We trust that everyone has enjoyed celebrating Pi(e) Day, 3/14, in a manner that best expresses their particular interests, whether in seeing how far they can get in reciting the digits of pi, or in seeing how far they can get with a fork, a spoon, a large apple pie, and several scoops of ice cream.
It has come to my attention that while 3/14 is technically National Pi Day, there is an actual National Pie Day, on January 23. This makes it 1/23, which was probably a deliberate choice on the part of the pie people, having to do with the "1, 2, 3, go" often associated with pie contests. Or maybe all the other dates were taken.
Regardless, we see no reason why pie cannot feature prominently on both days. Pie is, after all, an object that could be described as round, and therefore the pi of pie can be quite easily computed. Not by me, of course, but quite easily by someone else.
The Hero, who happens to be a math person who also appreciates pie, has suggested that we eat only round foods on Pi(e) Day, such as pizza, quiche, cookies, donuts, etc. We did not do that this year, but I believe it is an excellent suggestion for next year, so long as it is understood that "round" foods does not include "healthy" round foods. That would be decidedly un-pie-like.
For those of you who did not get enough pie trivia in the previous post, we offer some additional true or false questions here.
1. America's favorite pie is apple, followed by pumpkin.
2. In the middle ages, when a young man wanted to ask for a young woman's hand in marriage, he would bring a pie to the young woman's father. If the proposal was acceptable, the father would turn the pointy end of a slice of pie toward the young man.
3. If the proposal was NOT acceptable, the father would turn the pointy end of a knife toward the young man.
4. Pie was banned in England by Oliver Cromwell, who deemed it "a pagan form of pleasure."
5. Stargazy pie is the most disgusting pie ever created.
Answers (possibly made up)
1. True. Running a close third, according to one source, is "anything chocolate."
2. False. But it's kind of a cool idea.
3. Probably not. But it's more believable than #2 for the times.
4. True. (The real reason his reign was kinda short.)
5. False. Incredibly, there is also Surprise Pie, supposedly favored by wealthy Englishpersons of yore, in which live creatures would pop out when the crust was cut. If this is what prompted Cromwell's ban on pie, it was obviously in the best interests of national security.
I leave this discussion of Pi(e) Day with a thought-provoking question. If the best part of the pie is the crust (and it is, according to a scientific survey of myself), why do we put all that other stuff in there anyway? Why not just have layers of buttery, flaky crust? And put the whipped cream or ice cream right on top of it?
Now THERE'S the type of story problem we all should have had in math class.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Happy Pi Day
In some circles (no pun intended) today, 3/14, is Pi Day, which celebrates the symbol for the ratio of a circle's circumference to its diameter. You might think that this day was established by math people, those who can rattle off pi to gazillions of decimal places (and know how much a gazillion is). In fact, Pi Day was started so that those of us who are NOT mathematically inclined can be transported, in thought, back to high school math class and relive our terror of higher math. (Quick! What's a periodic function?*)
*Something your brain engages in, especially as you get older.
But for those who are terrorized rather than thrilled by math, or who steadfastly refuse to engage in any math-related functions on moral grounds, pi is easily transformed into pi(e). 3/14, then, becomes: Pi(e) Day.
For such individuals, Pi(e) Day can be spent doing complex calculations, such as "If I completely forgo all other food for this 24-hour period, how much pie could I consume?" "If I pile several slices of pie on top of each other, does it count as just one slice?" "Who do I know who has given up pie for Lent, so that I can have their share, too?" etc.
In honor of Pi(e) Day, we have prepared some trivia questions. Okay, mainly they were prepared by someone else and we just appropriated them. We thought about including some pi trivia as well, but the level of questions we personally could ask would all involve answers like "round," "not round," "sort of round," "roundish," "under certain circumstances, yes, a Root Beer float could be considered round," etc. So we'll just stick with questions about the pie we can eat.
True or False
1. In the 19th century fruit pies were often eaten for breakfast, because they were "considered part of a hearty meal before a hard day's work."
2. I wish I had lived in the 19th century.
3. The crust of early pies was referred to as a coffyn.
4. People did not eat the coffyn part of the pie.
5. Once people started calling the coffyn crust, they began to eat it along with the filling of the pie.
6. Early pies contained meat, usually fowl, and the legs were left hanging off the sides to be used as handles.
7. More people prefer their pie plain, with no ice cream or whipped cream.
8. Pie consumed on Pi(e) Day has a negative amount of fat or calories, such that you actually lose weight when you eat it.
Answers
1. True.
2. Duh.
3. True.
4. Duh. Would you eat something called a coffyn?
5. True. Well, we just made that up.
6. Sadly, but apparently, true. This meal was evidently the forerunner of soft shell crabs, which are popular here in Maryland among those who are not disgusted by body parts hanging off their sandwich buns. It also was apparently the forerunner of the stargazy pie, which is too disgusting to describe here.
7. False. Most forgo the pie entirely and consume the whipped cream right out of the can.
8. We wish.
So, on this Pi(e) Day, load up your coffyn with some fowl legs and whipped cream, and dig in!
*Something your brain engages in, especially as you get older.
But for those who are terrorized rather than thrilled by math, or who steadfastly refuse to engage in any math-related functions on moral grounds, pi is easily transformed into pi(e). 3/14, then, becomes: Pi(e) Day.
For such individuals, Pi(e) Day can be spent doing complex calculations, such as "If I completely forgo all other food for this 24-hour period, how much pie could I consume?" "If I pile several slices of pie on top of each other, does it count as just one slice?" "Who do I know who has given up pie for Lent, so that I can have their share, too?" etc.
In honor of Pi(e) Day, we have prepared some trivia questions. Okay, mainly they were prepared by someone else and we just appropriated them. We thought about including some pi trivia as well, but the level of questions we personally could ask would all involve answers like "round," "not round," "sort of round," "roundish," "under certain circumstances, yes, a Root Beer float could be considered round," etc. So we'll just stick with questions about the pie we can eat.
True or False
1. In the 19th century fruit pies were often eaten for breakfast, because they were "considered part of a hearty meal before a hard day's work."
2. I wish I had lived in the 19th century.
3. The crust of early pies was referred to as a coffyn.
4. People did not eat the coffyn part of the pie.
5. Once people started calling the coffyn crust, they began to eat it along with the filling of the pie.
6. Early pies contained meat, usually fowl, and the legs were left hanging off the sides to be used as handles.
7. More people prefer their pie plain, with no ice cream or whipped cream.
8. Pie consumed on Pi(e) Day has a negative amount of fat or calories, such that you actually lose weight when you eat it.
Answers
1. True.
2. Duh.
3. True.
4. Duh. Would you eat something called a coffyn?
5. True. Well, we just made that up.
6. Sadly, but apparently, true. This meal was evidently the forerunner of soft shell crabs, which are popular here in Maryland among those who are not disgusted by body parts hanging off their sandwich buns. It also was apparently the forerunner of the stargazy pie, which is too disgusting to describe here.
7. False. Most forgo the pie entirely and consume the whipped cream right out of the can.
8. We wish.
So, on this Pi(e) Day, load up your coffyn with some fowl legs and whipped cream, and dig in!
Monday, March 12, 2012
The wind-up, the sales pitch
At the end of our last dance lesson last week, we were informed that someone from the studio would talk to us about possibly continuing our lessons. We suspected that "talking to us" would involve persuasive arguments about the stupidity of NOT continuing.
"They'll probably take us into that little room," the Hero said.
Earlier we had seen a couple in that little room, which was notable because unlike the other little rooms in the studio, it had furniture to sit on. It looked to be a very comfortable room, in fact, with leather chairs and a lovely wooden table and desk. We had watched as the couple came out of the room, hugging.
"They look like they've been to couples therapy," I said at the time.
So when Brandon, our instructor, told us that someone would be talking with us about our "options," we were not surprised to be ushered into the little room.
Now, the Hero comes from a long line of skilled negotiators, buyers, and sellers. There is no danger, for example, of any of his immediate relatives being forced into buying a time share. Were they to attend one of those high-pressure "We won't pressure you to buy anything" sessions, the salespersons would inevitably find themselves agreeing to purchase something from the relatives rather than the other way around.
I, in contrast, come from a long line of wimps who can't bear to disappoint other people. This sometimes results in our ending up with items that, without having been pressured into buying them, we would never even have considered. For example, my family returned from a trip to Greece many years ago with a large, expensive urn depicting numerous gods and goddesses, all aiming sharply pointed implements at each other threateningly. Everyone from the workers at the shop where it was made to the shop owner to the taxi driver who took us to the shop -- ignoring our strong protestations that we did not want to go -- insisted we buy the urn. My parents still have it, because, as my mother says, "I would feel bad getting rid of it."
Only in the matter of Girl Scout cookies does the Hero show a greater propensity to cave to sales pressure than I do.
I figured that with the Hero's heritage of not being easily strong-armed into purchasing things, we would be pretty safe from any attempts on the part of the dance studio person to talk us into additional, costly lessons. I thought it best to say as little as possible, and never "Yes." Because if it had been up to me, things might have gone very differently at our meeting in the little room:
Studio person: "So, we have a fantastic deal for you guys -- the 10-10 package, 10 private lessons and 10 group lessons, for only $5,473."
Me, nodding enthusiastically: "Sounds great! Where do we sign up?"
Hero: "Are you crazy??"
Studio person: "Okay, so maybe you're not quite ready for that kind of commitment. No problem! We also have the 6-6 package for just $3,286."
Me: "Oh, that sounds very reasonable."
Hero: "You ARE crazy."
Studio person: Ahh, I can tell that YOU are a couple who likes to make your own rules. So, for you, we have the put-together-your-own-package. You can come to as many or as few lessons as you like, and for each lesson you pay just the same amount as you pay every month toward your mortgage...."
Me: "Hmm, are you -- well, are you sure you're charging enough for that package? I really think you could get people to pay even -- hey, honey, why are you pushing me out the door?...Wha-- hey! Let me back in there! I just want to help him have a good day. You be nice to him, honey!"
Fortunately, when the studio person started drawing little arcs and incomprehensible marks on paper to illustrate how participants progressed from the routine newcomers' lessons to more demanding yet expressive ones, presumably in an effort to impress us and get us to say "YES! We want to be on the other end of that arc!" I cleverly pretended to really, really need a Kleenex that was somewhere in my purse.
In the end, of course, we said that we would sleep on the decision to continue, which the studio person correctly interpreted as "No, we are definitely not going to take further lessons, unless we get another Groupon in which you pay us to take them." He and the Hero even struck a deal whereby the studio would not call us to ask whether we had changed our minds.
And the other end of the deal? I'm not sure, but I think it had something to do with Girl Scout cookies...
"They'll probably take us into that little room," the Hero said.
Earlier we had seen a couple in that little room, which was notable because unlike the other little rooms in the studio, it had furniture to sit on. It looked to be a very comfortable room, in fact, with leather chairs and a lovely wooden table and desk. We had watched as the couple came out of the room, hugging.
"They look like they've been to couples therapy," I said at the time.
So when Brandon, our instructor, told us that someone would be talking with us about our "options," we were not surprised to be ushered into the little room.
Now, the Hero comes from a long line of skilled negotiators, buyers, and sellers. There is no danger, for example, of any of his immediate relatives being forced into buying a time share. Were they to attend one of those high-pressure "We won't pressure you to buy anything" sessions, the salespersons would inevitably find themselves agreeing to purchase something from the relatives rather than the other way around.
I, in contrast, come from a long line of wimps who can't bear to disappoint other people. This sometimes results in our ending up with items that, without having been pressured into buying them, we would never even have considered. For example, my family returned from a trip to Greece many years ago with a large, expensive urn depicting numerous gods and goddesses, all aiming sharply pointed implements at each other threateningly. Everyone from the workers at the shop where it was made to the shop owner to the taxi driver who took us to the shop -- ignoring our strong protestations that we did not want to go -- insisted we buy the urn. My parents still have it, because, as my mother says, "I would feel bad getting rid of it."
Only in the matter of Girl Scout cookies does the Hero show a greater propensity to cave to sales pressure than I do.
I figured that with the Hero's heritage of not being easily strong-armed into purchasing things, we would be pretty safe from any attempts on the part of the dance studio person to talk us into additional, costly lessons. I thought it best to say as little as possible, and never "Yes." Because if it had been up to me, things might have gone very differently at our meeting in the little room:
Studio person: "So, we have a fantastic deal for you guys -- the 10-10 package, 10 private lessons and 10 group lessons, for only $5,473."
Me, nodding enthusiastically: "Sounds great! Where do we sign up?"
Hero: "Are you crazy??"
Studio person: "Okay, so maybe you're not quite ready for that kind of commitment. No problem! We also have the 6-6 package for just $3,286."
Me: "Oh, that sounds very reasonable."
Hero: "You ARE crazy."
Studio person: Ahh, I can tell that YOU are a couple who likes to make your own rules. So, for you, we have the put-together-your-own-package. You can come to as many or as few lessons as you like, and for each lesson you pay just the same amount as you pay every month toward your mortgage...."
Me: "Hmm, are you -- well, are you sure you're charging enough for that package? I really think you could get people to pay even -- hey, honey, why are you pushing me out the door?...Wha-- hey! Let me back in there! I just want to help him have a good day. You be nice to him, honey!"
Fortunately, when the studio person started drawing little arcs and incomprehensible marks on paper to illustrate how participants progressed from the routine newcomers' lessons to more demanding yet expressive ones, presumably in an effort to impress us and get us to say "YES! We want to be on the other end of that arc!" I cleverly pretended to really, really need a Kleenex that was somewhere in my purse.
In the end, of course, we said that we would sleep on the decision to continue, which the studio person correctly interpreted as "No, we are definitely not going to take further lessons, unless we get another Groupon in which you pay us to take them." He and the Hero even struck a deal whereby the studio would not call us to ask whether we had changed our minds.
And the other end of the deal? I'm not sure, but I think it had something to do with Girl Scout cookies...
Thursday, March 8, 2012
The waning days of dance lessons
I am sure that those of you who read this blog regularly will be relieved to know that, as our dance lessons are coming to an end this week, so too will the posts about our dance experiences. But not quite yet.
Taking these dance lessons has been not unlike being in a pet show, or a 4-H show, although let me hasten to say that we have no personal experience being entrants in these shows. But as we are practicing our steps at the studio, our instructor, Brandon, peers intently at our feet, our hand position, and our body lines to the point that we begin to worry. Are we good enough? Is he going to criticize us for something? Does he notice how awesome our hair looks today? etc.
But then Brandon's cheerful face brightens, and he gives us his standard critique: "Awesome!"
We have the feeling that this would still be his reaction were we to begin tripping over each other, bumping into things, bumping into him, etc.
In light of our experience we feel somewhat qualified to offer advice to other beginning dancers. The best thing to do, short of actual talent, is to find other couples who dance even less well than you do, and hang around them. This will, with very little effort on your part, instantly make you feel quite accomplished.
Unfortunately we may be that couple for the others in our group. But we can proudly say that we have only trod upon each other's feet, which is generally discouraged, one time, and we believe no one witnessed this incident.
In the group lessons we are encouraged to dance with different partners from song to song. The Hero and I try to avoid this at all costs, for example, pretending to be deaf when these instructions are given. Somehow, the instructor and other dancers have figured out that we are NOT deaf. We therefore occasionally find ourselves obliged to dance with a stranger.
It can be a little awkward to be in such close proximity to a stranger. Therefore it is a good idea to have something to say to the person, such as "How are you enjoying the lessons?" "Why did you decide to take lessons?" "Do you always step on people's feet like that?"
Some people handle the awkwardness by ignoring altogether the fact that the other person is merely a few inches away from them. One of the male dance instructors has perfected this technique, carrying on extensive conversations about what type of dances you enjoy the most, whether you are having trouble with any steps, and what you like to do in your free time, all while looking off into the distance across your right shoulder.
You should probably not attempt to alter this behavior, for instance by moving your head around to try to force the person to make eye contact. This would violate the Polite Dance Partner Behavior Code, which allows for occasional trodding on feet but NOT attempted coercion to make eye contact.
Some couples have NO conversation whatsoever as they are dancing. As awkward as strained conversation can be between strangers -- the Hero reported that he and his dance partner spent an entire waltz discussing Groupons -- silence can be even more awkward. You feel as if you have entered an alternative time universe, similar to what happens when men wait for women to come out of a public restroom, or a fitting room.
To help us get the most out of our lessons, the Hero and I try to practice our steps at home. This presents a challenge, as our rooms are very tiny, and after two or three steps we find ourselves apologizing to the dishwasher and other immovable objects with which we have made contact. Someday, if we improve in this regard we may write a book on How to Dance in Four Square Feet of Space or Less. We'll be sure to get a back-of-the-book endorsement from Brandon, which no doubt will be: "Awesome!"
Taking these dance lessons has been not unlike being in a pet show, or a 4-H show, although let me hasten to say that we have no personal experience being entrants in these shows. But as we are practicing our steps at the studio, our instructor, Brandon, peers intently at our feet, our hand position, and our body lines to the point that we begin to worry. Are we good enough? Is he going to criticize us for something? Does he notice how awesome our hair looks today? etc.
But then Brandon's cheerful face brightens, and he gives us his standard critique: "Awesome!"
We have the feeling that this would still be his reaction were we to begin tripping over each other, bumping into things, bumping into him, etc.
In light of our experience we feel somewhat qualified to offer advice to other beginning dancers. The best thing to do, short of actual talent, is to find other couples who dance even less well than you do, and hang around them. This will, with very little effort on your part, instantly make you feel quite accomplished.
Unfortunately we may be that couple for the others in our group. But we can proudly say that we have only trod upon each other's feet, which is generally discouraged, one time, and we believe no one witnessed this incident.
In the group lessons we are encouraged to dance with different partners from song to song. The Hero and I try to avoid this at all costs, for example, pretending to be deaf when these instructions are given. Somehow, the instructor and other dancers have figured out that we are NOT deaf. We therefore occasionally find ourselves obliged to dance with a stranger.
It can be a little awkward to be in such close proximity to a stranger. Therefore it is a good idea to have something to say to the person, such as "How are you enjoying the lessons?" "Why did you decide to take lessons?" "Do you always step on people's feet like that?"
Some people handle the awkwardness by ignoring altogether the fact that the other person is merely a few inches away from them. One of the male dance instructors has perfected this technique, carrying on extensive conversations about what type of dances you enjoy the most, whether you are having trouble with any steps, and what you like to do in your free time, all while looking off into the distance across your right shoulder.
You should probably not attempt to alter this behavior, for instance by moving your head around to try to force the person to make eye contact. This would violate the Polite Dance Partner Behavior Code, which allows for occasional trodding on feet but NOT attempted coercion to make eye contact.
Some couples have NO conversation whatsoever as they are dancing. As awkward as strained conversation can be between strangers -- the Hero reported that he and his dance partner spent an entire waltz discussing Groupons -- silence can be even more awkward. You feel as if you have entered an alternative time universe, similar to what happens when men wait for women to come out of a public restroom, or a fitting room.
To help us get the most out of our lessons, the Hero and I try to practice our steps at home. This presents a challenge, as our rooms are very tiny, and after two or three steps we find ourselves apologizing to the dishwasher and other immovable objects with which we have made contact. Someday, if we improve in this regard we may write a book on How to Dance in Four Square Feet of Space or Less. We'll be sure to get a back-of-the-book endorsement from Brandon, which no doubt will be: "Awesome!"
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Ladies' Night Out
Today we feature the latest installment of Things Overheard at Ladies' Night Out, which the Princess attends whenever she needs some good blog material. Just kidding! Of course she goes mostly so she doesn't have to cook for one night.
Spouses and children feature prominently in many of the conversations on these evenings. Also dogs. Since the Princess has only one out of three of those, she does a lot of listening.
This time we contemplated the tendency of husbands to, while holding down very responsible, high-level important jobs like designing future space stations, exhibit a marked inability to find anything located in their own house without first consulting their wife: "Honey, where do we keep the mustard? How about the milk? Well, where do we keep Timmy's diapers? Uh, where do we keep Timmy? I mean, he's ours, right?"
I related what the Hero had once given as an explanation for such baffling behavior, soon after we were married: "When a guy gets married, all his brains just fly out of his head."
The ladies considered this, and then said that while they personally would have put it not quite so bluntly, this was essentially the case.
Much dismay was expressed at the tendency of fathers to play roughly with their children and to allow them to do things the mothers would never consider, such as letting them drive the family car while still, technically, a toddler. Of course I am just kidding. But one father, apparently ignoring the mother's advice that perhaps he should not allow their two-year-old to play with a Sharpie permanent marker in the father's office, did just that, and soon had a nicely autographed scribble on his wall.
Further ignoring her advice to research the best way to erase Sharpie marker from one's wall, the father put primer over the marks, which promptly bled through the layer of primer. And the next layer. And the next layer. Seven layers of primer later, Sharpies are strictly a controlled substance in the father's office.
Another father relishes the fact that the church ladies bring food to people who are sick, just had a baby, painted seven layers of primer on their walls, etc. When his fourth child was born, he wanted to know who had signed up to bring them dinner for the next couple of weeks.
"How about so-and-so?" he asked. "She makes great food. Is she signed up? Oh, this is great."
"Honey," his wife reminded him, "the baby...we're excited about the new BABY, remember?"
There was a lively discussion concerning dogs, specifically one named Ollie who is the center of sibling arguments daily. "Every time they walk Ollie, he gets away from them," the mother reported.
"How big is the dog?" someone asked.
"Uh, nine pounds."
Clearly, Ollie is having fun strutting what little stuff he has.
Ollie also has a charming habit, whenever the boys tell him it's time to go outside, of promptly performing an act right there in the house that immediately renders an outside visit quite unnecessary.
Let's hope Ollie doesn't get hold of any Sharpies.
Spouses and children feature prominently in many of the conversations on these evenings. Also dogs. Since the Princess has only one out of three of those, she does a lot of listening.
This time we contemplated the tendency of husbands to, while holding down very responsible, high-level important jobs like designing future space stations, exhibit a marked inability to find anything located in their own house without first consulting their wife: "Honey, where do we keep the mustard? How about the milk? Well, where do we keep Timmy's diapers? Uh, where do we keep Timmy? I mean, he's ours, right?"
I related what the Hero had once given as an explanation for such baffling behavior, soon after we were married: "When a guy gets married, all his brains just fly out of his head."
The ladies considered this, and then said that while they personally would have put it not quite so bluntly, this was essentially the case.
Much dismay was expressed at the tendency of fathers to play roughly with their children and to allow them to do things the mothers would never consider, such as letting them drive the family car while still, technically, a toddler. Of course I am just kidding. But one father, apparently ignoring the mother's advice that perhaps he should not allow their two-year-old to play with a Sharpie permanent marker in the father's office, did just that, and soon had a nicely autographed scribble on his wall.
Further ignoring her advice to research the best way to erase Sharpie marker from one's wall, the father put primer over the marks, which promptly bled through the layer of primer. And the next layer. And the next layer. Seven layers of primer later, Sharpies are strictly a controlled substance in the father's office.
Another father relishes the fact that the church ladies bring food to people who are sick, just had a baby, painted seven layers of primer on their walls, etc. When his fourth child was born, he wanted to know who had signed up to bring them dinner for the next couple of weeks.
"How about so-and-so?" he asked. "She makes great food. Is she signed up? Oh, this is great."
"Honey," his wife reminded him, "the baby...we're excited about the new BABY, remember?"
There was a lively discussion concerning dogs, specifically one named Ollie who is the center of sibling arguments daily. "Every time they walk Ollie, he gets away from them," the mother reported.
"How big is the dog?" someone asked.
"Uh, nine pounds."
Clearly, Ollie is having fun strutting what little stuff he has.
Ollie also has a charming habit, whenever the boys tell him it's time to go outside, of promptly performing an act right there in the house that immediately renders an outside visit quite unnecessary.
Let's hope Ollie doesn't get hold of any Sharpies.
Monday, March 5, 2012
Elephants and ice cream sundaes
"Bad news," the Hero said. "We're not lifting enough elephants at the gym."
He was looking at the latest report from our local Y, where we have been faithfully working out once a week for, oh, at LEAST the last two weeks.
The report tells us, among other important things, how much weight we have lifted in terms of elephants. Usually this is in the neighborhood of .04, .1 elephants -- equivalent to maybe a tooth. However, WE have apparently been slacking in the weight-lifting department, logging only .02 elephant.
As dismaying as this news was, I was more concerned about the fact that, according to the report, we have earned 0.0 ice cream sundaes. Of course it takes a great deal of effort to earn a fraction of a sundae, but SURELY I have at least earned a cherry by now. Maybe just the cherry stem. But SOMETHING.
The report is also useful for keeping track of how long you have used the cardio machines, such as the stationary bike and the treadmill. ("The treadmill was in operation for 30 minutes and 24 seconds. However, no motion was detected on it. User is suspected of stepping off and letting it run while she napped on the floor mat next to it.")
It would be helpful if there were some sort of image to help us visualize how far we'd run or biked, like the elephants for how much weight you lift. It would be exhilarating to know, for example, that "You ran from the White House in Washington, DC, to George's Mount Vernon estate," although if this showed up on MY report, it would NOT be exhilarating because it would indicate that I had been grossly confused with someone else. My report would be more like "You ran from The Bakery Shoppe at 143 22nd St. to Nora's Ice Cream Store at 145 22nd St. (and we suspect that you walked part of the way)."
The report also notes your Lifetime Fitness Points. My Lifetime Fitness Points are somewhere in the neighborhood of 113. I have no idea what this means, but to reach the First Level of Fitness probably requires around 14,897 points. I have been secretly inquiring into whether one can buy extra fitness points, but have thus far been unable to obtain any information on this. Perhaps some sort of barter system could be worked out, where I could get someone else's points in exchange for, well, I don't know what. This is probably why the barter system is not too popular at the Y.
If neither of these strategies is successful, I might have to resort to turning on a bunch of treadmills at the same time, when the gym is not too crowded. I will log in with my code number on all of them and hope that the system will not notice there is nobody on them. It will cut into my napping-on-the-mat time, but sometimes you gotta make sacrifices.
I suppose I COULD just exercise more...wait, is that an elephant I hear laughing?
He was looking at the latest report from our local Y, where we have been faithfully working out once a week for, oh, at LEAST the last two weeks.
The report tells us, among other important things, how much weight we have lifted in terms of elephants. Usually this is in the neighborhood of .04, .1 elephants -- equivalent to maybe a tooth. However, WE have apparently been slacking in the weight-lifting department, logging only .02 elephant.
As dismaying as this news was, I was more concerned about the fact that, according to the report, we have earned 0.0 ice cream sundaes. Of course it takes a great deal of effort to earn a fraction of a sundae, but SURELY I have at least earned a cherry by now. Maybe just the cherry stem. But SOMETHING.
The report is also useful for keeping track of how long you have used the cardio machines, such as the stationary bike and the treadmill. ("The treadmill was in operation for 30 minutes and 24 seconds. However, no motion was detected on it. User is suspected of stepping off and letting it run while she napped on the floor mat next to it.")
It would be helpful if there were some sort of image to help us visualize how far we'd run or biked, like the elephants for how much weight you lift. It would be exhilarating to know, for example, that "You ran from the White House in Washington, DC, to George's Mount Vernon estate," although if this showed up on MY report, it would NOT be exhilarating because it would indicate that I had been grossly confused with someone else. My report would be more like "You ran from The Bakery Shoppe at 143 22nd St. to Nora's Ice Cream Store at 145 22nd St. (and we suspect that you walked part of the way)."
The report also notes your Lifetime Fitness Points. My Lifetime Fitness Points are somewhere in the neighborhood of 113. I have no idea what this means, but to reach the First Level of Fitness probably requires around 14,897 points. I have been secretly inquiring into whether one can buy extra fitness points, but have thus far been unable to obtain any information on this. Perhaps some sort of barter system could be worked out, where I could get someone else's points in exchange for, well, I don't know what. This is probably why the barter system is not too popular at the Y.
If neither of these strategies is successful, I might have to resort to turning on a bunch of treadmills at the same time, when the gym is not too crowded. I will log in with my code number on all of them and hope that the system will not notice there is nobody on them. It will cut into my napping-on-the-mat time, but sometimes you gotta make sacrifices.
I suppose I COULD just exercise more...wait, is that an elephant I hear laughing?
Thursday, March 1, 2012
STOMP, 2, 3 4, STOMP, 2, 3, 4
In our second group dance lesson, the Hero and I fared better than during the first group lesson. This was measured by the fewer number of times various instructors swooped in to separate us and show us what we were doing wrong. Alternatively, the fact that they interrupted us less could be taken as a measure of their belief that we were beyond help, but we choose to remain positive.
After our lesson, the Hero began to wax poetic about the waltz, which we had practiced to part of "Edelweiss." "I think of the 1, 2, 3 count as a rise," he said. "I try to rise with it and then gradually fall. It's very elegant. At least," he said, deflating somewhat from his rise, "in my MIND I'm elegant. Probably to anyone else I look like a piston: UP, down, UP, down..."
During the lesson, instructor Brandon talked about up and down movement too, in the context of bouncing during the single swing dance. "Don't bounce UP," he cautioned, as this would make our legs hurt after a while and we would definitely look like pistons. He advised us instead to bounce down, sort of crouching a bit. This would allow us to express our interpretation of the music in a non-piston-like manner.
It is also, I found, a good way to make your lower back hurt. But -- and this is an important point -- at least I did not look like a piston while hurting myself.
So doing piston moves is not really our specialty. What we personally are best at is The Stomp. This is our own version of the fast swing dances, which for most dancers consist of a marching step side to side and a "rock step" back to front. Most dancers enjoy these because the music is fun and, more important, they know how to DO the dances. Whereas to us, the swing dances are such a bewildering blur of movement that we must boil them down to one type of step: the stomp.
As long as we can hear the beat -- which is not usually a problem in songs like these -- we can do a firm, confident, and above all loud STOMP on each beat. We are not too particular about whether we are stomping from side to side or back to front at the same time, although Emily, another instructor, seems to place great importance on this. We don't hold it against her.
The Stomp is an adult variation on the Toddler Stomp, which is a dance well known to teachers of very young children. The Toddler Stomp is performed by a simple rocking back and forth from one foot to the other and is usually performed leadenly, with the toddler's feet showing extreme reluctance to be separated from the floor.
Of course our Stomp is a much more sophisticated version. Occasionally, just to show off our flexibility and growing skill, we'll swing our arms around at the same time as we are stomping, although not necessarily in a coordinated manner. And sometimes we might even rotate and move about the floor as we are dancing, though I admit this is most likely to occur accidentally.
Our next lesson will include just Brandon and us. Alone, without all the other dancers to distract him from our technique, we may not be able to fool him. But he is very positive, and I have no doubt that after we are through with our lessons, he'll be able to tell the other instructors, truthfully, that we are two of the very best stompers he's ever seen.
After our lesson, the Hero began to wax poetic about the waltz, which we had practiced to part of "Edelweiss." "I think of the 1, 2, 3 count as a rise," he said. "I try to rise with it and then gradually fall. It's very elegant. At least," he said, deflating somewhat from his rise, "in my MIND I'm elegant. Probably to anyone else I look like a piston: UP, down, UP, down..."
During the lesson, instructor Brandon talked about up and down movement too, in the context of bouncing during the single swing dance. "Don't bounce UP," he cautioned, as this would make our legs hurt after a while and we would definitely look like pistons. He advised us instead to bounce down, sort of crouching a bit. This would allow us to express our interpretation of the music in a non-piston-like manner.
It is also, I found, a good way to make your lower back hurt. But -- and this is an important point -- at least I did not look like a piston while hurting myself.
So doing piston moves is not really our specialty. What we personally are best at is The Stomp. This is our own version of the fast swing dances, which for most dancers consist of a marching step side to side and a "rock step" back to front. Most dancers enjoy these because the music is fun and, more important, they know how to DO the dances. Whereas to us, the swing dances are such a bewildering blur of movement that we must boil them down to one type of step: the stomp.
As long as we can hear the beat -- which is not usually a problem in songs like these -- we can do a firm, confident, and above all loud STOMP on each beat. We are not too particular about whether we are stomping from side to side or back to front at the same time, although Emily, another instructor, seems to place great importance on this. We don't hold it against her.
The Stomp is an adult variation on the Toddler Stomp, which is a dance well known to teachers of very young children. The Toddler Stomp is performed by a simple rocking back and forth from one foot to the other and is usually performed leadenly, with the toddler's feet showing extreme reluctance to be separated from the floor.
Of course our Stomp is a much more sophisticated version. Occasionally, just to show off our flexibility and growing skill, we'll swing our arms around at the same time as we are stomping, although not necessarily in a coordinated manner. And sometimes we might even rotate and move about the floor as we are dancing, though I admit this is most likely to occur accidentally.
Our next lesson will include just Brandon and us. Alone, without all the other dancers to distract him from our technique, we may not be able to fool him. But he is very positive, and I have no doubt that after we are through with our lessons, he'll be able to tell the other instructors, truthfully, that we are two of the very best stompers he's ever seen.