Here’s a very interesting site, called walkscore.com, that rates the walkability of your neighborhood.
I was initially surprised that my neighborhood is not walk friendly, but then I thought about the fact that I have to walk through parking lots and an industrial district, mainly without sidewalks, in order to get to Safeway. And it makes me feel slightly better about the fact that I hate walking to Safeway in my neighborhood, or Food City, because there aren’t any sidewalks and it makes me very nervous.
Marti and I both long to live in a place where everything is within walking distance. That is one aspect of New York and Boston — and maybe all mega-cities — that I like, that cars are not required. I have long hated driving, I still hate driving, and I do not enjoy driving Ben to school and picking him up every day. It’s 2 miles each way, and again, there aren’t any sidewalks, so I tend to make that short drive. It irritates me, though, because I want to walk it. Without getting run over by a truck.
It’s a curious thing about the U.S., that we never walk anywhere. When I lived in London in college, I really noticed I didn’t have to watch my diet as much as I do here. Walking to the subway, to class, through the city, each and every day — I probably walked more than 6 miles a day, much of it at a very fast pace. I know my roommate and I usually ran the 2 miles to the subway every morning. That kind of exercise really adds up. It’s also very peaceful, at least when you’re not running late. I watched an ivy-covered post slowly turn from green to orange, red and finally brown as the seasons passed, and it was a thing of beauty that I enjoyed watching while walking to and from the subway every day. I still picture it in my mind.
Will we ever embrace this kind of change here? People are so attached to their cars. I once dated a man who called his car his “feet.” I never told him what a turnoff that was for me. But it says something that he paid more for a bumper than Marti paid for his whole car in Japan…and guess who I married.
And now, my friends, I am walking to bed.
(Photo courtesy of lovecircus’ photos on Flickr)
This is another belated post, but for those who care, I had a great Mother’s Day. I only wanted one thing — to be able to sleep in — and that is what I got. Unfortunately, I can hardly sleep past 8:30 a.m. anymore, and all I have to say is that’s just sick, sick sick. I used to be an inveterate sleeper, able to sleep into the early afternoon or even the evening, and considering my constant sleep-deprived state, you’d think I could have done better than 8:30. Next thing you know I’ll be shaving my corns, taking my teeth out and getting into bed at 7 p.m. in order to “get an early start.” Ah, the old age, it is setting in.
Anyway, when I finally gave up and got out of bed (a little after 9), I was greeted with breakfast and presents. Ben made me a lovely present all by himself (well, all by himself in a class of 26 children, 2 teachers, a translator and a teaching assistant). It is a tie-dye picture that he framed, and I have to say he did a really nice job. He somehow managed to make a star — it really looks like a star — which makes him 100% better at tie-dye than me.
Maya gave me a gift card for a massage at Spa One. I’ve never been to Spa One, but I am totally and completely okay with massages. Maya is a very perceptive 2-year-old, to know how I like massages. She already brushes my hair for me, so setting up mani-pedis and scheduling my weekly masseuse is just the next step. I love daughters.
Last but not least, Marti got me this book, called Porn For New Moms:
There are many choice pages in it, but this was my personal favorite:
I hope your Mother’s Day was just as special!
I thought I would go ahead and post some recent pictures on my blog. I keep putting pictures up on social networking sites like Facebook and Orkut, and I forget that the point of this blog was for grandparents and such to get a little insight on the kids’ growth spurts (it is also an outlet for me and my attempts at humor, of course). Anyway, before I post kid pics, I want to put up these pictures. I recently noticed that, in my hurry to take care of everyone else, I haven’t been taking care of myself. Setting up a profile picture was pretty eye-opening, so here’s the before picture, the “with my 8-year-old make-up” picture, and a picture of me with new make-up and a haircut.
A bit scary, really, that a trim and some make-up from this century would make such a difference. I’ve never been one to wear a lot of make-up, but just a little bit here and there does make me look less like a crack addict.
Next are some pics of Maya and Ben. I have a really long birthday post for her, but I’ve been struggling with the video of her Happy Birthday song, so, here it is a week after her second birthday, and there is still no post. *sigh* But, you’ll all be glad in the end, because I’m editing out that part where the camera slipped and all you can see is my chest. Marti swears he didn’t do that on purpose, and I’m sure we all believe him, don’t we? Umm Hmmmm…
You can see Maya giving Ben a “look” in that first picture, like, “Um, sorry? These are mine.” But, they finally play nicely with her Dora train set, and Maya shows off her new necklace in the last photo. That necklace lasted, oh, about 24 hours. Ah well.
Anyway, I should have a full birthday post up soon. Until then, my narcissistic photo ops and kid pics can be enjoyed by all.
Every once in a while, walking around a beautiful park with gardens and native wildlife can really give you insight into another person’s life, or at least how they make the people around them suffer. This happened yesterday at the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum.
We like to go to the Desert Museum because we’re members. This means that, back when gas was affordable, we spent $50 once a year, and then a dollar or two in gas to make the 45-mile round trip drive. Now, of course, we spent two or sometimes even three dollars in gas (I’m rubbing in our gas mileage here). Which seriously cuts into my budget for goofy hats featuring stencils of a roadrunner, let alone the hot pink paper mache hedgehogs.
Anyway, this last visit (yesterday) we ended up walking along with the same group of people for most of the park, and I got to experience some really interesting conversation. Our first stop was to see a docent holding a female Harris’ Hawk.
Docent: (To the crowd) Harris’ Hawks are tropical birds. They’ve slowly migrated north, following the cattle industry.
Me: Really! Why did that bring them north?
Docent: Well, the cattle industry created water sources, and those sources drew small game, which brought the hawks up…
Annoying woman rushes up with a small group: (Interrupting) Oh look, one of those Harris’ Hawks!
Docent: Yes, this is a fem…
Annoying woman: They’re from North Carolina, you know (gesturing to the small crowd gathered).
Docent: No, they aren’t.
Annoying woman: Yes, they are.
Docent: They’re tropical birds.
Annoying woman: Is North Carolina tropical?
Us: Embarrassed, we hurry away to escape the conversation.
Then, at the caves:
I stand quietly watching the water fall into the man-made “cavern” while enjoying the blowing fan of the swamp cooler, cool in the darkness, when the annoying woman with her group walks up with yet another informational conversation.
Annoying woman with her group: Wow. This is amazing! I can’t believe this was just here, right where the park is.
Man in group: It’s not real, Gladys.
Annoying woman possibly named Gladys (AWPNG): Of course it’s real! We’re underground!
Man: We’re not underground. They’ve built a hill over this.
AWPNG: Nonsense! It’s not a hill! It’s more of a hillock. We must be very deep, anyway.
Man: We’re not deep. We’re just under this hill.
AWPNG: (With a note of triumph) How come it’s so cold, then? I mean, it’s got to be 20 degrees cooler than outside. We must be underground!
Man: It could be cooled, you know.
AWPNG: I don’t see any coolers. Do you see any coolers?
Me: I quietly bite my lip to keep from saying anything, and reluctantly depart my spot near the hidden swamp cooler in order to escape the conversation yet again.
Marti and I stand a few minutes later, admiring the gems and minerals at the gem and mineral display, when the woman approaches yet again.
AWPNG: (Very assuredly) This is the gem and mineral display. (Announces to everyone) Gems are minerals that have been polished.
Marti: (Looks horrified)
Marti: (Whispering) She just said gems were minerals that have been polished.
Me: (Whispering back) Yeah, well she claimed these caves were natural, and she’s that woman from the Harris’ Hawk ramada.
Marti: (Still sotto voce) I couldn’t believe she said Harris’ Hawks were from North Carolina.
Me: You know, I always enjoy a nice, smooth asbestos gem myself.
Marti: Wonder what gem this copper piece smooths down to?
We finally leave, chortling quietly, letting the woman go ahead of us this time. Giving a few sympathetic glances to her companions, we stop for lunch, unfortunately ending the entertainment. Her wealth of knowledge came in useful, though.
I’m really enjoying my raw cubic zirconium chain. I might even be able to polish it into a gem someday. 
Occasionally I run across really funny stories in the personal finance blogosphere, and I have to thank Boston Gal’s Open Wallet for posting this video of Stephen Colbert talking about gas prices. Enjoy!
