12 more days of being 49

This becomes clearer to me every time I step on the elliptical at the gym and have to enter my weight and age. Both numbers are going up, regardless of attempts at intervention on my part. I guess I could lie and enter numbers I like better, but I was raised Lutheran. We don't do that. "This is most certainly true."

So yeah. Reality. The reality is that I'm not nearly as bothered by getting older as I am by the latest crime by the Waldo rapist. When I saw the crime tape and the detectives in a nearby front yard last Monday, I felt like I was going to throw up. Strange how tragedy becomes more real when it strikes closer to where you live.

I can't stop thinking about that poor woman. Or the one before her. Or the one before her.

Or the two before her.

My friend Suzanne and I were talking about how we wake up in the middle of a nightmare where we hear his footsteps, open our eyes, and he's right there. Even when I wake up knowing I'm OK, I wonder where he is and worry for other women. Everyone is constantly on edge, some to the point irrational fear. He has created a reign of terror.

And I feel for the African-American guy I read about in the paper yesterday who lives on the same block as one of the victims. Though he's nowhere close to fitting the composite sketch--he's been questioned twice. That sickens me too. The lingering looks and unfair judgments innocent men are getting. All because of one man.

So yeah. I'm turning 50. But it's really no big deal. Being afraid to go home, jumping at every car door slam, worrying about your sister, your friends, all the women who live near you? That's a big deal.

Be safe, Everyone. I'm sorry this post isn't funny. Maybe next time.

Only two weeks and four days left . . .

. . . . until I'm fifty. How did that happen? I had all these lofty plans, OK, well, one achievable goal I wanted to reach before the big day. Back when I made it in January, March 11 seemed a lot farther (or is it further?) away. That will now be my goal--to relearn the difference between those two words. I can accomplish that without getting up at 5:15 to go to Spin class, without dieting, without committing to anything long-term, heck, without even getting up out of this chair, I can become reacquainted with something I used to know.

But I don't want to. Why?

I'm lazy. And I've reached a new low if opening another window on the screen seems like too much work.

There, I said it. Albeit shamefully, I admitted it--I'm lazy. In a world that values a body in motion, staying in motion, creating, producing, achieving, making "x's" on check-lists, I'm lazy

which is unacceptable for someone of German heritage. Auch der lieber!

But am I lazy or am I simply tired? Whichever it is, will I be more of "it" the older I get? Or is it just a phase, like adolescent acne and worrying about whether the person you like in 5th hour Spanish class "LIKES you" likes you or just "likes you?"

I don't know. Help me out.

P.S. *FARTHER denotes physical advancement in distance. FURTHER denotes advancement to greater degree, as in time. But I'm too lazy to go back and fix that.

I love Maud Newton . . .here is a blog tease for her

I Love Maud Newton!

How to begin a luxurious Saturday Morning.

First of all, quit waking up to nightmares that your colleague Allyson C. starts yelling at you in a meeting for wearing acid washed jeans. Unsettling. Especially, when you wake up, relieved it's just a dream, and then go back to sleep to the very same disturbing dream. You don't even own any acid washed jeans, how could this be happening?

Wake up for real and decide to stay up rather than return to the humiliating yell-y dream. After that, realize that even though you woke up in time, you don't HAVE to go to the 7:30 spin class. So what if the teacher's good. She saves all the yelling she should be aiming at her kids for your class. "Come on, push yourself. Work hard. That's what you're here for. Don't coast through. I should see each of you struggling to get through class. There should be pain on all of your faces."

Screw dat. I get enough of that at work.

Anyway, back to you and your lovely Saturday morning. Relish the idea that you're probably the only one awake in the 'hood. Feel superior about it.

While you're at it, have another cup of Einstein Brothers' Vanilla Nut coffee.

Then, make a batch of Duncan Hines Family Style Brownies. All you need is one egg, 1/4 vegetable oil and two tablespoons of water. Who doesn't have that lying around?

While the brownies bake, read the article about bereavement in the New Yorker. Then laugh at the Barsotti cartoon about the Jack-in-the-Box to kind of balance things out.

Take the brownies out of the oven. Let them cool just long enough. Cut one out, and then think "Who am I kidding?" so cut another one. (Who eats just one brownie? We hate them.) Then do this unbelievably fattening trick I learned from Daddio--put a pat of butter on top. Eat as much as you can until you're just shy of making yourself nauseous.

Realize no matter what happens, that this day started out pretty damn good.

Even if you had to read a blog entry written in second person and you find that contrivance annoying.

Four Weeks from Today, I'll be 50

And that's enough about that.

But here's something exciting--tonight, Dick and I are going to our first "PechaKucha" in Kansas City. I KNOW! How fun will that be? Who knows, but I have high hopes. How can something with such a catchy name be anything but fun.

Here's what I do know about PechaKucha--it means chit-chat in Japanese. It was invented in Tokyo in 2003 as a way for young designers to meet, network and show their work to others

by showing twenty images in twenty seconds. The format is a way to keep presentations concise and interesting.

Concise and interesting presentations . . . hmmm. Ahhh, a girl can dream, can't she?

Anyhoo, you can read more about PechaKucha here at this website. You'll have to copy and put it in your browser window because I still don't know how to make it "clickable." I'm old. So sue me. This is the best I can do. http://www.pecha-kucha.org/.

And you'd know how to pronounce it correctly, if I could have imported this video but, you can guess how well that went. Screw dat. So go to the following site where Sesame Street characters will show you how to pronounce "PechaKucha." http://www.flickr.com/photos/mcmikedermott/2406106770/.

If you're interested, it starts at 7:30 at 1522 McGee and includes a presentation by a roller derby girl. I KNOW! And it's FREE! So come on, join the fun. Show up and look for us--we'll be the old, befuddled couple trying to look like we're never in our p.j.'s by 7:30 and we do cool stuff all the time.

P.S. If anyone can tell me how to shove a video in here, I will buy you a cup of coffee.

Maria, this means you.