Fit for 50 (with Darrell Green)

Fit for 50 with Darrell Green ─ now there's a headline you probably never expected to see from me! Indeed, I didn't even know from Darrell Green until last month. Dare to talk football around me and I'll ask, "Is that the game with the pointy ball or the little round one?" Guaranteed crowd-groaner.

These days, I know about Darrell Green.

I signed up for the online fitness program Fitfor50 last month, never expecting to be charmed by the wit and humor of Darrell Green. Nor did I expect to eventually be tapped to write content for the program's Playbook. Talk about motivators ─ kind of difficult to ignore tips for health and fitness if I write them.*

So now I flip out if I don't wear my pedometer from the moment I hop out of bed each morning. This commitment presents technical difficulties some days, if you catch my drift.

I added brown basmati rice ─ I'm such an overachiever ─ to my list of preferred grains after learning about counting grams of fiber.

In the past two weeks, I've made it down ─ often walking ─ 10 flights of stairs to my building's fitness center to workout. I don't do this every day, but a lot more since starting Fitfor50.

Before eating my BMI in lox at Yom Kippur's break-the-fast, I'd lost two pounds.

Before this program ends, I'm hoping to be in the groove of exercise, looking buff and eating smarter. I'm also hoping this gig includes meeting Darrell Green. I'm sure he'd have a snappy riposte to my line about the pointy ball.

Note: It's Day 13 of Fitfor50, but you can start this adventure any time by going to Inova Health System's Fitfor50 site. You don't have to be age 50!

* No, I am not being paid to write a post about this program. Heck, it doesn't even count as billable time. Furthermore, no boss-of-me at Inova has read this in advance, proving that I am either very smart or very stupid but have integrity.

JOTTing right along...

Using voice activation technology, JOTT transforms spoken content into emails and text messages, will generate a list and organize appointments. It's free and does indeed "get simple back" as promised by the company's tag line. I've been using Jott for several weeks and love its convenience and ease-of-use.

But I did not anticipate how getting email from me to me would tap into memories of years in the personal growth and self-discovery industry. Specifically, I've been reminded of the quasi-spiritual practice that involved writing affirming love letters -- to self.

This exercise was usually assigned to participants of self-esteem programs -- after they'd learned the difference between kombu and wakame as well as negative and positive self-talk. The handwritten letter was supposed to be from Self to self. It was usually composed in a mediative state induced by the scent of Nag Champa and the taped sounds of distant wind chimes and pan-flutes.

At the end of the session, letters would be stamped with reverence and sent on a journey through the U.S. postal system. As a result, they'd arrive long after participants had returned to their esteem-depleting and soul-sucking lives. Theoretically, receiving a letter from Self would remind recipients of lessons learned, at least more tenderly than the retreat center's Visa charges. I both wrote and, as a program assistant, handed out hankies and postage for these things.

My last such letter was written and posted on November 15, 1995 while I was working my way through The Artist's Way. I found it tucked in my well worn copy of that book. (Looks like first class postage was once 32 cents.) And having reread the thing, I see that many of my hopes and dreams have come to pass. Very affirming. Thanks be to God.

So now it's the 21st century and I spend most of my time online. I use Jott. Get where I'm going with this?

Do 1099-ers Have Snow Days?

Snow day!!!
Wait.
I work from a home office. What's the big whoop?

Like just about every other day at this time, I'm in my pajamas. My driveway may not be plowed, but I've already plowed through a virtual pile of email and read through my favorite blogs. My "To Do" list of billable work is in my face.

I'm listening to Mozart because, yes, it really does enhance productivity and don't try to tell me it doesn't. I'm typing with one cat on my lap, another peering out the window, and the third one wandering around in search of some place carpeted to hack up a hairball. I'm worrying about how and when I'll get over to Ruth's. So how is today different from all other days?

It isn't. But it is. The day is soft, quiet, and dim with still-falling snow, which feels like grace. I find grace more believable than magic. Psalm 118:24 and all that.

My Funny Valentine. Not.

I've been going to the same tax accountant since 1980, but our St. Valentine's Day get-together began only a mere decade ago. I may have to rethink this for next year, although given my history, I suppose there's no better day to be asked "any alimony?"

"I barely got any at the time and certainly haven't for nine years, so quit asking," I said this morning.

"I have to ask," he said.

Oh, really?

Isn't it humiliating enough to be asked, after handing over the 1099-Misc forms, "Any other income? Any royalties?"

Purple Madonna

This gem arrived in this morning's email from one of my whimsical and super-literate friends who always finds great stuff while wandering the world wide web. Here's the Story of the Day at Story People:

Purple Madonna

One time on Hollywood Boulevard I saw a young girl with a baby. It was a crisp winter morning & her hair shown dark purple in the sun. She was panhandling outside the Holiday Inn & the door clerk came out & told her to be on her way & I wondered if anyone would recognize the Christ child if they happened to meet. I remember thinking it's not like there are published pictures & purple seemed like a good color for a Madonna so I gave her a dollar just in case.