Fancy Pants Jogger

Years ago I lived near Lake Harriet.  I used to love to walk around the lake, and sometimes I would say I even did it regularly.  Several times while walking around that lake I would see the same man, who was about 60 years old.  He was a memorable man, because of his running attire.  He was always wearing the same thing: brown loafers, brown dress pants, and a cream button down shirt.  By the second or third time of passing him (we were always going in opposite directions around the lake), his shirt would be wide open and his white undershirt would be hanging out.  It was as if he was on his way home from work and thought, "I should go for a run, but I'm in my work clothes...oh well."

The last few weeks, I've been exercising after work.  Sometimes the worst party of the exercising is changing clothes before and after.  It's just getting so difficult being so pregnant.  Yesterday, I actually thought to myself, "Maybe I could just work out in my dress clothes."

Then I remembered the man at Lake Harriet.  Suddenly it was as if his running in his fancy pants made sense.  I felt bad for thinking he was so strange. 

But no matter how big my belly gets, I will always change out of my fancy pants before I hit the gym.

Put it to music

Sometimes I wish someone would videotape scenes from my life, and then put them to music.  It would make many ordinary things much more interesting.  Maybe I'll just share some of my ideas, if there are any prospective takers out there:

1.  The video of me sitting in traffic this morning for 45 minutes could be accompanied by the theme from The Last of the Mohicans...the irony of that would have brought some humor to the situation.

2.  My last counseling session this afternoon with the client who talks nonstop would have had "Menomena" by the Muppets playing in the background.

3.  Driving down Grand Ave on Saturday during a blizzard could have been accompanied by "Walkin' in a Winter Wonderland"...even though we were driving, not walking.

Those are just a couple of my ideas. 

Just a question

How come none of the 12 disciples were women?  If Jesus was truly as counterculture as I hear He was, as as I claim He was, then wouldn't that have been the most revolutionary action?  Or, would it simply have been too radical - to the point that He would have been immediately dismissed?

I need a hermeneutical scholar... 

I must be missing something...

With motherhood looming over me, I have been doing a lot of reading and preparing.  Some of this reading is in actual printed books.  Unfortunately, much of this reading is on the ol' reliable internet.  What I am noticing more and more is that when mothers and fathers write, their signature suddenly becomes an identifier of parenthood.  For example, they'll simply sign "Addison's mommy" or "Carson's daddy" or whatnot.  They never sign their actual name.  They are now only known as someone's mom or dad...period.

Now, I see there being two reasons for this.  It could be to protect mommy or daddy's anonymity.  Maybe they don't want to put their own name at the bottom of their comment.  So instead they'll reveal the identity of their baby.  Or, maybe the reason is because once you have a child you don't even care about yourself anymore - everything is seen through the light of your baby.  You don't care about being known as "Sara" or "Matt"...you just want people to know you as being someone's mom or dad...maybe in the process of being that baby's parent, you even forget your first name.  This second reason is actually something that really scares me about motherhood; once I become someone's mother, will there even be a "me" left?

This is a curious phenomenon to me in the parental internet subculture.  But as with most things in life, I think that I just don't get it yet.  I can question it and judge it, but until my little boy is here, I don't think I'll understand it.  I have a hunch that most of these parents do not even care about themselves like they used to, so it is no strange thing to identify oneself in relationship to one's child.  Who knows...maybe I will be so consumed by the glory of my baby boy that I won't even care what my name is anymore.  And maybe it won't even feel like sacrifice or a loss of identity and purpose.  I'm actually hoping that my identity, moreover my self-centeredness, will go willingly and quietly.    

Foods I had forgotten about...

I've found myself having many strange cravings lately for foods I rarely ate in the last couple years...most of them are not nutritious, but so so good.  I'd like to share them with you because I have been enjoying them so much, you might like them too:

1.  Sprees (not the chewy kind)

2. Lemonheads

3.  Pickles (Vlassic dill only please)

4.  Squirt (the soda, ice cold please)

5.  Oranges (sliced, not peeled)