bleah!!!

Workout notes I managed to make my 6 am yoga class but had to come home right afterward to tend to my wife (still laid up with her foot); but then I couldn’t get outside because she didn’t know when her doctor’s appointment is and will have to call. Normally I walk prior to the class but her son was over last night so I didn’t get to sleep when I normally do.

But snow is on the way this afternoon. *&^%$#!!! so walking outdoors probably won’t be an option.

Hey, does anyone out there want a, ahem, rubenesque female sexagenarian with a bad foot? You can have her!

Update the appointment wasn’t until 2:45, so I was able to get in 5 miles outdoors! Basically, I averaged about 14 minute miles on the slick areas (temperatures just at freezing; perhaps 1 degree above), and 13 minute miles on the rest. Not great, but ok for a winter walk outdoors.

By the way, someone is whining about a grade school class singing a song about Santa which is about Santa being “too fat”. Oh yes, her avatar is a photo of a heavier than average woman walking from behind, while wearing tight jeans. I won’t say anything else.

Note: as far as the song, I can see why people might not like it. I see fat this way: if you are morbidly obese, you will reduce your risk factors by moving into the “obese” category, provided you do so via healthy means. And frankly, there are some cool fat people out there that I’d like to see hang around our planet for a long time! (e. g., Michael Moore)

But as far as being a few pounds overweight: who friggin cares! Ok, I do, for myself, mostly because carrying more weight hurts my performance at endurance events. But most people are sane enough not do to these things.

Just be active enough to be healthy, ok? I’d like to have you on this planet for a while longer.

Some politics Vote Hillary Clinton. Why? Because some woman couldn’t get the men in her household to help clean up.

There seems to be no way around this. No matter how much I yell, scream, beg, or threaten, I’m still the one scouring the pans, cleaning the carpets, and gathering up everybody else’s discards. If you’re a mom, or you have a mom, you know what I’m talking about. We’re the ones that are cleaning up right now, whether we want to do it or not. While everyone else is off ice skating, hanging out at malls, shooting baskets or shooting the bull, we’re picking everyone’s mess.

It’s a gender thing: Women clean up the messes. [...]

A woman understands what it means to handle the dirty work. To change diapers on only two hours of sleep, to clean up a child’s vomit while you’re dressed in evening clothes. To handle the house, to take care of the kids, to bake classroom cookies at midnight in between loads of laundry, to do the grocery shopping after an eight hour shift. To be the first one up in the morning, and the last one to bed at night.

Obama doesn’t know from this. Biden hasn’t got a clue about this. Nor does Dodd. Richardson. Edwards. Or any other man candidate.

Hillary knows what I’m talking about.

The guy candidates have modeled themselves after their dads. Hillary comes from a long line of hardworking women who have been her role models.[...]

And yes, this “diary” made a brief say on the recommended list.

Unfortunately, there isn’t a way to give a diary a “inverse recommendation”.

The one possible point is that, when it comes to the general election, HRC might actually underpoll; that is, she might get more votes than the polling shows.

But there is this annoying undercurrent that I am seeing at the Kos: “yeah, our candidates are good, but if you want to win, nominate the white guy because the woman and the black don’t have a chance.”

I am not so sure. Where is is true that JRE might well get more rural votes than the others, I don’t know if it will be enough of an effect to actually swing states, but HRC’s women voters might be more universal.

Still, I am sticking with Obama as I think that he is the best of the three, and there is no way of knowing until you try.

On a more uplifting note, a Cosmic Variance blogger talks about getting along with theists.

[...]The reason that she couldn’t quite give up Santa yet is simple. At this point, Santa makes her happy. Deeply, contentedly happy. On some level she knows that the mechanics of Santa go against everything else she understands about how the world operates. And yet, the idea that there is still a little bit of magic that might operate in her very own life makes her giddy.

As adults, even the most rational of us sometimes make small concessions to that joy in letting ourselves believe in something wonderful, but not sensible. When I bowl, I firmly believe that absurd amounts of body english after the ball has left my hand are key to keeping the ball out of the gutter. I obviously “know” that this can’t possibly help, but it makes me really happy to indulge my belief that it does. I have friends who have chants that will make parking spaces open up, who carry umbrellas to prevent it from raining, or who have magical articles of clothing that are critical to the success of their favored sports team. All of these beliefs are obviously absurd, but satisfying nonetheless.

Which in the end, is why I typically stay out of the God vs the Atheists discussions in the blogosphere. I am soft enough of heart to take no pleasure in trying to argue people out of something that makes them deeply happy. I find no evidence for what they believe, and I profoundly disapprove of any attempt to institutionalize those beliefs beyond an individual church/synagog/mosque, but I just cannot build up a big head of steam to fight against individuals’ believing in something that helps them cope with life’s frustrations, tediums, and cruelties. I am not blind to the evils that have been visited upon us in the name of organized religion. [...]

Because I have seen individuals make themselves miserable over religion (a gay person can’t accept herself, someone else thinks that he has been predestined to hell because he won’t fake “speaking in tongues”, a family member is shunned because they don’t believe in the family superstition), my message is “hey, your religious myths are irrational and make no sense. Believe in them if it helps you get by, but realize that you are making a choice to believe something. You don’t have to pretend to believe that if it doesn’t work for you!”

And as far as tolerance: “I’ll accept your disbelief in the Flying Spaghetti Monster” if you accept my disbelief in your god.”