Sunday, January 16, 2011

Lessons for Everyone



The Professor is going to Saudi Arabia today to teach a few classes at the King Abdullah University.  We’ve been joking around for weeks about what will happen to him.  He never predicted he’d be working in a place where a man can get caned for wearing shorts in front of a woman.  Preparing for the trip went beyond deciding what to pack.  He had to file for a travel visa, and while he may occasionally forget to claim a wad of Cuban cigars stuffed in his pocket, he doesn’t fudge government documents.

“I’m putting down my religion as Jewish,” he informed me.

“That’s good, better to play it safe.”  As if everything about him doesn’t say “Jewish guy from New York.”

Then, as he was digging around for two-ounce plastic travel bottles this morning, he started tossing the good stuff out of his Dopp kit, like the expired Oxycodone he carries for kidney stone attacks.  When I asked why he was worried about a few painkillers, he mumbled something about the kingdom’s Royal Order and hillbilly heroin.  I wonder what the street word is for chardonnay?

Neither of us really worried about the trip but I did do a quick Google search just to check it out.  Wow!

The King Abdullah University of Science and Technology (KAUST), funded with a $10 billion endowment from the king, is central to Saudi Arabia's effort to overhaul its system of higher education and become a global center of collaborative science and technology research. The university is home to "Shaheen" -- the world's 14th fastest computer, a six-sided virtual reality facility, 10 advanced nuclear magnetic resonance spectrometers, a coastal and marine resources laboratory and bioengineering facilities with labs for studying cell molecules for DNA sequencing (not to mention male and female students studying side by side!)

The university, described by the king himself as a new Beyt al-Hekma, or House of Wisdom (referring to the medieval center of learning in Baghdad), will be governed by an independent board of trustees and open to researchers from across the globe. Its charter stipulates leading roles for women and people of diverse nationalities and faiths.

Well, I am resting easy and not just because I got all of the Professor’s discards.  It’s a relief to hear about the positive going on out there.  In the face of last week’s political storm over the shooting in Arizona, I am happy to report that even in the places you least expect it, there is hope and progress.

Friday, January 14, 2011

Warm Winter Welcome


One of the dog owners I talk to at the dog park is a bachelor who lives in one of the oldest houses in Ithaca, I think the first president of Cornell built.  Anyway, though charming and of historical significance, it must be drafty and expensive to heat because the last time I saw him he told me he had ordered some extra thick Snuggly-type things (think sleeping bag with arm and foot holes) for his impending winter houseguests.

I dug my nails into the palm of my hands to keep myself from saying, “You know some decent booze and several really fantastic home-cooked meals might be more appealing.”  But I stopped trying to tell people about the right way to do things after 10 years of marriage, two kids, and a stint in the PTA.  What do I know, anyway?  I went from filling up the house with flowers for welcoming my guests to springing for space heaters.

Keeping warm in the winter here presents all sorts of challenges.  I’ve demoted one of my long cashmere sweaters to housecoat and while it sounds chic and maybe even sexy, I can tell you it’s not, it smells like dog and last week’s tacos.  I remember before we moved here someone saying in passing, “You’ll be fine, you can afford heat.”  I thought it was an odd comment until we received our first heating bill from New York State Gas & Electric:  $700.

You would think I would have been better prepared, having married someone from New York.  His mother used to let me use her “loaner mink” when we visited them in Manhattan.  I remember being afraid someone from PETA would hurt me while I was running the streets of New York City with my new boyfriend.  I confided my fears in a friend who assured me I was not betraying innocent animals and that the only sane choice was to throw the dead rodents on my back and enjoy the snow.

If you have any tips on keeping warm, come visit and share them!  I promise to loan you a cashmere…

Thursday, January 6, 2011

Scrimmage Swimmage



Last night was the first scrimmage for the 5th grade basketball team. They played against Immaculate Conception. They are literally in a different league than we are but the teams get together once or twice a season for “practice.” The private Catholic school has four coaches, has been practicing twice a week and scrimmaging once a week since November. Entire families of their team members showed up to cheer them on and the score was diligently kept. Our public elementary school has three coaches, has met once a week since December and last night was our first scrimmage, with the normal amount of parents that show up for a practice attending.

We lost but not because we were ill prepared. The boys played well and they learned their weak spots. Maybe we lost because the other team was better but some suspect it was because the head coach (my husband) decided to play everyone equally. There were opportunities to play our strength and we could have scored much more than we did but the Professor lives by his principles and he thinks that the goal is to teach these 5th grade boys how to play, not just win.

I once explained this philosophy to an Olympic skier who was lying next to me getting her knee ultra-sounded as I was icing mine at a physical therapy clinic in Park City, Utah. She looked at me and said, “In sports, it’s all about winning.”

I have been mulling that over for a very long time and I am not sure if I had to pick a lifeboat to jump in which one I’d choose. I grew up with a Bad News Bear father and Catholic-school girl mother so I always see both sides to everything. For now I guess I’ll just sit on the sidelines and be thankful the only thing being sunk are baskets.

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

Let's Party



I recently received a friend request from a girl I knew in high school.  After clicking “Accept” I saw the posts on her page.  Our other friend wrote, “I was wondering when you’d show up.”  Many of us haven’t talked (or drank beer) together for a very long time.  But the easy conversation started right back up.  Facebook is like a party that you can cruise into any time you feel like it.

It is a fabulous place for us social creatures.  I love seeing my friends in real life, but it’s not always practical.  And while it’s not as much fun cackling out loud all by myself, it isn’t bad. With much credit to my witty friends from high school, college, career, and my home crew in SD, I am guaranteed to find a laugh or cry, excellent tip or interesting piece of news at any time day or night. 

Partying, whether it’s in person or in the comfort of your bed with a notebook computer in your lap, does not come without drawbacks and disadvantages.

“I never knew that about you!”

“How come I wasn’t invited?”

“Watch it, my mother reads this stuff.”

After living with a man who is not a party creature for many years I can easily spot the difference between animals like me (“Lisa is in the house!”) and the quieter breed (“I don’t like Facebook”).  The people who scare me and always have are the silent stalkers.  In real life they were the ones who leaned (propped themselves?) up against the wall watching everyone from a safe distance.  I was never certain if they were shy, stupid, stoned or all three.  Now, I am shocked when I hear someone spends hours a day on Facebook yet there is not a single post or comment from them.  Are they shy, stupid, stoned or all three?

I also prefer small, intimate parties with people I know really well so I can be 100% myself.  When I am hobnobbing I have to watch my behavior and not say the first thing that comes to mind.  I love FB but I let my friend list get too big.  So, unless I defriend 100 people, I am stuck writing things like what I posted today, “Apparently ‘Hand wash in cold water, line dry’ can be interpreted as ‘Machine abuse in hot water, singe dry’ versus my initial thought which was, “He’s doing the laundry again.  Must be horny.”

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Countdown


Laying in bed in upstate New York, texting with my BFF who was laying in her bed in northern California, we both faced the challenge of losing weight.  It’s not just because of the new year.  She’s always had the body of a dancer, long and lean.  Her reason for wanting to diet is completely virtuous, she just had a baby and is now ready to slim back down.  She is like the White Swan.

I, on the other hand, feel like an out of shape contender for some long-forgotten title. What was it exactly I was training for back in La Jolla???  Being away from southern California and out of my routine has made me sluggish.  Dare I mention the ill-fitting jeans?  If I went up against one of those bitches from home there would be no contest for The Ithaca-ish.  I am like The Fighter.

Me:  On Day #2 of no wine, sugar or flour…I want to lose weight and reset my habits…

BFF:  Am right there with you.  In my case busting out of sweatpants!  :-(

Me:  What are you doing?

BFF:  Daily walks with baby, mommy & me yoga and better eating. That should get me 10 lbs before too long.  Then it’s the harder work!

Me:  I need to shock the system…I plan to go for 10 days.

BFF:  Remember how easy it was in college?

As I thought about our conversation I realized it always seems easier in hindsight.  I wonder if life is like a bell curve?  I can’t possibly become a 98-year-old lady who pours her Ensure drink into the plant when my caretaker isn’t looking, thinking, “It sure as hell was less work when I was 80!”