesn't want to be "with" you. It's the fact that his normal routine has been disrupted that is irritating him, and so he's going to take it out on me. I anticipate the behavior will escalate as the evening wears on, and when bedtime comes and there is still no "Daddy", he's likely to be restless all night so I don't expect much sleep. I won't sleep well anyway since my husband isn't here.

Why do we put up with pet behavior? Why can't I just have a fish instead? Why did God make animals so darned cute that we keep them around? I don't know. Stay tuned for four nights of annoying dogness...

Much like the garden gnome that inspired Travelocity's "Roaming Gnome", and the Snoopy doll that is photographed all over the world, and that sock puppet from the children's story, I own the fabled Joe Bender (kayaker--www.joebender.com), otherwise referred to by my students as "Rastaman". This bender doll has become the unofficial mascot of the senior class at the school where I teach.


He was first kidnapped two weeks into the school year. The seniors, in retribution for another prank pulled by another grade the year before which framed them for the crime, borrowed my little kayaker toy and photographed him taped to a wall-sized map. Each day I would receive an e-mail with an updated location for the little guy. He was ultimately returned to me, but the game was on.


He then traveled to Kentucky with the seniors when they went on their class retreat.


After that, he went to Washington D.C. as a pro-life marcher in the March for Life.


Most recently, he journeyed out of the country, to France, where he visited several famous locations.


His trip culminated with a daring rubber-band bungee jump off the Eiffel Tower.

Goodness knows where he will go next. Does it seem fair that my toy is better traveled than I am?

I said I'd post a picture of me running Powell Falls on the Locust Fork. It was pretty intense. It doesn't look very big in the picture (and I thought the camera was supposed to add ten pounds--who knew it took off several feet of height?) but it was really intimidating. It was super loud, and going over the top of the drop was pretty scary. But it was fun!

My poor dog. We wore his little hiney out. We decided to get out in the sunshine (which won't last; it's supposed to start raining later and keep raining for several days) and go rollerblade around the lake at the park. Maerlyn loves the lake; he goes and splashes around at the edge of the lake. He doesn't swim; he just plays in the shallows. But he hasn't been out much for physical exercise this winter, and we made him do two laps around the lake, which equals a little over three miles. Poor little guy. He was really excited during the first lap, really tired during the second. He slept the whole way home, only checking things out when we stopped at Wendy's to pick up food. Now he's sleeping. Cute puppy.

Spring Break! Whoo hoo!

You know you've gotten older when the best thing about spring break is the fact that you can sleep in. No partying, no staying out late, no hanging out with friends because most of them aren't on the same schedule as you (this is what I get for hanging out with non-teachers). Just sleeping in. Man, I'm old.

I don't even get to sleep in that much. I'm trying to help motivate my husband to work out in the mornings by getting up with him to swim at the gym. That means I still get to sleep in a little (5:15 a.m. instead of 4:00 a.m.). Yay.

Still sitting in the afterglow of one of my best river trips. We did the Locust Fork of the Warrior River in Alabama over the weekend. I ran a real waterfall! As soon as I get pictures/video, I'll try to post some of it. It was a good day, and went a long way to boosting my confidence.

Ah, spring break. No papers to grade, no assignments to read. This is why I'm a teacher (to heck with the "molding minds" nobility)...

First, Kirby Puckett RIP. Kirby, one of those great non-athletic looking baseball players, like John Kruk and my beloved Tony Gwynn, who could pound the living snot out of the ball. Kirby, pudgy and jovial, with a happy smile that let everyone know he loved the game. Kirby, after whom I named by egg-baby in health my freshman year of high school, because it was a brown chicken egg and it reminded me of him. He will be remembered, and missed.

Now, on to other things. Namely, gym apparel. It fascinates me to look at all the different fashion statements being made at the gym. Many people dress as I do, in baggy shorts or track pants and oversized cotton t-shirts, designed for free movement and fat camouflage. No one can tell where my rolls are if I wear baggy t-shirts. I've just recently downsized--for years now I've bought XL t-shirts so I have drawers full of them, but the past few shirts I've ordered have been larges instead. I've lost 35 pounds, sort of stuck on a plateau right now, but hopefully it will continue.

Then there are the athletic types. These are people in shape who choose to flaunt it. The women wear the close fitting bra-in athletic sports tops, the tanktop kind which show off their artificially tanned shoulders. They wear spandex shorts so short that my mother would scold me for wearing them. Previously I had only seen these spandex shorts on volleyball players in games (we called them "bungees" in high school for some obscure reason); apparently they are vogue now. The men wear jogging shorts, the short-short kind with the little upside-down v-shaped vent on the sides. They also wear expensive Nike or Under Armor "dry fit" shirts that wick the sweat away from your body instead of getting soggy (which is what MY t-shirt does).

There are the seriously bulky weightlifters, who wear cut-away tank-tops that look like what Hulk Hogan always chose to rip from his body before a wrestling event, and Zubaz, those terrible baggy pants, somewhat MC Hammer-ish, whose wearing is only justifiable at the gym or a professional sporting event (Troll and Hoff come to mind with their Chargers' Zubaz). I would laugh at these people, except they could break me in half.

And there are the freaks. These are the people who just dress, well, weird. For the gym, anyway. The people who get on the treadmill still wearing their work clothes in the afternoon, or wearing them early in the morning before embarking for the day. Some of them bother to change their shoes at least; others do not. There are women in power suits and sneakers, men in khakis and button-downs with loafers, punk kids in flannel and denim with Birkenstocks. There's the infamous sorority girl I witnessed (the one who fell off the treadmill) who was in a miniskirt.

I'm always curious why people choose to wear what they wear. I bet if I were to look at their CD players or mp3 players, I could get some insight into their minds. [For example, the last five songs I heard on my mp3 player this morning were "The King of Bedside Manor" by Barenaked Ladies, "I'm the Man" by Anthrax, "I Need a Hero" by Frou Frou, "Video Killed the Radio Star" by The Presidents of the United States of America, and "The Other Side" by Aerosmith. What does this say about me? I don't know.]

I'M ALIVE! And coming back from research paper hell...

Sorry for the long delay between posts, but I had 86 9th grade research papers to grade, and they were *UGLY*. More F's than I've ever had, combined, the last three years of teaching. Nightmarish. Usually it takes me about 20 minutes per paper to grade; this time it took over an hour per paper. Hence the serious delay in posting.

That combined with the hectic end of my swim season made for no spare time. The research papers are done, the swim season is over, and now all I've got left is to grade regular assignments (which have been piling up during this research paper onslaught) and to coach lacrosse. Whew.

In the meantime, life continues as usual. We've been overrun by rodents in our house as spring approacheth. At first it was just a token rustling/chewing sound from inside the walls, something we've dealt with off and on the whole time we've lived in this particular house. But things got steadily worse. More noise, little nibbles taken out of items around the house, mouse poopies in corners and on various surfaces, stuff like that. So we escalated our efforts, placing those sticky-traps in various locations around the house (I can't load real traps--inevitably I snap my fingers in them--and they are unpleasant to remove when the occupant has assumed room temperature).

Well, I heard thunking from under the sink, and opened the cabinet door to find A RAT with his butt stuck to the trap. He was unhappy about his apparent fate, and I was unwilling to extricate an unfriendly occupant who still had fight left in him, so I left him thumping around under the sink for the night. The next morning, rat and trap were gone. I suspect he fell through the hole around the pipes in his attempts to free himself, and is probably going funky under the house. Eew.

A day later, more thumping under the sink revealed several mice (when they fell out as the door was opened). So we escalated again. We loaded the cabinets with DeCon. The little buggers have eaten through two full boxes of poison and are working on a third. I haven't heard much more in the way of noise in the house, so I assume we've sufficiently culled the herd.

The dog is no help. We have to wire the cabinets shut to keep him from getting into the DeCon. And he's no help at all with the rodents. They've literally walked right past the dog on the way to his food bowl, and he just waves them through. Twit.

Anyway, nothing much has happened in my reality the past few weeks, since I've just been grading. But Spring Break starts next Friday, so maybe life will get more exciting...

More on MySpace...

All of the local schools have had to handle the MySpace issue. One school has banned any reference to the school under penalty of suspension; another, explusion. All the schools have hosted parent meetings regarding their teens' use of MySpace, Facebook, and other such hosting sites, as well as some local parties hosted by a event company (one of those companies that handles the arrangements for reunions, receptions, conventions, and pajama parties for 1500 drunken teenagers). Hopefully most of the parents have realized that it is truly their jobs to monitor their children's behavior on and off the Internet. The parents who haven't realized this, never will. Those are the children that I worry about the most, because their parents don't worry enough. The girls are both more worldly-wise than I ever was at that age, and more naive than I ever could have been. And their parents are more naive than the kids, assuming that their children can be allowed all the freedoms in the world in the hopes that they will make the right choices. I think parents need to stop letting their children make all the decisions. Parents don't let their kids make the easy decisions, like eating their vegetables or not, but they allow their children to make the hard decisions, like to drink or not to drink. How have the priorities gotten so screwed up?

MySpace.com--evil or just misunderstood?

There has been a huge uproar recently about the web hosting place known as MySpace.com. This site has been featured on several national news programs and NPR. Schools are blocking and banning it. Newspapers are warning parents to visit their children's sites to monitor content. And parents are freaking out.

First, a little bit about MySpace. It is essentially a web hosting source. People can register with MySpace and get their very own webpages. They can then post their blogs (much like here) and pictures, but there is much more to it than that. Everyone fills out a profile, like here, and creates lists of their friends and contacts and links to their sites. People can chat, surf the pages, and do searches to find others with similar interests to their own. It is functionally an online social community.

From my own limited experience with MySpace (my students use it and love it), I have noticed several pros and cons about the pages.

PROS
1) MySpace provides an easy way to maintain a community of friends who cannot otherwise have daily contact with each other. An example of this would be the girls at my school. Since this is a same-sex, private school, all the girls have lots of friends who do not attend school here. Many of them attended school together when they were younger, or they live in the same neighborhoods. Also, the girls have male friends (either "boyfriends" or just guys they hang out with) whom they obviously do not see during their day-to-day routine. These girls come to school in the mornings, stay all day, participate in extracurricular afterschool activities or sports, and then go home only to eat dinner, do their homework, and go to bed to start all over the next day. Rather than trying to get this large and diverse group, kids from school and kids from elsewhere, together in a single location like a mall, bowling alley, or movie theatre, the girls can maintain their circle of friends and contact many of them at the same time.

2) MySpace, just like the Internet in general, expands people's horizons by giving them access to people in different parts of the country, different cultures, and different backgrounds at the literal click of a computer mouse. The minimum age requirement for MySpace is fourteen, so everyone from teenagers to computer literate Golden Agers can stay in touch with friends from anywhere and everywhere. Where else can you debate the validation of the humor in Monty Python and the Holy Grail with someone in Moose Jaw, Canada, at three in the morning without leaving the house?

3) It is easy to use. People can constantly alter, refresh, and update their music, pictures, and contact information. You can easily find people who list similar likes, dislikes, and hobbies as yourself. The sites can be creative and fun to view.

4) MySpace gives people an easy and safe place to "meet". Here in the big city, teens should not be out in many parts of town after dark. Since they don't get home from school and other activities until then, and since many of the old-fashioned and traditional "hang outs" for teens no longer exist, MySpace gives the kids a theoretical hang out in the safety of their own homes.

CONS
1) MySpace is not really "my space". People do not seem to remember or understand that the Internet is a PUBLIC PLACE. Anything put on a MySpace page can be found by Googling, Stumbling, and a variety of other search methods. The information on a MySpace page is essentially as public as messages put in the newspaper, hung on public restroom walls, and taped to bus stop signs. Putting a photo of yourself in a skimpy bikini on your MySpace page is just like putting on that bikini and standing in the middle of a crowded mall; chances are good that someone other than your immediate friends will see you. Teenagers get really offended when their parents view the teens' MySpace pages, but hey, it's just like renting space on a billboard next to the (information) superhighway and getting mad because your parents drove by. It's PUBLIC, and whether you want to believe it or not, lots of people other than your friends make up PUBLIC.

2) MySpace takes things that used to be contained within small social groups and makes them very widely known. If you've ever seen what some teenagers post on their MySpace pages, you know what I mean. The MySpace page has become an evolved version of the notes that used to get passed around at school. So-and-so is mad at somebody because of something she did, did not do, should have done, or said. So she posts a nasty comment on her MySpace page about that somebody, just like passing that note in class. But now, that nasty comment is viewed by a much wider audience than just those few people privy to the note at school. People at other schools, in other towns, all over the place now know what that somebody did to so-and-so. That somebody now has a major problem; her reputation has been destroyed, not just at her school but all over the place, because so-and-so posted that comment in a public place. This is a thousand times worse than the "For a good time call..." message in that gas station restroom. Posting comments about people in such a public forum can lead to slander and libel, and ultimately lawsuits. Parents can now prove that so-and-so is bullying their little somebody because they can pull up the website, print it off, and BAM, there's your proof.

3) MySpace cannot create a "real" community. On the Internet, people do not have to be themselves. They can make up their own identities, not necessarily for nefarious purposes, but because they do not like themselves the way they are. Think about it. When a teenager goes in real life to meet friends at the mall, everyone can see if that teenager doesn't dress cool, is chunky, or has zits. In person that person must be himself or herself because there is nothing to hide behind. On the Internet, people can carefully control what perceptions others may have. You only put the pictures up of yourself that make you look skinny, or where you had the zits airbrushed out, or where you looked "just right". You can tell others than you are five-eight, 120 lbs, with blue eyes and blonde hair even if you are five-two, 145 lbs, with plain ol' brown eyes and mousy hair. While not everyone creates this alter ego for evil, some do. A 45-year-old man can claim to be a hunky 18-year-old guy and chat with teenaged girls in the privacy of his own home. Many girls feel "safer" being overly forward with someone over the Internet, so perhaps they flirt more than necessary, reveal too much personal information, and before they know it they have a twisted stalker waiting to snatch them off the street someday.

I'm not saying MySpace is the devil and that no one should be on it. Just like the Internet in general and many other things, like cars, medications, and alcohol, MySpace is something good and useful that can easily be misused, especially by younger people. Parents MUST supervise their children on the Internet and on MySpace. That's just it, right there. Parents don't let their kids drive without training and licensing, they don't let kids medicate themselves, they don't let their kids drink (or at least they SHOULDN'T). They should not let their kids use the Internet without knowing where the kids are going and what they are viewing. Parents should regularly view their kids' websites, especially any personal sites the kids post information on. Many parents feel guilty about doing this, like they are reading their child's diary that was stuffed under his or her mattress. PARENTS SHOULD NOT FEEL THIS WAY! The child is putting this information in a public place. If complete strangers have the right to view this information, the parents have the right as well. If kids get indignant about it, tough. They need to find a river, build a bridge, and get over it. If they don't want their parents to know that information, they shouldn't post it in public, should they?

In memory of the astronauts of Apollo 1, Challenger, and Columbia, and all those who have lost their lives in the name of exploration...

Tomorrow is the anniversary of one of those days when you remember exactly where you were when it happened. I was in sixth grade on January 28, 1986, in my science class. We had a TV wheeled into our classroom, and we were watching the launch of the Challenger. Because the launch had been delayed several hours that morning, we in California would actually get to watch it live.

So we spent the whole week before talking about space travel and stars and things of that nature. My teacher had actually applied for the Teacher in Space program, so she was very interested in the launch.

And then we sat, and watched. We saw footage taped from earlier that morning as the crew walked out and boarded the shuttle. We listened to them talk about what the Challenger's mission was, and what science projects they had on board. And we sat in stunned silence, staring at the puff of white smoke with the two trails leading away, as the unthinkable occurred.

The only sound that broke the silence was my teacher, crying. A few minutes later the principal made an announcement to the entire school, telling everyone what had happened.

I'm sure there were a lot of kids who didn't really care one way or the other about the accident. But to anyone who was interested in the shuttle flight, astronauts, space, or explorers, it was a horrible lesson in the consequences of mistakes and stubbornness. It was also one of the first times that kids my age learned that not all heroes have happy endings.

Seventeen years later, my husband woke me up on a Saturday morning to tell me that "something had gone wrong" with the Columbia shuttle as it entered the atmosphere for its landing after a successful week-long mission. I got out of bed, turned on CNN, and spent the next few hours glued to the television. Even though NASA had not yet conclusively determined what had happened to the shuttle, it was very clear as I watched the multiple trails of smoke traveling across the video of the southern sky that the shuttle had been lost. I called my parents in California, woke them out of their morning sleep to tell them the news, and cried.

I rejoiced in August 2005 when Discovery safely returned to earth, successfully returning us to manned space flight. But our shuttles are old, and the safety rate (when you consider the number of manned flights vs. the number of accidents) isn't great. So there will always be a fear, and a prayer for the safety of the astronauts, and thankfulness for their safe return, every time a shuttle goes up.

This week is full of these memorials, for the Apollo 1 accident (Jan. 27), the Challenger disaster (Jan. 28), and the Columbia disaster (Feb. 1). I offer my continued thanks to everyone who is brave enough to become an astronaut, prayers for their safety, and this poem by John Gillespie Magee, Jr., called "High Flight" (President Reagan quoted from this poem after the Challenger disaster):

Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sunsplit clouds, and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of; wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence, hov'ring there
I've chased the shouting wind along and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air
Up, up the long, delirious burning blue
I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, nor even eagle flew
And while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
The high, untrespassed sanctity of space
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

God speed.

Great roll practice last night.

In our Memphis Whitewater community we've actually got several opportunities for pool practices. There is a class that teaches new paddlers to roll at one pool, and then there's a pool practice for those who can already roll. But newbies and experienced paddlers are really welcome at either location. For a place with little to no whitewater in the area, we've got a strong paddling group.

Anyway, this was only my second time in a boat since October, and the first time I've tried to roll. When we went out on the Loosahatchie a few weeks ago, I felt wobbly and unstable (basically like I had lost 20 pounds and hadn't been in my boat for two months), so I didn't roll. Last night, I felt I had to. I'm down 25 pounds now (yay me!) so I was still apprehensive when I first slid into the pool, but after paddling around for a few minutes, I got down to it. My husband said it was the most rolls and the best rolls he's ever seen me do. I didn't miss a single one, or even come close to not making them. It went a long way to boosting my confidence. Now I need to start practicing rolling without being set up first; I need to flip myself over with my paddle in unusual positions, since that seems to be when I flip over on the river. I never seem to be conveniently set up when I flip. *hmm* I also need to get out on an easy river, probably the Loosa again or the Spring (after all, it isn't redneck season on the Spring yet), and just find a good spot in current to roll again and again.

I've hit a couple of combat rolls before, but I seem to have a mental block on them now. Now, when I flip, I'm either so pissed at myself for screwing up that I just bail and pop my skirt, or I overthink my roll. You know, "OK, I'm upside-down. Dang. Guess I need to set up. Are my hands high enough out of the water? OK, now I need to rotate my wrists. OK, now I need to sweep." Meanwhile, I've drifted into a heavier part of the rapid, and thus I miss my roll when I try, so I bail anyway. I need to get to the point where the roll is so second-nature that I don't even think about it. My husband says he has to consciously make himself wait on his roll until his boat has settled, because his roll was so second-nature he'd start trying to roll before he was completely flipped over, so he'd miss his first attempt. Now he waits (not long; no reason to brain yourself on a rock), and his rolls are almost always successful first attempts.

I just get so frustrated when I flip over, because I feel like a failure. I know everyone flips, and I know "everyone is just between swims," but it still makes me feel like I've messed up somehow. I just need to get that out of my head.

Nice to spend some quality time in my boat, in a nice warm pool, with people who enjoy the same hobby we do. Good way to spend the evening...even if I did get to bed late because of it (damn my 4 a.m. wake-up time!).

The gym where I work out is very entertaining.

I finally witnessed one of those "America's Funniest Videos" moments at the gym the other day. Someone actually fell off the treadmill. It was one of the Ole Miss sorority girl types I've mentioned before. For some reason peculiar to her type, she was working out in a t-shirt, athletic shoes, and a denim miniskirt. I don't know if this is a new gym fashion trend or if she just forgot her shorts, but that alone was pretty funny. She started the treadmill, so it was running at around 4 miles per hour, but she had her feet on either side of the moving part so she could stretch. Another entertaining part was that she really couldn't reach her feet on either side of the treadmill very well because her skirt was so tight. So she stood on one foot, ostensibly so she could pull her other foot up behind her to stretch, but she lost her balance. Her foot came down on the moving treadmill and shot off behind her, spinning her around. She managed to keep her balance enough to not fall down, but she spun around the little rail on the one side of the treadmill and tipped off the side, knocking over a big oscillating fan that was standing next to the treadmill. It was hilarious. She was so embarrassed that she left the treadmill running, went and got a drink of water at the water fountain, and then picked out another treadmill at the other end of the room. I don't think she was blaming the treadmill; I think she was moving away from those of us who had been working out around her, since we were all snickering about the whole thing. There's a reason I don't run on the treadmill; I have a fear of doing exactly the same thing. Not the skirt part, but the falling off part. I don't run in a straight line, and I'm afraid I'll put a foot down too far to one side, and zippppp...

Then yesterday, my husband witnessed another interesting event at the gym. A fight broke out. Not on the basketball court or in the racquetball court, or anywhere you'd think there would be competition. No, it broke out on the track! There were a number of people jogging around the track. No one really noticed what started the fight, but everyone looked up to see a middle-aged gentleman, graying, possible mid-forties, and a much bigger, much younger guy, probably mid-twenties, duking it out in the middle of the track. Their shirts were torn, they had lacerations on their faces and were bleeding everywhere, and they didn't break it up until a few other gym patrons and the trainers got up there and separated them. Who knows what started it? It's possible that they knew each other outside the gym, and had some personal or family grudge to settle. But I'd like to think it was simple competition that drove them to it. One guy probably ran faster than the other guy. Maybe some comments were exchanged as they circled the track, things like "Hey, move out of the way pops, make way for the faster guy" or "Whoa, gettin' lapped by the old guy, huh?" Anyway, it's lucky they were on the track and not on the main floor where they could have heaved weights at each other. Or in the pool where one could have held the other one down until the bubbles stopped coming up. Eek. I know there's a lot of testosterone at the gym, but really.

Had a lovely Martin Luther King, Jr./Robert E. Lee holiday yesterday...

Yeah, that's right, you read it correctly. In at least Mississippi and Arkansas, the January holiday actually was first designated for Robert E. Lee, everyone's favorite Confederate. When the government created MLK Day, the South just tacked it onto the holiday they already had.

DOES ANYONE SMELL THE IRONY!?

It seems a bit bizarre to have a holiday jointly assigned to a Confederate general whose goal was obviously everything that King was trying to change. I bet somebody's rolling over in a grave about now.

At least in Tennessee they don't count the Lee holiday anymore. I think they are trying to atone for being the state that King was assassinated in. Gotta love Memphis. King died there, Elvis died there, but Jerry Lee Lewis is still around...

I'm just so tired of all the Confederate hype in this part of the country. Where else do people spend so much time fussing about the fact that they lost? (other than maybe France) I actually saw a bumper sticker that read, "Union 1, Conferedates 0, HALFTIME." Dude, if you are that in love with the Confederacy, why don't you move there? Oh wait, that's because they LOST! So why don't you just find a river, build a bridge, and GET OVER IT. I saw a bumper sticker for sale in Memphis that had the Confederate flag in a circle with a line through it, and it said, "You lost. Get over it." I'd buy it and put it on my car except someone would slash my tires.

They actually sell bumper stickers that read, "I ride with Forrest." Meaning Nathan Bedford Forrest, the guy who founded the KKK. Who are these idiots, and why are there so many of them? Are they like cockroaches and they breed quickly or something? I mean, good grief. Maybe we need to start loading those reenacters' guns with real bullets. You know, thin the population a little bit...jk.

Anyway, I have a dream too, just like King did. Only mine is that all these racist idiots will stop putting stupid bumper stickers on their cars and start educating themselves in the real world.

By golly, I was wrong.

Chicago simply did not play good enough football to hold off Carolina. I guess a really good defense can only do so much. Chicago just didn't have enough offense. So next week it's Carolina at Seattle (bet it'll rain) and Pittsburgh at Denver. Should be interesting. I still stand by my final prediction: Seattle vs. Denver.

Now I'm in the middle of watching 24. This is one of the greatest shows ever. Nothing like a cliffhanger every single episode. The only downside is you just can't miss an episode, or come in in the middle of the show. You've gotta see every minute. And Keifer Sutherland is just awesome. He just said one of the best lines of the show: "The only reason you are still conscious is because I don't want to carry you." This show is so cool...