Bear Down

One of the entertaining things about today's football game--the one in Chicago--is that there's snow, and it's obviously cold. (And I've been outside twice today; it IS cold.) So many sporting events, including the Stupid Bowl, are encased in domes and/or played in warm areas of the country, such that weather isn't often a part of whatever game is being played. I was mid-massage when the Bears scored the first time, and, because the massage room is over a bar/restaurant, the masseur and I could hear the cheers from downstairs. It was pretty amusing. While I don't care greatly about who wins (not least because football doesn't do that much for me), I can't quite get on board with the notion that everyone should root for the Saints because of Katrina. I'm glad the citizens of that fair city have found some solace in their football team's season, of course, but I do, after all, live in the other city, and, more to the point, the proportions of the disaster in New Orleans were the product of the current administration's incompetence and cruelty. The residents of New Orleans would not have suffered nearly as much if the federal government had done its job at any of several points along the way. That simple fact has gotten lost, somehow; we're supposed to think that the extent of the damage was purely and solely the result of the hurricane, and golly, isn't it great that the People survived. Yes, I'm glad they have survived, but let's not forget that it's no thanks to the administration.

If you watch the crowd, that's pretty entertaining, too. I assure you that those people cannot even feel the cold. I also guarantee that Chuck is about jumping out of his skin. (I tried to make sure he could watch the games when we were together, not least because his last wife apparently managed to schedule family outings during games, but I often could not be around while he was watching.) He typically has the game on the television AND the radio, so he can get the local play-by-play, and he has more pieces of clothing with the Bears' logo on it than I could count. You may be able to hear the Bears' fight song after they score; I actually know some of the words to it, thanks to extensive exposure (not all from Chuck, either). The Bears have scored several times since I sat down and started writing, putting the game out of reach; this town is going to be insane for the next two weeks. Luckily for me, Bossman doesn't really care about football at all, and neither do the other guys at the bakery, so I don't have to hear about it all day every day.

And, yes, you read that correctly: I did, in fact, treat myself to a massage. There's a guy in the neighborhood--two blocks away--who has a lot of interesting massage experience and who is about to become certified in acupuncture as well, and he offered me 25% off the first massage. It was a very good massage, made even better by the fact that, by the time I wandered over there, I had finished all of the editing in my inbox and done my laundry and made my tea, so this afternoon is an exercise in relaxation. Which is good, because Bossman wants me to work tomorrow, to teach a friend of his from Michigan how to laminate. I wasn't all that enthused about giving up a day off, if you want to know, but I've decided that this year is about working my ass off even more and trying to save some money. (It's also about getting to the dentist, the eye doctor, and the gynecologist, all of which will suck a couple of grand out of my pocket, but you gotta do what you gotta do.)

I also realized in the past week that I am not going to join the Y. There were joining deals during January, including at the place a block from the bakery--and I couldn't even manage to get to one of them to check out the places for free. That doesn't bode well for my actually going once I'm paying for it, so I decided to bail on that (though I may try to find a used rowing machine, or even get a collapsable new one; I've realized, from running for a few trains this week, that I have no aerobic capacity whatsoever). On the other hand, lots of work means (a) lots of money (relatively speaking) and (b) not a lot of time for going out and spending it, so I'm going to try to get a massage once a month. I do have a "play" category in the budget, and if I'm not using that money for going out, might as well use it for some good bodywork.

One more task today: make my lunches for the week. I'm making a mushroom wheatberry pilaf from the Moosewood Low-Fat Cookbook. Jane made it for Christmas and I liked it so much I made it for New Year's. (Of course, I changed it a little--added some carrots and black-eyed peas to make it more meal-like.) It works really well as a lunch, too, and, with the addition of the beans and such, the recipe makes a huge wad of food. I don't mind eating the same lunch every day, and I've rediscovered the fact that eating lunch helps keep me from snarfing down various bits of less-healthy stuff around the bakery. (I've put back on a few pounds, and I want to reverse that trend, if possible.) And then, to complete my relaxation program, I think I'm going to let the friendly people at the hippy-dippy restaurant down the street make dinner for me.