Looking Out

Camel's Hump

When faced with a footwear decision between 12-year old L.L. Bean hiking boots covered in cobwebs, potentially fermenting in your closet or your comfy Nike tennis shoes you've already broken in because you wear them for other athletic excursions—I think it's obvious what any logical person would choose before going on a 2.4-mile hike up a mountain. I was so close to putting on my Nikes, but then my husband began lamenting how sneakers don't really support your ankles properly. Forget sneakers, dust off hiking boots. I grabbed wool socks, too, because everyone knows cotton does really bad things to sweaty hikers (the sexual advances are so unsettling). Plus, I figured if I were to do this hike right, I might as well look the part.

Survival?

Why is it so much easier to retreat, back down, and implode into a world where all the boundaries are defined, known, and predictable? Even if that world is a small, suffocating sphere of routine? If the world were to turn upside down, and either zombies, the plague, nuclear fall-out, or a gruesome combination of all three encompasses the planet, I am pretty sure I would welcome the simplicity of survival over the simplicity of just existing. That seems silly. And ungrateful. And psychotic. Especially with the current state of affairs: uprisings, Tsunamis, political unrest, etc. How is it possible that I would prefer a world similar to "I Am Legend" over the cushy, comfort of my current lifestyle of sushi on Thursdays, martinis on Saturdays, cookies on Sundays, and a workweek interspersed with workouts and 3rd-grade homework?

Self-Portrait as a Balloon

In grad school, I decided to take a self-portrait. However, this self-portrait wasn't going to include any real parts of me. Only a figurative me. I didn't feel like showing myself to the camera would do justice to how I felt I looked to the world. So, I constructed an avatar, so to speak, to take my place. A phavatar. "It" was created from a dozen or so transparent balloons and it had a head, shoulders, arms, legs, feet, neck, and hands. I also gave it breasts. Balloon breasts. With the end piece where you tie off the rubber acting as the nipple. Hot, I know. I had to make it feel exposed, vulnerable, transparent. It was a form, but with no substance. An arm was just as much a balloon as was the leg as was the head as was the buttocks. The cells were all the same, just filled with indiscernible amounts of air and dust particles. The only defining characteristic of individual components were where they were placed in relationship to each other. An arm was an arm because it wasn't a leg. The head was a head because it crowned the balloon form and it was singular in it's presence. No symmetrical component complemented it.

Gazz Up That Noggin

Go ahead! Bling up your noggin. Why be sexy only in the privacy of your private areas? Jennifer Love Hewitt may swear by vajazzling, but I say nogazzle your way to a new and confident you! Here are the steps to transforming your noggin into a gorgeous, shimmering gem (and just in time for summer!):

For old time's sake, I played Life with my sister on New Year's Eve. Thought it might be fun to gamble on an old classic as we welcomed in a new decade. I had fond Life memories; sitting around the dinner table with my family, my sister in long pigtails, my brother wearing a t-shirt and a grin, and I perched on my knees in the swivel chair sporting a black leotard and jeans, we advanced though the different stages of Life—school, marriage, babies, insurance, and retirement—with my mom typically winning at the very end as she dumped all her earnings and belongings on one number and betting she would hit that number with a quick twist of the white spinner nob. However, as I opened the box, I was much dismayed to find that I had a newer version of Life. Damn you Life!

Replay Life