Screenshot: An Analysis.

May 4 was the 4-year anniversary of this blog and this post is the 999th entry. 

But today I did something for -- I swear -- the first time in Single in the City's history:  googled southiesingle.blogspot.com.

Not a software engineer or SEO-algorithm-type so perhaps there is logical rationale for all this, but still amused to learn from this search....

....A Mystery:  I have visited this page 4 times, last on January 8, 2012.

So it must not have been me who wrote the additional 68 posts this year.  Or the 931 posts prior.

....What's Popular:  The months January-August 2011 and my March 2009 post about Boston Marathon training injuries are seminal highlights.

The marathon post was one of two in the blog's history (the other: "Sexy in January? Inconceivable!", which might be the best title line I ever conjured) linked to the front page of The Boston Globe for a weekend.  It was also the last time the Globe touched me ... which leads me to wonder why, never, since? Prudes.

Furthermore: I spent much of early 2011 maundering about C-2.  While I should know Tales of Unrequited Love day after day is a fascinating trope.... still.

....That Kissing Makes Headlines:  Of the dozens of comments I've ever left on Evan's piece of the internet, it was my shameless plug about French-kissing that endures.  That, and me admonishing him about not knowing what a scone is.

Lovely.   Like teenagers swapping spit and insults.  For the record:  I've never either kissed (or, thank God, Frenched) with Evan.  He would undoubtedly reply with the same level of relief.

 ....And This Blog Doesn't, Really:   "In the United States, Southiesingle.blogspot.com is ranked 2,653,720."  

Hmm.  I guess that's better than 2,657,672nd.

And. 

In case you're breathless with anticipation over what Magic Post 1000 is going to be....

Join the club.  So am I!

Tired

(At the risk of revealing something I'll likely later regret, never having done that in 5 years of blogging of course) I confess that for the first time in the history of my financial-services career, I took a nap at work. During work. At my desk. While sitting up, with my hands on the keyboard.

In fact, I confess I took 2 naps .... about 5 minutes apiece, both in similar fashion. I was not totally asleep either time. But I was definitely resting my eyes. During the second one, I woke myself up with a little snore.

Yes, I am 39 years old and I napped at work.

Today I am tired, and I wish not to intrude on your joyous post-Easter thoughts with what might emerge from this brain on such a day.

Instead, I give you this:  a review in this coming week's New Yorker of the new book by Eric Klinenberg: “Going Solo: The Extraordinary Rise and Surprising Appeal of Living Alone."  A sample:

"At one point, Klinenberg suggests that living alone provides “restorative solitude”; it may be “exactly what we need to reconnect.” But most of the people he introduces seem neither especially restored nor vigorously connected. They are insecure, proud of their freedoms but hungry for contact, anxious, frisky, smug, occasionally scared—in short, they experience a mixture of emotions that many people, even those who do not live alone, are apt to recognize.

"Take, for example, Kimberly, a New Yorker who’s in the film business, and who underwent a sort of crisis when she found herself past thirty and living alone. She threw herself into her work, but at night she numbed herself with epic sessions of TV. “It took me a long time to figure out that it wasn’t gonna happen the way it happened in college,” she tells Klinenberg. “People didn’t just drop by.”

"Things changed when she made the decision to buy an apartment, committing to a future alone. She renovated, began hosting parties, went freelance, tried Internet dating, and made contact with Single Mothers by Choice, a support organization for unattached women hoping to raise a child. Was this self-realization or resignation? Kimberly confesses, “I didn’t want to hang curtains by myself. I’d always thought I would do it with a partner and a lover.” Yet autonomy as an ideal brought her happiness, she says, partly because it freed her from the shame of falling short."

This is a blog about living alone and the pains and various joys thereof.  Therefore, go forth and learn.

Then read this Tumblr, Text from Dog, and pee your pants.

Thanks.

No more p***** pics! (Can I get an A-men?)

This was sent my way today. It's from 2010. Considering how many penis photos have been gifted to me by men from OKCupid in my lifetime (including this winner), I'm amazed I didn't stumble across this myself already. It says everything I've ever said to the screen in response.

Choice quotes:

0:45: "Come on. Enough with the tricky camera angles on that baloney pony. Man, it is UGLY!"

0:57: "And, yes. Sometimes we save the pictures. But just to show our friends how weird yours looks. And make fun of how much of a douchebag you are."

Please share with a loved one. Man or woman, depending on their needs.

(PS: Thanks, MSF.)

Lucky Friday?

Yesterday a colleague who, like me, works in client service for our finance firm incited a lively workplace discussion by suggesting a work pool for the $540 million (and counting) MegaMillions Jackpot:  chip in 1 to 5 dollars apiece and he'll buy as many tickets as he has cash for by 1 p.m. today.

"Regardless if you put in $1 or $5 the winnings will be divided amongst everyone evenly."

This is finance: we're all about return on investment.  One of the Investment Managers naturally replied: "Good idea! However, the line highlighted is a bit troubling for us investment minded folks. Shouldn’t the winnings be proportional to your contribution?"

Client Service: "I figured the investment people would have questions..."

Investment Manager: "Someone has to keep the sales/marketing folks in check!!"

Client Service: "You can trust us Client Service folks, we are known for our GREAT ETHICS!!!"

Compliance Rep: "I thought that was what compliance was here for. :-)"

Operations Rep: "If it was proportional rather than equal would you put more in the pool? If the answer is yes, then go proportional and buy more tickets. If we win, I’ll put together the spreadsheet to divvy it up ;)"

At the end of it all, the pool was my CS colleague's baby, so he kept the (in the words of another colleague) "quasi-socialist" equal-share rule despite the protests of others.  About 25 of us have put in....which means about $27 million pre-tax apiece.  He's getting the tickets this afternoon and will give everyone copies so we can follow the 11 p.m. drawing tonight, ourselves. 

The last couple hours we've been klatching informally about the future of our lives and our firm should the odds fall in our favor....the joke being that if we win, will anyone remain at the firm at all, or will we all put the winnings into accounts that could be managed by each other.

Me?  I might just buy a new car.  And a cabin in the hills of Vermont.  And a condo in Seattle.  And a grand piano and a 'cello and the services of Yo-Yo Ma to teach me to make it sing. And unlimited airfare to Minneapolis from anywhere else in the country so I can see my grandma and play with my nephews more than 3 times a year.  And a guru to meditate with me every morning and lead me through 2 hours of power yoga every night.   And all the Pretty Things Baby Tree Quadruple in stock in Greater Boston, with which I would throw a block party to rival that of the Southie St. Paddy's Day parade.

Crossing fingers, y'all.  Crossing fingers.

Pi Day!

There was a fire last night that cut power to the entire Back Bay (and my workplace until early this morning),  the sky is covered in residual haze from that plus a sheen of blanket fog, I physically don't feel that chipper this morning and I'm most certainly not a math major. 

Thanks, then, to my San Francisco cousin K for making me smile by reminding me that the 14th of March (otherwise known as the day between brother-in-law Chad and Aunt B's birthdays) is Pi Day .... in honor of the mathematical constant 3.141592653 (+ 2 quadrillion more digits).

Or:

π

Or:

(K works at a science museum, The Exploratorium, that is also home to the physicist who coined the Pi Day holiday back in 1988.  She's even featured on the local public radio's story on this year's celebration with some great exposition on what Pi is:  "There's No Such Thing as Too Much Pi."  You should listen.  A band of Exploratorium employees has written a pretty funky song about it.)

Here's some fun facts about Pi Day, lifted verbatim from the Wikipedia page:

*  Pi Day is observed on March 14 because of the date's representation as 3/14 in month/day date format. This representation adheres to the commonly used approximation of 3.14 for π.  What some call "Real Pi Day" will be celebrated on March 14th, 2015 at 9:26:53 AM. These numbers (3/14/15, 9:26:53) correspond with the first 10 digits of pi (3.141592653).

*  On Pi Day 2004, Daniel Tammet recited 2, 964 decimal digits of π.

*  On March 12, 2009, the U.S. House of Representatives passed a non-binding resolution (HRES 224)recognizing March 14, 2009, as National Pi Day.

*  For Pi Day 2010, Google presented a Google Doodle celebrating the holiday, with the word Google laid over images of circles and pi symbols.  (Like so:)

*  There is also a Pi Approximation Day held on July 22 (or 22/7 in day/month date format), since the fraction ²²⁄₇ is a common approximation of π.

Most definitely think that today calls for some pie, too.  Thanks for the reminder, K!

Keyword: Bikini

While I don't get any real jollies (or monetary recompense) for why or how or how many times my blog gets pinged, I was amused today, when perusing stat-checker totals, to see that a Canadian reader found this blog with the search term: Bikini Bones Woman (while acknowledging it ain't the first time the Bikini Challenges of yore have drawn clicks), so I entered the phrase into http://www.google.com/ and, through the first 20 pages of the 5,590,000 results (as of this writing), this blog doesn't yet come up, so I searched the same under http://www.google.ca/ and out of those 5,580,000 results (as of this writing), the same, which begs the question,  what exactly was this guy looking for and how long did he have to scroll through medical links about female pubic bone disorders and photos of swimsuit-clad women bearing skull-and-crossbone flags before he got to me?

You're kidding. Someone else besides me mocks OKC profiles on a blog?

The first thing I saw on Facebook this morning was a status update from Michigan-friend Mike, who can always be counted on to put the driest spin on anything:

"Ah, February 14. The annual ritual that ends the day with me doing my taxes. :D"

I'm feeling slightly less cynical about Valentines this year ... my day started with a west coast text at 5:45 a.m. from MSF as he was getting into the shower. I've also a dinner date later with Student Driver; we were first reticent to make plans on a night we former restaurant workers like to refer to (yes, cynically) as "amateur night." However, she confirms a place she knows that "won't be filled with couples."

I'm not Anti-Couple, BTW.  I'm pro-No Hassles Dining Out Experience On A Major Holiday.

Speaking of SD, yesterday she so helpfully sent me a link to a blog she recently discovered: Inspecting Cupid.  As in:

"This blog is 80% humor, 17% advice, and 6% perspiration. It’s dedicated to translating a person’s OK Cupid profile into what will happen in real life if and when you decide to date said person."

Say no more. I was hooked at the stated concept. I became even more hooked when reading the Jan. 27 post title: "If I Answered the OKC Questions Honestly."  The first paragraph, "his" self-summary:

"I’m a 30-year-old “man” who lives with his parents and has over $150,000 in educational loans from a degree I’ll never use. Thanks in part to my diet and in part my poor genetics, I have horrible, earth-ending flatulence. I oscillate daily between bouts of egotism and self-pity, the former usually resulting from my masterful PS3 skills, the latter from just about everything else I do. I also tell a mean joke, though I do so with this highly affected pseudo-East Coast accent I developed while in college. You’ll get tired of it after 5 dates."

More recently: "Today's OKCupid Profile is Tomorrow's Awful Valentine's Day Date."

"... imagine a world where I am not only in a relationship, but I’m with someone I met off OKCupid. What then? Let’s get inspecting.

The text: [female, 26] (The first thing people usually notice about me) “My lack of coordination.”

The Valentine’s Day Date: You surprise her at home with a bouquet of flowers. So startled by the gesture, she tumbles backwards down the flight of stairs leading up to her apartment and breaks her arm. You spend the rest of the night in the hospital listening to her complain about how shitty Valentine’s Day is."

Whatever you think of the brand of humor, for obvious reasons "his" blog has now been hooked to "My Blog List" (at right) and updates will be appearing regularly.   Let the cross-polllination begin.

And, Happy Valentines Day.

2-day weeks can be hell ....

...as I discovered today. 

Even on a Friday, with the sun shining.

Some work got done.  (I could not in good conscience or in deference to my employers say otherwise in a public forum. :-)  But body and mind generally resisted all attempts to be motivated.  Apples & pb, my (boyfriend) Ben Folds' Pandora channel, strategic Tetris breaks ....  eh.   It could be that I scheduled my weekly long run of 11 miles tonight after work and ain't really feeling it.  It could be that all of my wearable clothes are dirty.  Or that tomorrow, the snow comes ....  and on Sunday, ostensibly, the cold.

It was a godsend, then, that Student Driver showed up in Gmail chat about 5:30, because she saved me from having nothing to blog about with the following:

Student Driver: OMG
Karin: ....
SD: I'm sitting across from this girl at [local coffee shop]
     for hours
     she needed a seat and
     I said she could share my booth
     barely chat
     then, somewhere, towards the end, we start chatting
     and it comes out that I date men, but used to be gay
     and she vice versa
     and she says....
     (you'll love this)
     ( ...)
     I read this great blog by this girl who was gay
     for 10 years and now only dates men
     LMFAO
     so, I reached my hand across the table
     and introduced myself
     then she .... freaked out
     she said that she always thought I lived in NYC
 K: Well, you have a new blog entry, I guess....;)
     Fun stuff.

Even though I have some good deja vu scenarios because of this blog-- my favorite being when a date I didn't hit it off with went on to use his knowledge of my blog to pick up his subsequent OKC date, not to mention that Student Driver and I share unfortunate carnal knowledge of a certain scraggly Somervillian -- I can't stress how unlikely it is that, as one of this city's thousands of bloggers, Student Driver would be sharing a table at a coffee shop, one of this city's bajillion, with a regular, previously unknown reader .... who would know enough about it to bring it up in conversation with anyone, much less the author.

Worth mentioning, methinks.

Dateline 1/26/12: E St & W Broadway, Southie

Morning watch -- 7:22 a.m.:   

In one swoop

confirms

I was asleep last night by 11:30

and

up this morning by 6:40

 and

the #9 bus driver did brake

halfway between G Street and Dorchester

to pick me up

as I sprinted to catch the 7:20

which got me to Copley by 7:37

(because crowds on the 9

and E. Berkeley Street drivers 

don't seem to get going until 7:45,

 I learned)

and in the office

(after a Starbucks stop)

by 7:51,

and

while I know this indeed is not early

for most normal folks

I am not most normal folks,

 and

 I don't think I've been either

in bed by midnight

 or

 in the office before 8

 on any day in the last year

 and,

 well,

 it just seemed worth noting

in case it never happens again.

Bachelor of the Day!

My e-mail account was pinged today by an OKC  'Hi!" courtesy of a 39-y-o man from Baghdad, Iraq: 

Not interested beyond the fact that I wondered who in Iraq was checking me out, I clicked for a peek.  He's a 59% Match (57% Friend).  He works in Computer / Hardware / Software and makes less than $20,000 a year.  He speaks English and Arabic.

He also seems to be, in another life, a 20-something woman from Virginia.

He likes long walks and being a good friend to others and enjoys driving to volunteer in his dad's office a couple times a week.  His peep-toed pumps are among the things he can't live without.  Also:

You should message me if:

- You want a new dental hygienist
- Need a gal to go to a concert with
- Need someone to talk about anything over a bottle of wine and good cheese plate
- Or....someone to potentially be a girlfriend.

Side note:  Don't let my age discourage you. I appreciate men in their 40's and 50's. In fact, some of my best friends are in that age group. Some would say I am old soul at times. Also, I don't mind traveling to NOVA... Gives me an excuse to get out of Richmond. Although, I am willing to host here as well! Lots of goodies here in Richmond.

In addition to the cleavage shot above, according to his profile pictures, he looks like this:

And this:

Incidentally:  between 6:30 p.m. when I first viewed his profile and 8:44 p.m. (now), his residence changed from Iraq to .... Bro, Finland.

Not that I am one to judge how other people productively or unproductively spend their time, but .... what the hell?

Actions speak

Got caught up last night getting my hair cut and going for a run and making banana bread and washing my kitchen floor.  Which kept me up later than I probably should have stayed up.  Which meant I was a tad tired waking up this morning.  Which is not abnormal for me.

What is abnormal is getting to the office, taking off the commuter-girl tennis shoes I wore to bike in with, and zipping up these knee-length black boots

then walking the length of my office to make a cup of coffee and pick up something from the file room before realizing that something felt a bit ... off... then realizing I had zipped the boots onto the wrong legs

In my defense, this is how they look from above, on the wrong feet. 

Not so obvious, no?

Still.  It probably should have been, sooner than I deduced.

Oh, sleep.  You necessary evil.

Celebration of Eleven (and Nigel)

With all due respect to Veterans Day

(and I do respect it and the veterans it honors)

this year's commemoration really does have to include
a shout-out to British mocku-rocker Nigel Tufnel
from the world's loudest band This Is Spınal Tap
and his amplifier that goes to 11.

Luckily, there is a group dedicated solely to that purpose:
The Nigel Tufnel Day Appreciation Society and Quilting Bee in Favor of Declaring & Observing November 11, 2011 as Nigel Tufnel Day (in Recognition of Its Maximum Elevenness),
doing most of the heavy lifting
in memorializing the genius whose seminal work includes
"Tonight I'm Going to Rock You Tonight," "Big Bottom," and "Lick My Love Pump".

Thanks, Nigel,

for always keepin' it real.

Sorry to be lame....

....but after running a marathon,

even though it was a great marathon,

I only have a lame marathon recap in me.  

To wit:

Strength at the start.

(And yeah, I'm not punching 

that dude for his sour expression.)

Gratitude at the finish.
(And no, I'm not calling out
that person for her leopard-print skort.)

Orgasmic-sized jar of peanut butter 

at the finish festival.

(And yes, yes I am fondling it.)

In between, 

I ran a personal record time of

3 hours 53 minutes and 50 seconds.

And saw a whole humongous mess of 

Marines along the way.

Cool.

For the love of Jif

For a mid-morning snack today,

I dug heartily into one o' these:

You can see obviously how tempting it would be to,
after getting the majority of the creamy goodness
out with a spoon,
use an index finger to get the last remnants. 

Which is a dangerous thing,
because I am also absent-minded and
don't always remember to immediately wash my hands
after.

To wit:

Sigh.

Well, I could have had this response:

But instead,

I summoned my Inner Paternal Grandmother
and thought:

It's just clothes.

Peanut butter is always worth the mess.

Meanwhile, 25 years after the fact...

When a pre-teen growing up Cando, I wanted to be Kelly McGillis as Charlie in Top Gun.  Full stop.  I wanted her bomber jacket, her loose white t-shirts over tight jeans, her Oceanside house, her brains, and the chutzpah to say, when Maverick showed up all sweaty and heavy-breathing from his sand volleyball match with the boys, "You're late," and just go back to sauteeing the onions.

Most of all, though, I wanted her hairstyle.  Blond and crunchy-curly.  Swooping over the forehead, and blowing in the breeze as she and her sporty convertible chased after Maverick, zooming away on his motorcycle, to tell him that her review of his flying was spot-on.

This is, in truth, what I looked like in 1986.  I hadn't figured out how to convey my Kelly McGillis Hair desires to Linda, the neighbor down the street who saw me in her basement salon, and still had bangs and bad side-wings.

So check out the girl behind me:  Cathy, fellow leotard wearer and my next-door neighbor in Cando for most of my growing up.  Now a pharmacist in Bismarck, married with 2 kids, she's hung out with me twice this week because she and her husband are in Boston on vacation. (Bless the Lord for Facebook, for reconnecting us.) In addition to overdosing on beer and seafood and late-night forays through Chinatown, it's been a hoot to both revisit a lot of memories of Cando, and to catch up on how we've both changed since the late 1980s. Which is to say, a lot.

Funny, then, that I would look in the mirror this morning and realize that, kinda, sorta, with the part on the opposite side and with slightly-less crunch, I've got the Kelly McGillis In Top Gun Hair Look down -- 25 years after the fact. 

Teenage dreams can come true, my friends.

(Now about that bomber jacket.....)

Laugh. (Because, what else?)

This is how my day started:

1)  Get up extra early for a dentist appointment before work.

2)  Drive (instead of preferred bike) to dentist because of buckets'o'rain falling from the sky.

3)  Encounter standstill traffic (because of the early hour and the buckets'o'rain) to get on 93N, to get on Storrow Drive from 93N, and to get off Storrow Drive.

4)  Pay for meter directly in front of dentist office, due to being 15 minutes late due to standstill traffic.

5)  Apologize profusely to front desk staff for being 15 minutes late.

6)  Discover appointment was actually yesterday.

7)  Apologize profusely to hygienist, reschedule for her next available (November 15).

8)  Hear front desk staff mock (yes! they did!) my profuse apologies as I head out, 2 minutes later, with wet head from previous downpour, to collect car from the meter spot paid for an hour.

9)  Park car in more convenient location, walk 4 blocks to work, only to enjoy the continuing downpour while waiting a full minute to cross the St. James/Clarendon wind tunnel.

10) Sit at desk in air-conditioned comfort with wet legs, wet socks, wet head and potential tooth decay.

Later in the morning (to the great benefit of me and anyone else who was going to have to deal with my brilliant mood today) I came across a humor blog called Happy Place, which had just updated its ongoing list of "Brilliantly Sarcastic Responses to Well-Meaning Signs."  Here are 2 of many:

Which made me do that thing at work we all do, which is wanting to laugh uproariously and realizing there are very few things happening in work life that seriously warrant laughing uproariously .... so I can't, because I would give away the fact that I am looking at something inappropriate .... and then trying to stifle my laughter, which in turn makes me start snorting and gasping and, generally, making worse noise than I would have if just f#$%ing LOL'd.

Man.  That felt good. 

Wanting to share the good vibe and the belly laugh, I e-mailed the link to a friend.  He, in turn, shared a link back, this one to The Oatmeal and more specifically, "What we SHOULD have been taught in our senior year of high school".  Here's one of the panels:

This time, I just LOL'd. 

(Thank you very much.)

(Another) Random Wednesday...

....without much to add to it.

Hopefully that's OK.

It's OK with me, anyway. 

I wanted a place and/or reason to post this video of
Johannes Brahms' Sonatensatz for viola and piano,
here played via cello transcription, which has been driving through my brain lately. 
First played it in college; wish I still could play it and/or had someone to play it with.
Last week it seemed like the
perfect piece which which to await a hurricane.
Indeed, it is pretty perfect, whenever.

Speaking of (with Tropical Storm Katia threatening in the far east),
did you know that Karen (spelled incorrectly as it is)
is one of the only 6 "K" names on the Atlantic hurricane naming convention list?

And, speaking of years, it's this dude's 3rd time to rock today. 

¡Feliz cumpleaños!, popsicle man.

I told you Henry takes after me...

Market basket (o' quotables)

Even if you're weary of reading about it, it's hard to avoid the screaming headlines on the recent stock market gyrations: down 600 points, up 400, down 400 again, up 400 again.  After today's improbable uptick, no surprise that (even the) New York Times compared this week to (the obvious metaphor of) riding a yo-yo.

I myself am seasick here at the OK Finance Corral.  It's the stomach-churn of 2 NFL teams in overtime: one offense driving 80 yards, then missing a field goal; the other driving 40 yards before turning it over; the other team reaching the one-yard line and not converting a third down; and so on.

But the day ended up.  Not complaining about that.  Also, since I don't have much choice but to read things online all day at work, I've come to cherish the rare brilliance of certain bloggers, friends and journalists whose quotes cut through the millions.

My favorites ... because it's an up day:

Nico Muhly, writing today on his eponymous blog:

"I had a crazy thing where I got back from London and immediately flew to Iceland and then flew home, and all the while, this debt ceiling thing has been raging. I got kind of obsessed with it, because it seems like both sides are working with entirely different sets of facts, rather than interpretations of the facts. I have never seen so many people shout at each other, “that’s just not true!” on television before! We are having a problem of definitions. I am normally used to arguments being about interpretation ... "

Joe Nocera, yesterday in his Times column "When the Markets Swoon":

"I know that there are limits to what any government can do to create jobs. But what one yearns for is a little imagination from this White House. Someone suggested to me recently that the government could create a $50 billion fund for small business, and use it to pay, say, 20 percent of the wages of new hires for two years — first come, first served. Why doesn’t Obama suggest something like that?"

Bob Collins, posting on (the severely down) Monday morning, for MPR:

Market Meltdown: Traders Looking Worried
"One question: If the stock market is so all-fire important to everyone, how come news organizations can only figure out one kind of photograph when covering it?"

Albert Einstein, via my friend Thea's Facebook wall today:

"Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity; and I'm not sure about the the universe."

And finally, San Francisco Man, via G-chat last night:

K: Since I've seen you, though, work has also been crazy for me. F***ing politicians....European and American both! The upside is that the drama is kind of adrenalizing.

SFM: Oh dear... financials. Ooogg.

K: My managers and I are jacked, running around, trying to solve problems.

SFM: I've been trying to ignore what's been going on in the stock market et al.

K: Yeah, me too. Today, particularly. The NYT likes to do these big shouting headlines and a minute-by-minute Dow Jones tally. I can't watch it or follow it.

SFM: sensationalism isn't all that sensual.

PS:  I myself am rather chuffed to have thought of

putting all these related/not-related quotes in one handy locale.

Just saying.

Self-Portrait (Redux)

Chaos, all is chaos.

(And this without even getting into the stock market's demise. Yuck.  Don't anyone say "2008" to me.  Ever again.)

A bustling Boston is especially odd for a random Thursday in August before the college students return. I've rarely felt the uncertainty biking city streets the way I did today, both morning commute and crossing downtown just before noon for a doctor's appointment.  It was relentless ...

....day-camp teenagers in matching t-shirts, crossing en masse against lights.

.... a beer-delivery truck double-parked behind a bottled-water delivery truck double-parked behind an MBTA van discharging passengers double-parked behind a UPS truck double-parked behind a ....

.... Duck Boats doing 40 mph down the one-lane cow path known as School Street.

.... tourists, tourists, tourists in packs in pairs on steps on corners in jaywalking mode.

.... if a corner had room for a jackhammer, utility truck and police detail, it had all 3.

.... if a block was solid with cars, it had an ambulance stuck at the back of it.

As I dodged and dodged and dodged, I forced my brain to repeat the mantra, "Be the island of calm in the midst of chaos.  Be the island of calm in the midst of chaos."

Could this be my new Zenness from 8 weeks of BHI class, completed last night?  Might that be why, at my doctor's office, the blood-pressure tech commented on my 90/40 reading with, "Hm, a bit low."

Cool. And weird.

Speaking of, you might recall my Self-Portrait from the start of things;  here is the post-course attempt:

(Let's all agree 1:05 is an improvement....)

So for the record, I DID make more toned legs .... and shoulders and arms. 

Evidently my blood pressure was low enough -- yesterday too -- that I didn't press hard enough with my apricot-colored crayon.

A girl could have worse problems.

Verdict: have more sex

I'm tracking calories these days on weightwatchers.com.  Those of you familiar with Weight Watchers know that certain foods have certain point values -- which can be countered by certain physical activities with certain point values. Sometimes finding these point values involves research.

Today, while doing a Google to see what kind of calories a person can burn playing the piano (this site says 170 an hour), I accidentally typed into the search engine

"How many calories do you burn having sex?"

(Come on. Don't tell me you haven't wondered the same thing. Every time.)

Of course, such a number is going to be a moving target based on body types and types of actual movement, but I get the sense there is no way to calculate a good answer. The only close results seemed to be user-provided-content answer sites ... super reliable as they are. Like this example:

"About 4 and 5 calories per minute, but obviously it varies by how vigorous the sex is!"

I think this one from Yahoo! content was not really meant to be tongue-in-cheek, what with the scientific research seemingly involved:

"... the average person, according to webmd, is only capable of having actual "intercourse" for about ten minutes. Foreplay, for this same individual, usually lasts twenty minutes. So the total calorie burn while having sex should be around 30 minutes, especially if it happens every night. So ten minutes worth of sexual intercourse should burn around 58 calories while twenty minutes of foreplay should burn around 50 calories. So 30 minutes of sex for the average person should burn around 108 calories.

"I decided to find out how many calories I would burn just sitting on the couch so that I could see how many extra calories I would burn by having sex. Sitting on the couch, according to http://www.healthstatus.com/ for the average person burns around 120 calories an hour. So thirty minutes of sitting on the couch would burn 60 calories, while 30 minutes of having sex would burn 108 calories. So the total amount of extra calories I would burn by having sex every day is 48."

(A statement both sobering, depressing, and relieving, if true, considering how much I sit on my couch.)

However, if you really want to get an accurate reading, do visit this site, which breaks it down into extremely specific movements and situations, for example:

By Location (ex. on bar stool = 20; in rear of Honda Civic = 38;)
By Noise (ex. low growling = 8; urgent begging = 22)
By Possible Side Effects (ex. sliding around = 9; whiplash - 27)
By Position (ex. standing, partners equal height = 18; woman 1-foot taller than man = 90)

Among many, many others, many much more graphic.  Read on only if you really want to know.

(And if you do, that's OK. I kind of did.)