Friday, August 25, 2017

#442 Say What?!

As a 6 foot 6 female, I hear all kinds of comments on a daily basis.  Well, maybe not every day, but most every day.  I am so used to hearing comments, they usually don’t bother me anymore.  When I’m walking with someone for the first time, they are amazed at what people say to me.  They get angry instead of me.  I had several comments this past weekend so I thought I’d see how many I could remember from my lifetime.   

How tall are you?  The most common.  Does it matter?  I’m still a lot taller than you.  Do you really need a comparison?  People have no concept of height.  I’ve been asked if I was 7 feet tall on several occasions.  Seriously?  Most of the time I say 6’6”.  If I’m feeling playful, I’ll puzzle them with 5’18”. 

You’re tall.  This comes in a close second with the above.  It’s like people have no idea what to say and instead of listening to the adage “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything.” they just blurt out the obvious.  I want to say, “No s#%*, Sherlock.”  I usually smile and say, “Really?”

Do you play basketball?  Yes, a lot of tall people play basketball, so maybe a good question.  Maybe.  Still, unnecessary.  I also played volleyball.  When I lived in Seattle someone asked me if I was a rower.  First (and last) time anyone asked me that.  When I worked with the Women’s College Works Series I was asked if I was a pitcher.  My answers depends on my mood.  I have several, and I keep it brief.  Yes.  No.  Sometimes I’ll get a wild hair and tell them I was a gymnast.  One response I can never bring myself to say is, “Do you play miniature golf?” 

How’s the weather up there?  I don’t recall anyone asking me this.  I wanted to include it because I have heard the story of someone being asked that question and answering, “It’s raining.” and then they spit on them.  I could never do that!  That’s just gross.  And worse than someone asking that question. 

How tall is your husband?  I don’t like this question mainly because I don’t have a husband.  I would love to say he’s 6’10” or even 7 feet.  I have a guy friend who is 5’5” and we have pretended to be a couple just to make people laugh. 

How tall are your children?  I don’t have kids.  Next. 

Sir.  Once-in-a-while people think I’m a man.  It’s mostly cashiers.  They are busy scanning items and don’t look up when they greet me, just see a tall figure and say, “How are you today, sir?”  They quickly realize I’m a woman and apologize.  This doesn’t bother me; it’s mainly funny.  The best was when I went to a local native American museum with my mom.  I wore my hair down and was wearing a jean jacket.  As my mom paid for the tickets, the person asked her, “Is he a student?”  He?  I do have a dark complexion.  Did she think I was native American dude?  Strange. 

When I dream, I’m as tall as you.  A woman said this to me last weekend at a farmer’s market.  She was in her 60s and around 5’5”.  I had no idea what to say, so responded with, “In my dreams, I can fly.” 

That is the tallest woman in the world!  People make comments and don’t realize I can hear them.  I was at the grocery store the other day and I heard one of the employees talking to a co-worker.  After that first remark, he added, “I’m 6’3” and she’s way taller than me!”  Yes, I’m taller than you, but not by that much.  For the record, one of the tallest women in the world did live in Indianapolis in an apartment complex not far from where I grew up.  Sandy Allen was 7’ 7” and her height was due to a tumor in her pituitary gland that caused it to release growth hormone uncontrollably.  She died at age 53. 

Can I ask you a question?  This is usually followed by “How tall are you?”  When I hear this, I am tempted to say, “You just did.”  Sometimes I give my height before they ask the second question.  Keep it moving, people.  Nothing to see here. 

Besides comments, there are a couple phenomenon.  One is the walk-by.  This happens when I’m standing in a crowd or in line, minding my own business, when I notice a man walk by me out of the corner of my eye.  When he gets behind me, he slows down and looks at his friends to see how he measures up.  I am good at spotting the walk-by.  I love to make eye contact, letting them know I caught them red-handed.  At least they didn’t ask a question or make a rude comment.  But do you think I can’t see you skulking around behind me?  Geez. 

The other is immediately looking at my feet to see how high my heels are.  Because a woman my height must be wearing heels, right?  Nope.  In college I attended some fraternity band parties.  Initially I got excited because I saw several tall guys in the crowd, but when I looked closer, they were standing on coolers to see the band.  Of course, others thought I was standing on a cooler.  It’s all me. 

I realize I am an “oddity.”  Most people are curious and don’t mean any harm.  I will admit when I see a woman close to my height, I look at her in amazement and think, “Is that what I look like?  I AM really tall!”  Because I don’t feel tall in my own body.  (Until I knock my head on something.)  And then my friends give ME a hard time for doing the exact thing I complain about.  But I make a point not to stare (too much) and I certainly don’t say anything to them.  Often, we exchange an understanding smile as we pass each other. 

I would love for people to be mindful of what they are saying and who can hear them.  This is for everyone’s benefit – those who are excessively short, in a wheelchair or have some other physical difference.  Don’t stare.  If you can’t help yourself, don’t say anything out loud until you know for sure you are out of range.  Treat them like just any other person.  They deserve it.

Oh, and the weather up here?  It’s just fine.  


P.S.  – This past Sunday at the grocery store (why is it always at the grocery store?) a woman approached me as I stood in the checkout line.  “How tall are you?”  After I answered, she said, “My daughter wants to be 7 feet.”  Wow.  That’s a pretty lofty goal.  Her daughter was hiding in one of the other checkout lines.  She’s 12.  I told the mom about doubling a child’s height when they’re two and that usually will be their full-size height.  She shook her head, like, “She’s not going to make it.”  She looked to be about 5’7” and she said her husband is 6’3”.  Hey – who knows?  My dad is 6’1” and my mom is 5’9”.  Anyway, it was pretty funny, especially since I had just written a post about this subject.  

Friday, August 18, 2017

#441 Arsenic and Flying Cupcakes

For the past year or so, I have waged an ongoing battle with sugar.  I feel like I constantly think, or even say out loud, “I’m trying to limit my sugar.”  The usual response I get is, “You don’t have to worry about that.”  As in, you don’t have to worry about gaining weight. 

As someone who has struggled to gain weight all my life, it’s not about the weight.  I could eat junk food 24/7 and not gain any weight.  My struggle is that I know excessive sugar bad for me. 

I’ve heard that cancer feeds on sugar, but found it to be a myth.  However, there is evidence that consuming large amounts of sugar is associated with an increased risk of certain cancers.  Eating a lot of sugar can also lead to weight gain and increase the risk of obesity and diabetes, which may increase the risk of cancer. 

The American Heart Association recommends limiting your sugar intake to six teaspoons a day (100 calories) for women, and nine teaspoons a day (150 calories) for men.  As a reference, a 12-ounce can of regular soda has eight teaspoons of sugar, which is 130 calories. 

I don’t drink soda, but I do love sweets.  I grew up in a house where we always had dessert after dinner.  My dad (and his mother) loved to bake, so it was pie, cake, cookies and other treats.  All homemade, but still sugar.  And then there’s chocolate.  I try to limit those things, but sugar is everywhere!  It’s in pasta sauce, salad dressing (I now make my own), bread and cereal to name a few. 

The other reason I want to avoid sugar is that it ages you.  Sugar makes your insulin levels spike, which leads to an increase of inflammation in your body.  That in turn produces enzymes that break down collagen and elastin, resulting in sagging skin and wrinkles. 

I am realistic about wrinkles.  I have them.  I will get more.  But I don’t want to speed up the process.  I have been using facial moisturizer with sunscreen for years.  Now if I can just get a handle on the sugar.

Last week I enjoyed one of my favorite summer activities – the Indiana State Fair.  I’m not into all the fair food, but love the Dairy Bar and decided to get a chocolate shake.  It was huge.  As I ate it I thought, “I should only eat half.”  I ate the whole thing.  And felt bloated and guilty afterward. 

Last weekend I enjoyed another one of my favorite summer activities – a movie on the lawn at the Indianapolis Museum of Art.  It was Arsenic and Old Lace with Cary Grant.  Each person in my group brought food for a picnic before the movie began at dusk.  Julie brought cupcakes from the The Flying Cupcake.  They are huge with about 1” of icing on top.  As I picked mine, I thought, “I should only eat half.”  Again, I ate the whole thing.  I did leave a about half the icing on my plate (my reasoning:  most of the sugar is in the icing).  Thankfully, I didn’t feel ill that time, just slightly guilty. 

After the movie, I thought more about my sugar struggle.  I do well for a while, then fall off the wagon.  What would help me stay on?  I need to remind myself that in essence, sugar is poison.  And since the movie was fresh on my mind, I likened it to arsenic.  Every time I have a choice to eat the sweet thing or not, I need to remind myself that sugar is poison.  Extreme, but it might help. 

I know that moderation is the key to most everything.  And unlike arsenic, sugar won’t actually kill me and I won’t end up buried in a cellar with 13 other bodies (you need to watch the movie).  We’ll all die of something anyway, right?  Pick your poison.  

Friday, August 4, 2017

#440 Make Magic! Do Good!

This past July marked my fifth year volunteering for a week at The Hole In The Wall Gang Camp (see Post Nos. 351, 382, 405 and 428). 

This summer’s theme was Make Magic!  Do Good!  Camp is a magical place for these kids (and us adults too) and it does everyone good to get their yearly camp fix. 

I was assigned once again to a boy’s cabin.  Yee haw!  (My week’s theme was Wild West so that fits).  And again, they were in the 10-11-year-old age range. 

During Volley-O (volunteer orientation) they talked more about us helping to facilitate the campers making friends.  Sometimes we counselors get caught up in making a connection with a kid and don’t think about guiding them to make friends with others.  Hillary, the camp director, read a letter from a mom whose son had just finished his second year at camp.  Her son was not good at making friends and only had one friend at home.  Last year she arrived to pick him up from camp and he was happily playing with a counselor.  Which was great - he enjoyed his week at camp.  As he prepared to go to camp this summer he told her many times, “I’m not going to make any friends.”  What happened when she picked him up this year?  He was happily playing with another camper and was excited to introduce her to his “new best friend.”  We all got teary.  As Hillary said, we may not see much progress in that first week of camp, or even the second, but we are laying the foundation for progress in the future. 

One of my campers made this in woodshop.  

The song lyric was right in line for friend-making!  
I rebounded from my worst night sleeping in a cabin last year, to a great night in a girl’s cabin this year.  Not a peep from anyone and I actually did sleep. 

My co-volunteer counselors this year were Jimmy (who happened to be the camp CEO – no pressure there!) and Taylor.  My full-time counselors were Dante and Clay, and Bryan (“Coach”) and another Taylor (female).  They were all amazing and so great to work with.  I did see my two full-time counselors from last year – Cam and Will.  And I met Will’s dad, Bill, who was in Will’s cabin this year.  I was jealous of Bill – he lives close enough to drive and brought his bicycle to ride on his time off. 

Speaking of time off, this year I didn’t have any compelling place to go, like Mystic, CT, the Stamford, CT cemetery to visit Gilda Radner or Newport, RI and the International Tennis Hall of Fame.  Where to go, where to go…  I settled on Stonington, CT.  I read an online article on the best small towns in New England and Stonington was close by.  Actually, not far from Mystic.  I borrowed Jimmy’s car (again, no pressure with the CEO’s car!) and set off on a beautifully sunny morning.  The clincher with this town was the name.  Last year I spent a day in lovely Stonington, Maine so decided I would see how this town compared. 

duBois Beach
Stonington is lovely and historic, serving as the spot where the town defended the Royal British Navy during the Battle of 1812.  I wandered down Water Street until I came to duBois Beach.  From that vantage, you can see Long Island, NY to the right and Rhode Island to the left.  I sat and looked out to the sea for a bit.  So nice!  I browsed some shops on my walk back to the car and found a cute pair of flowy pants in Indigo Bleu.  Had lunch at Breakwater – a cod BLT.  I very much enjoyed my lunch and view. 

View from Breakwater
 Back at camp, I finished out the week with the fun boys.  They played lots of Monopoly Deal (I tried, but couldn’t quite catch on).  I joined in with some games of Spoons and War.  One of the boys learned how to throw a playing card.  It went far!  I tried but couldn’t quite get that either.  We played Silent Ball, and a new one for me – Silent Football (Mr. Commissioner Sir).  I also learned Dragon.  Too much to explain here, but fun.  For once my cabin didn’t play Mafia. 

I saw one girl from my yellow cabin from 2015.  She was part of the Hero’s Journey, which is a week-long wilderness adventure for those who have aged out of camp.  The Hero’s Journey kids came to the dining hall on the last day and I was so excited to see her.  I was also excited that I remembered her name.  She remembered me too.  It’s moments like this that keep me coming back to camp. 

Another successful week at camp, and I achieved my “Five Year Tote Bag!  Ahhhh.”  Yes, I could buy one at the gift shop, but where is the accomplishment in that?  Next up, the “Ten Year Blanket.” 


I tried my best to facilitate friendships this week.  Instead of me playing a game with just one camper, I’d make a point to include others to join in, or even get them to play a game together.  They seemed to get along well and I hope their new friendships carry on after camp.  I know I carry the love of camp and all of their smiling faces with me all year long.  

One of the volunteers watching the campers play in cabin circle