Bloggin' the Day Away: Sunday
A rag-tag grab-bag (can you say that ten times, fast?) of Sundayness.
1. Am I falling apart? For some time now, I've been noticing this occasional stifness in my left hip. Today, as I am walking around Cobble Hill, I notice another thing. Every time I take a step, there's this *pop* as I move my leg back, a pop in my hip, as of bone on bone. WTF?!?! Am I a hundred years old? Is there some kind of physical therapy I can do for this? I practiced different kinds of steps, walking around Cobble Hill with my right hand over my left hip flexor like a weirdo. No help. Merde.
2. Yesterday I went jogging again on my favorite Big Symbol Of America. Thanks to Google Pedometer, I now know that my house to the middle of the Brooklyn Bridge and back is exactly four miles. I plan to do this more often, now, because of a brand new belly I chanced to notice on myself at work on Friday. You know: more running, fewer treats, more vegetables, less wine; go go, Gadget Metabolism! Lame and boring, but necessary. The sedentariness of a white-collar lifestyle is really a bad deal sometimes. Anyway. Now I hope that the running isn't causing the hip weirdness, and that the hip weirdness doesn't prevent the running.
3. I feel as though the crux of every story I tell lately is, "So, I'm getting old." Will it be this way for the rest of my life? I'm just going through an 'I'm-getting-old' phase maybe, and in a year or two I'll get over it and find something else to be obsessed with?
4. The changing of the seasons continues apace. I've been readying myself for fall, digging on that feeling of urgency that taps an ancient impulse to store up nuts, lay in supplies, and get right with the powers that be. Yesterday I did the most elaborate cycle of laundry ever. I washed all the sweaters that have lain under my bed for half a year. I packed the summer clothes underneat the bed. I washed a jacket. I picked up two pairs of jeans I'd taken to the tailor, to have threadbare bottoms fixed. I picked up four pairs of shoes I'd taken to the cobbler, to have pinchy toes stretched, and fallen-off heels put back on. Who can tell me what it is, the deep satisfaction of taking care of one's things? It is pure and irresistable, like the pleasure of adding up a column of sums and getting a right answer. Mending. Taking care of business. Being a little bit thrifty. This is another one of those "I'm getting so old that I'm getting a kick out of banal thing X" stories, but it's true.
I wonder what the world was like back when practicing the stewardship of objects was not so rare. Nowadays, there are whole classes of objects (most objects?) that there is no point in getting fixed. Maybe not even anyone to fix them if you wanted to. Television sets. Toasters. Throw it away, get a new one. I have a real respect for the shoe-repair man. He re-heeled my purple kitten heels better than they were the first time, with six solid nails going into each one. I have always been a sucker for competency in the material world. To possess such skills seems "empowering" in a real sense, seems worthy of this possibly over-used word. Competency with the material world seems to be one of the things that the capitalist system of mass production has robbed us of. Maybe it's even the most serious loss of all.
Or maybe I'm just into saving a few ducats on shoes and pants.
5. Speaking of fashion, this season is IMO the weirdest we've had in a while. It's the first season I can remember that's not just "hey, let's all dress up like some other decade"; this time, I'd be hard pressed to describe the style in terms of any other individual time in history, though there are plenty of elements of this 'n' that. I've been enjoying the 24-hour street fashion show that New York provides. I've also inveigled myself into spending more than I probably should have on clothing, going deep into the weird clothes-buying frenzy that I work myself into, once every couple of years. I think I'm about to come out the other side of it nicely set up, though, replete with all the coats and jackets and pants and layers I need to stay warm and reasonably put-together through a New York City winter, and more importantly, ready to relegate clothes to the back of my consciousness again so I can get on with the other stuff.
6. I'm having those headaches again, yesterday and today. The lingering, maybe-semi-migranous headaches that play games with my consciousness and make me want to hibernate them away. I still haven't figured out what causes them. Feh.
1. Am I falling apart? For some time now, I've been noticing this occasional stifness in my left hip. Today, as I am walking around Cobble Hill, I notice another thing. Every time I take a step, there's this *pop* as I move my leg back, a pop in my hip, as of bone on bone. WTF?!?! Am I a hundred years old? Is there some kind of physical therapy I can do for this? I practiced different kinds of steps, walking around Cobble Hill with my right hand over my left hip flexor like a weirdo. No help. Merde.
2. Yesterday I went jogging again on my favorite Big Symbol Of America. Thanks to Google Pedometer, I now know that my house to the middle of the Brooklyn Bridge and back is exactly four miles. I plan to do this more often, now, because of a brand new belly I chanced to notice on myself at work on Friday. You know: more running, fewer treats, more vegetables, less wine; go go, Gadget Metabolism! Lame and boring, but necessary. The sedentariness of a white-collar lifestyle is really a bad deal sometimes. Anyway. Now I hope that the running isn't causing the hip weirdness, and that the hip weirdness doesn't prevent the running.
3. I feel as though the crux of every story I tell lately is, "So, I'm getting old." Will it be this way for the rest of my life? I'm just going through an 'I'm-getting-old' phase maybe, and in a year or two I'll get over it and find something else to be obsessed with?
4. The changing of the seasons continues apace. I've been readying myself for fall, digging on that feeling of urgency that taps an ancient impulse to store up nuts, lay in supplies, and get right with the powers that be. Yesterday I did the most elaborate cycle of laundry ever. I washed all the sweaters that have lain under my bed for half a year. I packed the summer clothes underneat the bed. I washed a jacket. I picked up two pairs of jeans I'd taken to the tailor, to have threadbare bottoms fixed. I picked up four pairs of shoes I'd taken to the cobbler, to have pinchy toes stretched, and fallen-off heels put back on. Who can tell me what it is, the deep satisfaction of taking care of one's things? It is pure and irresistable, like the pleasure of adding up a column of sums and getting a right answer. Mending. Taking care of business. Being a little bit thrifty. This is another one of those "I'm getting so old that I'm getting a kick out of banal thing X" stories, but it's true.
I wonder what the world was like back when practicing the stewardship of objects was not so rare. Nowadays, there are whole classes of objects (most objects?) that there is no point in getting fixed. Maybe not even anyone to fix them if you wanted to. Television sets. Toasters. Throw it away, get a new one. I have a real respect for the shoe-repair man. He re-heeled my purple kitten heels better than they were the first time, with six solid nails going into each one. I have always been a sucker for competency in the material world. To possess such skills seems "empowering" in a real sense, seems worthy of this possibly over-used word. Competency with the material world seems to be one of the things that the capitalist system of mass production has robbed us of. Maybe it's even the most serious loss of all.
Or maybe I'm just into saving a few ducats on shoes and pants.
5. Speaking of fashion, this season is IMO the weirdest we've had in a while. It's the first season I can remember that's not just "hey, let's all dress up like some other decade"; this time, I'd be hard pressed to describe the style in terms of any other individual time in history, though there are plenty of elements of this 'n' that. I've been enjoying the 24-hour street fashion show that New York provides. I've also inveigled myself into spending more than I probably should have on clothing, going deep into the weird clothes-buying frenzy that I work myself into, once every couple of years. I think I'm about to come out the other side of it nicely set up, though, replete with all the coats and jackets and pants and layers I need to stay warm and reasonably put-together through a New York City winter, and more importantly, ready to relegate clothes to the back of my consciousness again so I can get on with the other stuff.
6. I'm having those headaches again, yesterday and today. The lingering, maybe-semi-migranous headaches that play games with my consciousness and make me want to hibernate them away. I still haven't figured out what causes them. Feh.
posted by katherine | 5:13 PM
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