Easter Island…or Insular. Both Crappy Choices.

Posted on August 14, 2014 by tosabarbell

easter island

A fun pre-bedtime story for us at times is House Hunters International. We get to see and learn about lands far away (that Bigg actually HASN’T been to yet) and then make fun of the people who are uber picky about it’s homes for sale (fucking Americans.)

Easter Island is 14 miles wide by 7 miles long. Soooooo, a road trip is like going from our house to Lake Michigan. Only natives may own land (which makes for a boring episode of House Hunters) and there are nearly 900 (I think I heard 887) of the statues around the Island. Which means you pretty much have a view of a statue no matter where you live. And as for the living conditions? Uhhhhh, scarce. You could have a modern home or a hut with no water or electricity. Land is passed down from family member to family member and it is completely common for folks to never leave the Island. To never know a world beyond it’s beaches. 

Ummmmmm, no thanks. It’s like when folks hear I was born on Maui. ‘Oh my gawddddd, don’t you wish you lived there instead?” Well no, of course not. If I wanted to live there I would. Duh. I kinda like packing up the family Tahoe and road tripping from Minnesooooota to Seattle with a backseat full of kids. A four hour road trip around an Island? No. That’s not a road trip. That’s a battle with the foking tourists who are not watching the road AND believing they are entitled to act like adorable assholes and just stop in the road to take a picture of a waterfall. . Haoles. 

Anyways. 

Another version of Easter Island syndrome is right here in good ‘ol Milwaukee. No where else have I lived where folks are so completely insular. The drivers? They actually believe this is THEIR road. So if merging is necessary, it becomes a fight to the death (literally at times) to ensure that they do NOT let anyone merge into traffic. Of course these silly people aren’t developed enough to understand that had they just let folks in one at a time, traffic would flow much smoother. No. This is a question of honor. To let someone merge is a show of weakness. THIS IS WHERE WE HOLD THEM! THIS IS WHERE WE FIGHT! Seems to be the common mantra on the local roads. Fok.

Another awesome characteristic of the Milwaukee silly person whose life has revolved around a 5.2 square mile circumference is that these folks know all the answers to the Universe. No, foShizzle. Just ask ’em. In fact, you won’t have to. Cuz even though they have never ventured off the exact same path to the exact same grocery store for the last 20 years, they’ll let you know how others in the world (the world being at least 5 miles outside of Milwaukee) live. Uh huh. 

easterisland1

And gods forbid you bring the real world into their lives. Like, if you need help with something but it’s unpleasant and doesn’t reek of Unicorns and Cotton Candy? Forget it. Real life is not something this little sector of Cheeseheads like to deal with. If we could just ignore each other until the crisis has passed that’d be great kthxbye. 

At the end of the day, there are two realities (okay, more than that but stay focused.) A. We do not live on Easter Island. 2) We are not insular. 

We live in the world. We are the world (I feel like if I made a song with that lyric it’d be really huge. Like, if I got really hyooge stars to sing it it’d be a video that was played at Christmas time each year or something like that. I dunno, it’s just a feeling.) But what I mean by that is that we are what we put into it. If we joke with our neighbors (like when they are walking over to say hey and I’m in the middle of a really good rant using the F word and they laugh) and we know we have each others backs; that’s good. Or when a friend calls and says they need “X” right now you drop everything and jump in the car to get to them with wine as soon as possible. Ya know, the world. Or when someone presents a situation they are going through that is even a little bit inconvenient for us, we leap in feet first to help cuz that’s what people do. 

But if you choose to live on your own little Easter Island, don’t be shocked when folks don’t want to join you. Cuz the bulk of us live in the rest of the world. The one with people; and problems; and needs; and wants; and taxi’s; and stupid training videos; and Monty Python (thank gawds.) 

Our prime purpose in life is to help others. And if you can’t help them, at least don’t hurt them.

Dalai Lama

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Soul Train

Posted on August 13, 2014 by tosabarbell

soultrain

I am a notoriously bad sleeper. I’ve mentioned it once or a thousand times before. Usually I get to blame it on the hubby’s snoring but he’s some 7,916 miles away right meow so I guess this is on me. Bummer.

The other night was particularly rough. A 1:25am wake up call instead of the usual 3:30am. That’s two hours less sleep than the usual crappy five hours of sleep. What to do, what to do. The first thing I do is re-run the movie that’s in the player that put me to sleep in the first place. Currently, it’s a disc from the first season of Deadwood. Yup. Guns; horses; and the soothing sounds of Swearengen’s “cocksucker” every four lines usually does the trick. Not this time. Nuts. Time for another episode. That didn’t work either so I just turned it off and tried the tv. Yes, I’ve read where we’re not supposed to turn on the television. We’re just supposed to lay still and go to a happy place. Hey, ya know what my happy place is? Sleeping. Ya know what happens when I’m not there? I get pissed and agitated and travel further and further away from my happy place.

So tv it is. At some point, around 3:30 I think I happened on some videos on the MtV. I didn’t know they ran videos anymore. It must be a middle of the night thing. The first video was Fatboy Slim, Weapon of Choice. Giddyup. Christopher Walken dancin’ the night away. Not a horrible way to spend some insomnia. Cool. Thought I’d stick around for a while.

The next video had a bunch of early 80’s style aerobic dressed exercisers coming into the gym with a skinny dude. Hokay, I’ll bite. Maybe this will be interesting. I’d never heard of the song (which I guess is 10 years old.) Typical.

Anyways. Remember those old aerobic class videos that came on around six in the morning before school? I’d come downstairs to shower and catch my brother watching them. Hilarious. I’d give him endless shit about it. So when it looked like someone made another unoriginal music video copying MtV nearly 30 years ago, I actually stopped to look. After all, there COULD be a new twist on it. Right?

Ya, not so much. The video was boring enough but the words to the song? Worse. So worse that I Googled that shit. Here they are:

Call on me, call on me
Call on me, call on me
Call on me, call on me
Call on me, call on me
Call on me, call on me
Call on me, call on me
Call on me
I’m the same boy I used to be

That’s it. Those words. Over. And over. And over. SRSLY. What in the ever living fok is going on with music? That this is 10 years old and music hasn’t improved since then made me even more agitated.

Annoyed, I surfed around to see what else I could find. And there it was, one of the best infomercials out there…

soultrain1

An entire hour (yes, I know this because at 5am I was still up) of clips from early days of the show. The Jackson 5. Earth, Wind, and Fire. Marvin Gaye. The list goes on and on. Now, I grew up with a choice of either American Bandstand or Soul Train. Sure, you could watch both but they ran close to each other on Saturday mornings so if I didn’t want to get up every few minutes (remotes? What are those?) I’d have to pick one. And it was Soul Train. Hands down.

The music was better. The dancers were better. And the costumes? SRSLY…

soultrain2

…if there is ONE white girl our there who saw Tina Turner rockin’ those thigh high boots and didn’t immediately want a pair I will denounce you as a liar and a liar. True story. She rocked the shit out of those boots. Still does actually. SRSLY. Lady Gaga has nothing on these 70’s performers. The more outrageous, the more they backed the look up with their music. Who can say that today? (Gawd, I feel very “get off my lawn” right now.)

So while I didn’t get any sleep. At least I was entertained. If you watch this, and aren’t, I don’t really need to know you.

You can’t start worrying about what’s going to happen. You get spastic enough worrying about what’s happening now.

Lauren Bacall

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Auntie’s Shoes

Posted on August 12, 2014 by tosabarbell

Auntie’s shoes next to Bigg’s

When I was very young, my often somber childhood took a turn for the better. My Auntie and Uncle moved back to Minnesota from Phoenix bringing my cousins Paul & barely talking Denise with them. They even lived with us for a short time while they found a home in Minneapolis. And they brought a microwave. A MICROWAVE! It was huge and took the whole counter but bygod, we had a microwave. Every day after school I would beat a couple of eggs in a coffee cup; toss it in the ‘Mic’, and let ‘er rip. BOOM! Scrambled eggs in 30 seconds. Rock star.

I’ve always had a special relationship with Auntie and Uncle, even when I didn’t know it. See, when my parents adopted me down in Texas, Dennis & Karen were in Hawaii and were so excited for their new Hawaiian niece that they bought me a grass skirt and top. I still have it. Dunno what I’ll do with it, but I’ve got it. When they moved to Minnesota, a whole new life opened up for us. We took time for more fun. Trekking out to Lake Street with not only a White Castle one way from Auntie’s house but a Winchell’s donuts the other. Disco.

My Uncle Dennis always brought out the fun in my dad. You could catch a glimpse of silly boys in their youth. Raising hell and trying to keep it from Grandpa (they never did.) See, my dad (Pastor John) was quite a big hellion in his youth and those stories only came out when Uncle Dennis was around and they’d laugh about them in front of my Grandpa who would just shake his head.

As for my Auntie, due to her (dare I say?) 5 foot (I don’t think it’s that tall) frame, she was always (still does) wearing higher wedged shoes. Whenever we’d go to their house, I would make a beeline for her closet and put on her stylish shoes. Until the 4th grade. That’s when I grew out of them. I can tell you this, it was a sad day for this big boned Hawaiian when I could no longer wear Auntie’s shoes. I didn’t have pretty shoes of my own and it would be a while before I got a pair. Now I have two! Wedged pairs of shoes that are Auntie wearable. I adore them and they are the only high heeled shoes I can wear for hours and hours. I’ve even flown in one pair comfortably. (Two may not seem like a lot but I hate shopping so once I find a pair I’ll wear them to death. True story.)

Our years growing up with Auntie and Uncle and Paul and Denise close by were good ones. Paul & I spent hours watching Get Smart; The Smothers Brothers; and Monty Pythons Flying Circus. We would laugh hysterically for hours and hours. To this day, my Firefighter cousin is one of my favorite people on earth. That he is happier now than he has been for a long time makes my heart swell and I’m so thankful I can hardly stand it. Denise, 6 1/2 years younger and I took a bit longer to become close due to our age but I believe she and I now have the sister relationship I didn’t have with my own and her kids are two of the most important little people in my life besides my own kids. Get the picture? These people are the most important family I have. Have been for a long time. Longer than I can remember. When we’re with them, the world is good.

So when we get the chance to  travel to the Seattle area, where they all are now, AND throw heavy stuff around. Well, we say, HELLZ YA! The last two years, we’ve enjoyed a couple of extra days out in the PNW with the Peterson crew. Next year, we may add more. Maybe try to throw in Portland the weekend before the ‘Claw and road trip for a week and have extra time with them. We just never have enough time. Not enough time for Ferry rides…

pnwferrymtbaker

The Muk Ferry with Mt. Baker in the background.

Not enough time for Penn Cove mussles. Not enough time for Henri’s donuts (although with the Oz man along this time, we had PLENTY of Henri’s visits.) Not enough time for Auntie to feed us the most amazing food (well, we did have time but of course I want MOAR!)…

Auntie’s meatloaf. SO ono!

Just not enough time. But we DID have enough time to smell the roses, errr, I mean hydrangeas (my favorite)

pnwhydrangeas

And enjoy spectacular views of Madame Rainier from not only the field and on the way to the field, but from the last Ferry ride before we left on Monday:

pnwrainierferry

I can never get enough of Mt. Rainier.

Leaving the safe haven of Auntie and Uncle’s home is never easy for me. I never want to leave. Knowing I’ll return helps, but it is still a pensive time. Knowing their love is a gift. Knowing the peace and beauty of the Pacific Northwest with them in it is even better.

And as if knowing that saying goodbye makes me a little sad, the sun shines on the Sound and gives me one more memory of it’s splendor…

PNWlast

View from Auntie and Uncle’s driveway on our way out.

 

When in doubt, go for the dick joke.

Robin Williams

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Monday Bacon: Bolt On’s

Posted on August 11, 2014 by tosabarbell

bolton

Inevitably, when folks hear that I am a strength coach, they dive into the “ya, I should work out more, I was really athletic in High School.” High School? Anyone who played sports was athletic in high school, it was high school. Sure, there were some physical idiots trying to play soccer but who cares? 99% of us all ended up in the same place, NOT in professional sports. I’ll respond in different ways depending on my mood. Usually it’s just a polite smile (dude, you asked what I did for a living and I told you. I’m not judging you, I just answered a question.) If a dude is being particularly smarmy (what’chu gonna teach ME little lady) I may give my, That’s okay-strong isn’t for everybody reply and walk away. A little nicer version of that is Oh we don’t work out, we train and watch their confused expression and polite smile.

But the ‘ol High School retort isn’t NEARLY as bad as the, “Oh my gods can you help me get my arms to look like Michelle Obama’s? I just love her arms” or “All I want to do is fix my (fill in the blank here.)” And when I look them in the eye and tell them (usually girls, come on-you know it’s true) that it doesn’t really work that way they gloss over and I know I’ve just lost a potential paycheck.

But it doesn’t. Know that now. We use our bodies as a complete system. Duh. Tell me when in your life (barring catastrophic injury affecting limbs below the knee)  you have sat down and ONLY used your quads as the leg curl machine would have you believe? When? When! Doesn’t happen. When you get up out of the chair (or gods forbid a low couch) you really don’t honestly believe that it’s your massive quads (no, they’re not massive. It’s just that the rest of you is puny) getting you out of said chair. Cuz you start with your feet on the ground, yes? You push a little to get some momentum, get your calfs; knees; hammies, and abs involved a bit? Maybe use your back and arms to propel you out? One system, working together. So all of those machines your WAC trainer has you talked into to “Fix those imbalances” are actually a load of crap. The trainers just don’t know what to do with barbells so they rely on machines to keep you entertained instead of knowledge. True story.

I have had two “trainers” in my lifetime. Both have told me my left side is weaker than my right and so we’re going to do a whole hour of left sided “strength” movements to fix that. My response? No we’re not. That’s stoopid. What do I care if I can Kroc row 50 pounds on my left side and 60# on my right? I guess if I had a stroke someday that took out my right side but really, a 50# Kroc row on the left is just fine and guess how I’ll rehab? BY WORKING MY BODY AS A WHOLE! Double duh.

We are not a bunch of modern day Frankenstein bolted together piece by piece where we get to pick and choose what each body part is going to look like. Well, we could I guess, but then we’d look like this…

Gratuitous bolt on pic

…she was a cute young woman once. Now? (And no, porn star isn’t the same thing.)

But more than likely, you’re going to have to accept that you own a body part that is less pleasing than you’d like and just enjoy being stronger. Cuz you will. Waking up and walking around standing straighter with a little attitude cuz you just PR’d your squat or snatch or deadlift and understanding you may have to do that without Michelle Obama’s arms (by the way, she doesn’t train. She just got those arms. And they come with one of the coldest personalities on the planet. No thank you.)

But okay, prove me wrong. Prove your WAC trainer knows more than me. Sit down right now and get up just using one muscle. In fact, use the one that you’ve been paying hundreds of dollars a month to get stronger. But just one. Go ahead, I’ll get another cup of coffee. Waiting….how’s it working for ya…I’m back. You still on your chair? Uh huh, thought so. Get training. OH and by the way, it’s not too late.

Flo Meiler in 2013

Think you can pole vault (among other T&F events) going into your 80’s with isolation training? Heh.

I do not wish women to have power over men; but over themselves.

Mary Shelley

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