wait for it

It was fun interviewing a 90-year-old philanthropist for this article and an inspiring young woman for this one (scroll down a few).

If, if I do this next bench press competition, on a beach in a singlet, I will go about it all wrong. Last time: hit chest, tris hard. Kept other muscles just above maintenance. Hit the protein. Rarely did cardio. Outcome? Was bored and stressed. Announced retirement . This time: Working everything hard. Joining a "Boot Camp" plyometric/calisthenic class to keep up the conditioning. Am eating a mostly raw foods diet, aided by my ten-dollar juicer/major garage sale find. Why be contradictory? I don't want to be bored and stressed. I want to stay conditioned. I want to eat a healthier diet because it makes me feel better. I'll work at the bench all the while, and what will be will be. Not as much invested this time, which is ironic, because this competition is more formal and official--the pause at the chest kind, wear a singlet , qualify for state record competitions if you do well competition. If, if I do this, I'm doing it for fun. I'm doing it to compete a...

Let's play Guess The Hairdresser! One boy's haircut took place at a Cosmetology School, where he received a peppermint oil scalp massage; a haircut by a woman who has studied the trade since February; multiple do-overs by her teacher, a trained professional. The one-hour appointment would have cost $18 had we not had a coupon that made it free. The other boy's haircut took place on our side deck in a green plastic chair. In a fifteen-minute span his mother, dodging mosquitoes and with no formal education in cosmetology, spruced him up using crappy scissors and dull clippers. No charge. Please note the asymmetry in Theo's neckline while making your guesses.

So let me get this straight. I'm supposed to wear this ...with a t-shirt tucked inside. Comfy. The upcoming competition has attire requirements, whereas the meets at the Y never did. At the last one, I wore a cute little black tank dress over yoga pants. And I zipped up a fleece jacket over the whole affair for added protection. Because I didn't want to be doing this ...while highlighting my ribcage and the outline of my underpants. Which is exactly what will happen if I have to wear this ...awhich I do. If, if , I'm going to go through with this.

Turns out it's not fun to bench press without a goal. Those sets at 100: boring. Today I went higher and found I'm not as fluffy as I look. Before long I was online trying to determine where to buy a "non-supportive singlet." Beach competition in 3 weeks. Why the heck not?

My friends, I have arrived.

Diana's the one who celebrated a triumphant victory on Easter: a night in a shelter instead of a jail cell. She had spent this holiday locked up the last several years running. Diana's the one with the low, husky voice. And I mean low ; when her demons shouted curses from the shower, I was sure a man had snuck in there to pick a fight. Diana is a fighter. She fights the drug addiction that took her kids from her, and while in rehab, she fought another woman and broke several of her cds. Diana battled back her demons. She acknowledged that the rehab stay was making her violent, and she took her leave--but not before paying for the damage she caused. Recovery was still the goal, but she knew she must forge her own path. On Easter, she announced the length of her sobriety in that very specific way recovering addicts do; in her case, however, there were no years and months to list, just days. 42, I think it was. On Easter, Diana dressed in a fitted sunny yellow dress and heels. Her...

At a writing conference this past April, I joined a discussion group for bloggers. Participants were mostly men and women with self-published novels, who blogged to promote them. An air of earnestness surrounded their debates on this technological "necessity." "I heard you should blog every three days, so I try to do that," said one. "I do, too, but it's hard to think of things to write," said another with a sigh. "What's a blog?" asked another. I think she had the wrong room. At one point I interrupted to offer an impassioned speech. "We write because we desire it, not because it's the thing to do!" A woman, who earlier had referred to me as "the wrestler," nodded in agreement. The others looked back down at their handouts, I suppose to continue reading "Top Ten Things Every Writer Should Do." Every three days or so I write a blog post, but not because anybody's telling me to. When a little mini-essa...