Showing posts with label unemployment. Show all posts
Showing posts with label unemployment. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 4, 2003

Aerobics

It was bound to happen eventually.

In New York I spent four months walking a couple of miles each day and navigating seven flights of stairs at NYU's Main Building.

I've spent the last two months sitting on my bum on the computer and on the sofa.

Consequently, a good number of my pants have been benched until a better, more active, day.
It's not that I'm unhappy with how I look. If it weren't for the pants and an unfortunate semi-annual trip to the scale, I probably would never have known. But the inactivity means more to me than a lack of comfy khakis. The problem is that I have the stamina of an 800-pound, seventy-year-old man. I've started doing aerobics in the morning to one of these "Over 40 and Fabulous!" programs on PBS. The damn thing kicks my ass on a routine basis. This cannot pass.

Washington summers are supposed to be nice and humid. Maybe that will be the solution. Until then I'll have to be content with occasional trips to the Metro.

Robyn

Thursday, February 20, 2003

All De Little Critters

I'm sure they have rules against this kind if thing, but I placed some bread out on the balcony during the blizzard and am currently delighted by the birds that have discovered it.

It took a while for them to find it. I don't think they're used to handouts around these parts. Not because people don't care, but because if people were to put bird feeders on their balconies, we'd all be awash in caca. But this one time can't hurt.

Along the same lines, I've found some fine furry programming that helps me while away the job-searching hours. Animal Planet has surpassed VH1 as my favorite time-wasting channel (which speaks volumes about my worldliness and sophistication. Meh). I'm quite taken with Emergency Vets (ER...for animals!) and Animal Precinct (COPS...for animals!). I like That's My Baby as well, but were I to watch it regularly it would amount to two hours a day of watching farm animals and Sea World denizens give birth, and there's something inherently wrong with that.

My favorite show has to be a program that looks as if it wandered away from Brooklyn cable access and found its way into syndication on Fox. It airs Sunday mornings and is called Pet Shop, and features this doofus giving pet advice while surrounded by MORE ANIMALS THAN YOU CAN SHAKE A STICK AT. There's giant bunnies mingling with prairie dogs and parrots and puppies and cats and hamsters and two extremely wound-up chinchillas and ferrets and crows, all sitting on a space the size of an office desk. I don't know what the hell he's talking about half the time. That's not the point. If you do find yourself awake on a Sunday morning, give it a look. You won't be sorry.

Robyn