p.s. The movers just came by with the beautiful bauhaus. The chaise came first, and I was almost in tears seeing it in my living room. They scurried downstairs to fetch the couch before I completely broke down and forgot to tip them. A few minutes later, a knock at the door. It was a three-foot high skeleton holding a plastic pumpkin. I jumped at least two feet in the air, and the costumed kid was reduced to giggles. As were the janitor, the kid's dad, and my two movers behind him. It's Halloween, and I'd forgotten for the moment, that I'd volunteered to hand out candy. After he stopped laughing, and while I was shoveling two handfuls of candy into his trick-or-treat stash to cover up my embarassment, he said, "Hey, your place smells good!" I was trying a new roasted pumpkin soup recipe and my whole apartment smelled of pumpkin, bacon and onion. A warm, fall smell. What kid is going to be distracted from free chocolate by a savory smell? I tell you, that seven-year-old kid's going to be some gourmand when he grows up.

The currency conversion that happens in poker is fascinating. The actual value of a US dollar increases significantly when tied to a black chip. A single dollar becomes 100 pennies buoyed by a big dose of bravado and bullshit. It would seem that bullshit carries infinitely more value in poker than it does in real life. At the table, a bluffer is respected and awed. "I can't believe you won that with a seven high." Players who folded cluck and shake their heads in disbelief. Yet you take this same talent in the boardroom, "We expect to beat expectations by 82% in the third quarter," and executives snicker and dismiss such blatant claims. There's just no bluffing a corporate competitor.

At the table, everything seems exponentially funnier. It must have something to do with equality and social space. Everyone starts off on equal footing. Identical antes, identical buy-ins, and the same number of cards each. The dealer rotates from one player to the next. It's the great equalizer. Your ability to win does not depend on how big you are or who you know, but on what cards get dealt. Players are seated close enough to trade witty reparte, but far enough apart to prevent chip snaking.

One of the players seated at our table, Michael, kept winning hands with a dependable pair of queens. Oh, how he loved his queens. This of course led to much jeering, jiving, and even the creation of a new game in his name. In the poker variation dubbed 'Michael', "Queens are wild and there ain't no straights." Hobie had us on the floor with that one.

Other, more familiar games were Screw Your Neighbor, Little Kings, Night Baseball, Iron Cross and the ever dependable five and seven card stud. By the end of the night, my shuffle had deteriorated and my eyes were blurry, even though I only had three beers over the course of five hours. It was sheer poker exhaustion. And through all the laughs and curses, I managed to come out six bucks ahead. Not bad for a novice.

The one weird thing about sushi that I still can't figure out is the sushi grass. It is so ubiquitous, in fact, I think it's going to be the next pop culture icon. I knew someone who knew someone who wallpapered his corporate cube in sushi grass. What an excellent idea.

Ten pounds. It's really frightening, but for good reason. Once in my life, my 5'5" body topped 171 lbs. It never really mattered to me, I was secure in myself back then. I was confident in my abilities and pretty much okay with how I looked. I never had issues attracting men, so the extra weight never bothered me too much. It wasn't until my parents said, at Christmas breakfast, "You can't lose that weight, you're too old."

At that point, it became a challenge. I joined Weight Watchers and started training for the AIDSRide. I dropped 30 pounds in seven months. It changed my life. I felt healthier, fit into jeans two sizes smaller than before, and was not embarassed squeezing my body parts into lycra gym wear.

The catch is, I'm more insecure. There is guilt associated with eating that was never there before. I constantly check nutrition labels and watch caloric, fat and fiber intake. I try to run 10 miles a week and hit the gym on an almost daily basis. And I feel guilty and fat if I don't. It's sad, the change in my attitude and self confidence.

Also, being ten pounds heavier than my normal weight is somewhat traumatizing because it seems like a gateway to my heavier self. But awareness is good, and at least I know that once I acknowledge and dedicate myself to losing weight, I can. So it's back to journaling everything that goes into my body. Back to counting points and treating my body as though it were a task to be completed.

Weight: 150.6 lbs
Body Fat: 25.6%

I don't get how this is any different than a stupified video game with no objective. You pop in a cartridge, something appears on the monitor, you click around and the environment responds to your actions. It would seem to me that if we are to consider the DVD as "art," then video games should also be considered art. Which is somewhat preposterous. Entertainment, yes. Art, not so much.

The question I have is how much of this "art" is defined by marketing spin? I could take that same DVD, sell it in a baby goods store, and call it a developmental toy. I could synchronize it to music and call it eye candy. I could leave it be and call it a screensaver. But calling it "art" seems a bit of a stretch to me.

A bit pulled from the NYT:
"Between the Rees pieces is a large framed print, "Black and White (Old Testament)" by Mark Napier, that looks like an abstract ink drawing suggestive of wildly uncoiled spools of wire, but is actually, Mr. Sacks said, every word of the Bible converted into the digital language of ones and zeros."

Since when did translating something into binary code become "art"? If this is the case, then I should dig up all my sixth grade homework and sell it on eBay.

What happened to brushstrokes, light sources and one-of-a-kind masterpieces? Is art getting distorted or destroyed?

Disclaimer: Of course, this is just opinion. I am well aware that art is in the eye of the beholder.

Last October, the Dover School District voted to have teachers present alternative explanations to evolution, the ID theory included. Unfortunately, this ticked off some parents, who believe that ID is a "Trojan horse" for introducing religion in schools. Keep in mind, in 1987, the Supreme Court ruled that Creationism has no place in schools because the theory is based on religion.

Now to me, education is about teaching people how to think, not what to think. We need to teach kids to evaluate different philosophies and come to conclusions on their own. I've met so many people who groupthink with the majority, and who view any counterthought as an unfounded threat. It is a horrendous devolution of intellectualism.

Ideas to the contrary should not be seen as threats. If evolutionism is so sound and logical, and if indeed evolutionism is fact, then it should hold up to any challenges presented by the theory of intelligent design. Further, advocates of a particular mode of thinking should seek challenges, because as each challenge is disproved, the defending theory gains strength.

In schools, we should seek to present as many approaches to a single problem as feasible and walk students through critical analysis and objective reasoning. By only presenting students with a single line of thought, we are stunting their ability to reason.

The battle should be fought in the minds of individuals, not in the courts.

More readings:
"A Web of Faith, Law and Science in Evolution Suit." NYT, 9.26.05
Legal Docs and such produced by the NCSE

Last night I opted to take the vinyasa yoga class. It's been awhile and I can feel the protest of tight muscles. The instructor is a wiry little man, kind of like an elf with a runner's build. In fact, he might be an elf. He might've been hiding his pointy ears under that white bandana he was wearing. He might've been a magic elf!

Anyway, it was a good class. In the beginning, he had us each think of our intentions. I thought this was odd at first, but he explained further that our intention could be physical or spiritual. It could be to increase flexibility or to find inner peace. Also, instead of running us through the standard, repetitive sun salutations, he tweaked the end of each vinyasa. As a result, my mind didn't lose consciousness of my body. That's a good thing. We also did a funky angled shoulder stand that entailed sticking a block under our saccrum, length-way, and getting our feet up in the air. The pressure of the block on my lower back felt great, and doing the counter plow position afterward was wonderful. Woke up this morning and didn't feel the normal stiffness (don't go there) I usually do.

Good times. Today, I'll try out their kickboxing class.

Got to the racetrack at 8:30a sharp Saturday morning. There were plenty of people on hand guiding me to the dirt parking lot right off the track. Parked the car and headed over to registration. They had me sign a disclaimer, which was to be expected, issued me a headsock and inner gloves, then steered me toward another tent. In that tent, I got outfitted in a white Marlboro racing suit (not very flattering, but quite comfy!) and given the opportunity to pose in front of one of the racecars. What a beauty. After getting fitted for a helmet, I had about ten minutes to mingle with the ten other people in my group. Two people stood off to the side smoking, while the rest of us oogled Mustangs, IROCs and pitmen. I was still a little anxious, waiting for the catch. Waiting for them to give me a timeshare presentation. But a few minutes later, as I was easing myself through the window of a car, all my reservations disappeared.

I was nested in the passenger seat of a 240 horsepower car that had a plastic net instead of a window, and we were on a small, but true to form oval track. And then the engine! Oh my god, I felt the thrill go through my entire body. The acceleration was deeply yummy and I felt like screaming, laughing and crying all at once. Stuck with emotional indecision, I sat there, g-forces pushing me back into the seat, grinning like a complete fool. That's when I figured out what the catch was. You get a taste of speed, and all you want is more. More corners. More engine. More of that feeling! And they gave you more of it. We were all pumped with adrenalin, hooting and hollering on the way to the next track, I'd never seen so many strangers bonding so quickly.

The next track was a road course, with sharp turns and short stretches. "Our cars can turn right," quipped the track host. This was by far my favorite, I don't know what kind of car I was in, but it was beautiful. Low to the ground, all curves and sex. As I was getting buckled in, I pointed to the gear stick between me and the driver and asked, "Can I play with this?" The helmeted driver turned to me, blinked once, and said, "Oooh, not now. Maybe later." Oh my. I remember light blue eyes, a slight Aussie accent, and then speed. We were probably going slower than we were around the oval, but you could feel it more in the turns. There was so much more finesse, it was positively exhilerating.

The last track we hit was precision driving, hosted by, "Hiii Steeeve." The course was set up with a bunch of traffic cones, and I have no idea how the drivers knew which way they were supposed to turn. I just got in the Mustang, got buckled up, and went along for the ride. My driver was a petite female, but clearly a decisive woman. "You ready?" Yep! We took off, fishtailing and skidding around turns, I watched the steering wheel spin one way then the next, and at one point, at the bottom of a turn, she says, "Geez! What am I doing?" I suspect that's when we pulled the unintentional 360. All in all though, the girl was hard core.

On the way home, the adrenalin made its way down to my right foot, and my little Hyundai Tiburon never shifted smoother, nor revved higher. It wasn't until I realized the speedometer read 90, (I was supposed to be at 65), that I eased up on the accelerator. Ah well, it was the experience of a lifetime and I hope I get to taste it again.

Downstairs from all the salvaged goodies were about twenty retailers of clothing, jewelry, accessories and cosmetics. All girlie stuff. I had lured Dave here because I had thought it was an Architectural Artifacts sale, but as it turned out, the folks who organized the event merely leased out the space. But there was eye candy for Dave too, so I didn't feel too horrible. Most of the girlies in attendance dressed to the nines! Toe cleavage clad in fall tweed winked freely, bias cut skirts hugged non-existant hips, and everyone (myself included, how shameful) had the same layered cut with light fringe. It's odd, really. Dave was one of three men there, and likely the only straight one. Kind of makes you wonder why these women got dressed up? I'm sure I must've gotten a lot of looks, me in my khaki capris and olive 'n' orange sneaks. (Hey, at least I had Trixie hair.) But whatever. As dad taught me long ago, if they judge you by your appearance, you probably don't want to work with them anyway. We each had a glass of wine, I purchased an awesome little Hugo Boss shirt, a chocolate brown long-sleeved deal, for $20, and that was that.

Sandra sent me an invitation to another one next week. Think I'll give it another go. And maybe this time, I'll dress the frou frou bunny part as well. ;)

"I'll just tell you what one very interesting young neuroscientist e-mailed me last week. She said, 'Let's say you pick up a rock and you throw it. And in mid-flight you give that rock consciousness and a rational mind. That little rock will think it has free will and will give you a highly rational account of why it has decided to take the route it's taking.' So later on we will get to 'the conscious little rock,' and you will be able to decide for yourself: 'Am I really...merely...a conscious little rock?'"

I read this as I was sitting at the bus stop on the way to work. That one paragraph put such a grin on my face that when I looked up, some guy smiled back at me and winked. He must've been reading the same book.

***

Thursday, Sept 8
8:15p - Carolyn arrives in San Diego and picks up full size car.
Drives to Alpine

9:30p - Load up car and drive to Los Angeles. Yosemite is 320 miles
from Los Angeles, and is expected to take six hours.

Friday, Sept 9
8:00a - Depart Los Angeles for six-hour drive. We'll be taking Hwy 41
to Yosemite's South Gate entrance. On our way, we'll make a slight
detour to the Madera Wine Trail, which features about a dozen wineries
including Quady, the producers of Essensia. Essensia is that sweet
dessert wine made from orange muscat grapes. Dad won't like it, but
mom will. We'll pick up a couple bottles to enjoy around the
campfire.

3:00p - Arrive in Yosemite via South Gate entrance. Proceed to
Housekeeping Camp in Yosemite Valley. Located
in the heart of Yosemite Valley, camp is within walking distance of
all major attractions and is on the valley shuttle route, stop 12.
Facilities include central restroom and shower facilities and a small
grocery store.

4:00p - 1/2 mile easy hike. Lower Yosemite Fall, shuttle stop 7. This
easy walk to the base of Yosemite Falls, the fifth highest waterfall
in the world, consisting of upper and lower falls dropping 2,425 feet
into two mighty cataracts that flow into the Merced River.

6:00p - Dinner: Mountain Room at Yosemite Lodge. Shuttle stop 8.
"Blond wood paneling, low lights and the killer view of Yosemite Falls
make this a grand dinner house, not formal but with considerable
panache." This is one of the few places in the Valley that offers
outdoor dining in the summer. No reservations, come early.
Post-dinner, return to campsite for fire and wine!

Saturday, Sept 10
8:00a - Breakfast at the Dining Room at the Ahwahnee Hotel, shuttle
stop 3. "One of the most famous and impressive dining rooms in the
world, this is a stunner -- 130 feet long, lined with tall windows
looking onto a meadow and forest setting, with huge wrought-iron
chandeliers hanging from a 34-foot-tall ceiling." Menu includes
omlettes, frittatas, apple crepes and tradtion fare.

9:00a - Get pack lunch at Yosemite Lodge Food Court, shuttle stop 8

10:00a - 3-mile hike. Mist Trail to Vernal Fall, shuttle stop 16.
"Begins on a paved steep trail climbing 400 feet in elevation to the
bridge and close-up views of Vernal Fall, which drops over a 317-foot
cliff in a wide, mighty stream encircled by rainbows at its base.
Bring a parka for the cold, drenching spray. There are restrooms and
a water fountain located here. From here, can take the half-mile
mountain side trail to the top of the fall...this hike gives you the
most scenery and thrills for the shortest distance." Should take
about two hours. We'll eat our lunches at the top overlooking Emerald
Pool.

1:00p - Curry Village for shopping and coffee. Carolyn would like to
check out the Mountain Shopping store for gear. ;) Shuttle stop 20.

3:00p - Drive around until dinner. Sights we will want to see: Half
Dome, El Capitan, Cathedral Spires, etc. etc.

6:00p - Dinner at Wawona. Hwy 41, 2 miles from the South Gate
entrance. Directed by a fabulous head chef, the menu is a cross
between California cuisine and American comfort food. . Recently
redecorated, has views of the beautiful hotel grounds and glowing
sunsets over Wawona Meadow. No reservations.
Post-dinner, return to campsite for fire and wine!

Sunday, Sept 11
6:00a - Pack up! Breakfast at Curry Village Coffee Corner, shuttle
stop 14 (or drive). Depart Yosemite by 8a. Carolyn's flight from SDA
is at 5:55p.

The Amish faith dictates purity and simplicity. No electricity, no cars, no telephones. Clothing is unadorned, and any display of wealth is abhorred. I saw an Amish farmer tending his field with a horse-drawn tiller. It was mesmerizing. As a culture, Americans are so focused on completion rather than on the journey. While I watched the farmer, a voice in the back of my head kept saying, "Go, go, go." I was silently willing the farmer and his team to get to the end of the row. Then it dawned on me. The goal is not to complete the row, but to till the soil. It wasn't until then that I realized I am predisposed to desire the wrong end. We shouldn't be striving for success. We should focus on performing every act to the best of our ability. Wealth and success should be seen as corresponding outcomes, not goals.

Which puts the Amish in an interesting, and somewhat unresolved conundrum. Their work ethic is so strong, yet they reject materialism. Consider their low cost lifestyle. No electricity, no gas, how much does it cost the farmer to till his farm? Perhaps time, and the cost of feed. As such, the margin on his yield is enormous. Wealth is an unavoidable byproduct of Amish farming and conflicts with their belief system. Their own beliefs challenge their own identity.

An old Amish tale tells the story of a man who goes to church and comments to his wife, "We are the most modestly dressed family here." That show of pride counters the intent of modest dress.

It is also interesting to note that Amish do pay local, state and federal taxes. However, when it comes time for them to take advantages of social benefits, such as unemployment or social security, they often opt to not to, believing that it is the community's responsibility to care for its own.

All said, I was grounded by the faith of another. Needed it.

Was a great Sunday evening, and got home with enough time to get to bed early in preparation for today's journey to Amish Country. Woke up at 7am, ate leftover Dave's Eggs (nothing better, still can't figure out what makes them so tasty), and packed in record time. I just printed out directions to the campsite, and it looks like an easy 3 hour drive or so. Carb and cal healthy snacks are packed, I'll pick up an oil change, charcoal and coffee on the way out and everything should be smooth sailing. That is, until I have to pitch that tent! I figure I'll take today easy. Pitch the tent, find dinner, do some easy reading. Tomorrow I'll do the 100-mile tour via audio CD, and Wednesday I'll hit the auction, as recommended by my 1,000 Places to See Before You Die book. Anyway, off to get that oil change. Hellllooooo Jiffy Man!

Many goodies in the mail also. Loyola sent an invite to a Caravaggio art exhibit premiering at the school's museum. I suspect it's because I donated this year. Either way, it means I get to see Mr. Clauson in a suit. Yums. I also got an invitation from Marlboro to ride around on a racetrack with an instructor. A four-hour racing class. I called the number, read all the fineprint, and there doesn't seem like there's any catch, so we'll see what happens! It could just be a promotional event targeted at a particular Midwest demographic, and sure I'll tell them I smoke if it gets me on a track.

Anyway, Dave should be here soon, so time to sign out. We're going straight over to ShareASale to drop off my plant. :)