Butterfly Woman

There's this woman who occasionally works out at the Y when I'm there.  For some time now, I've thought that she annoyed me but I just realized she doesn't.  I'm quite pleased with this revelation.  I was somewhat troubled that I could be so easily annoyed with someone who I don't know and have never spoken to.  It made me feel more than a bit shallow.  As it turns out, she doesn't annoy me.  She just makes me uncomfortable.

I first noticed this person a few months ago.  I was running on a treadmill and she sat down at an exercise bike directly in front of me.  In this part of the gym all the equipment faces the same direction, toward some large-screen TVs on the wall.  At this point, I was looking at the TVs and I did not really notice this person.  I think I first took note of her when she raised both hands high above her head.  A quick stretch, I assumed.  After holding both hands directly above her head for a few seconds, she slowly brought them down in a sweeping motion - arms straight out, elbows locked - until hers arms were sticking out at her sides, like an airplane.  Okay, this seems like a bit of a "notice me" maneuver and although I did notice her I tried hard to remain focused on the TV.  After a few seconds in "airplane mode", she brought her arms in and I assumed the elaborate stretching was done and she would just work out like a normal person.  I was wrong.

Imagine a woman sitting in a meadow with dainty butterflies flitting around her head.  Now imagine her slowly reaching up and suddenly snatching a butterfly and then slowly lowering her arm and flicking the butterfly onto the ground.  Imagine her doing it over and over again.  Now imagine that she isn't in a meadow but instead is sitting on an exercise bike in a gym.  There are no butterflies - at least none that the rest of us can see.

The first time I witnessed the "butterfly episode" I don't think it bothered me too much.  But after seeing it on multiple occasions I find myself unable to not watch her - even when she uses a bike on the far side of the room.  Over time, I've found that I prefer working out when she is not present.  As I think about it now, I regret to admit that it isn't just discomfort.  She does annoy me.

Star Trek Buttons

Today I am wearing a pull-over shirt that has a definite tunic quality to it.  I don't believe it's long enough to be a true tunic but there's something about its cut and stitching says it's a close relative.

And it's making me feel all Star Trekky...

Yes, me and my shirt would fit right in with most of the colonists depicted on the old Star Trek series.  Lots of tunics and other loose-fitting clothing, most of it pull-over or the occasional robe tied with a sash.  Somewhere along the way, someone decided that in the future no one would use buttons.  This extended to the crew of the Enterprise as well - a curious absence of buttons.  Everything was pull-over until some of the later movies when I suspect the increased girth of certain stars made that option awkward.  At that point, they employed a weird wrap-around Velcro looking design.  Again, no buttons.  Buttons have been around since the Bronze Age (I looked it up).  Why would we assume that they wouldn't survive to the time of Star Trek?

The only time I remember seeing Kirk or Spock in a buttoned shirt was in one of those episodes where they went back in time to Earth.  It's a little weird that they never seemed to have any trouble buttoning them.  I mean, if you'd never worn anything but pull-over shirts and had never even seen a button before, don't you think you'd fumble around for awhile trying to figure out how it worked?

Our Costly Kitty

Last week, one of our cats (the Rat) went through a bout of retching and coughing. At first, we assumed she was just working on a hairball. She's got really long hair and we've yet to have her hack one up - I figured their must be a pretty magnificent wad building up. Anyway, after a few days it became apparent that there was something more serious bothering the cat. (A) took her in to the vet and then called me with an update. Here's how I recall the conversation:

(A): I've got the cat at the vet. They think she swallowed something but they need to take X-rays to know for sure.
Me: Oh.
(A): The X-rays cost $250.
Me: Wow, that's steep.
(A): They're figuring she'll probably end up needing surgery. That's going to cost between $800 and $1200.
Me: What? Well, we don't want to do that.

--- long, painful silence ---

Me: I mean, do we? $1200?

In the end, the Rat did need surgery. Luckily, her former owner is a vet and was able to provide the service at a substantial discount (cut rate, pardon the pun).

Foot Thumbs

Sometimes I can almost imagine that I have thumbs on my feet. It's like my brain knows just where it wants to send a signal to flex these phantom opposable digits. It can even feel a little frustrating when I am unable to move them (Oh no, my foot thumbs are paralyzed!). I can sense exactly where they should be, just up from my heel, about where my instep begins. If humans had such thumb toes, our shoes would look radically different. Or maybe we wouldn't wear shoes at all because our feet would be so much more useful. I usually only get this sensation on my right foot, but then I'm right-handed so maybe that makes sense. Anyway, as I sit at my desk this morning I am yearning to clinch my foot.

The Men's Locker Room - A Poem

Am I a prude because I choose to wear a towel around my waist,
As I travel to and from the shower in my haste?
I sometimes wonder if perhaps that might be what you think,
As you linger fully naked at the mirrors and by the sink.

You're comfortable within your skin, as all can plainly see.
The rest of us, we all agree, you have no modesty.
When you undress, I must confess, uneasiness increases,
As we avert our eyes and you expose your bits and pieces.