The Few, The Proud, The Moistened

Have I mentioned the heat lately? In case I haven't, it's hot here.

I exercise after I drop one or both kids off in the morning. I can usually get midway through a run before the sun gets really strong. When the sun does decide it wants to make an effort, one knows instantly. I'm running, the weather is pleasant, I'm settling into a groove, then BAM, on the very next step, the temperature rises as astonishing 3000 degrees and running just doesn't seem so enjoyable anymore.

By the end of my run, I'm leaving a wet trail of sweat and other fluids on the ground as I gasp desperately for water.

Because I'd like to feel good after finishing a workout instead of feeling melted, I have been looking for alternative exercise.

Indoors is OK, but running on a treadmill is boring, particularly in the morning when nothing's on TV. Swimming is much more preferable. I get my heart rate up, I get upper body exercise and the water keeps me cool as the day's heat builds. In the summer, it is by far the superior form of exercise.

This morning I arrived at the pool to find it empty. That's not unusual, so I started stretching and getting ready for my laps. That's when the lifeguard approached.

"Hello," said the lifeguard, "We have a group of Marines coming in for PT today. Do you think you might limit yourself to this lane?"

Living on a military base, I've gotten used to yielding right of way for our troops. "No problem," I said.

As I was swimming, I heard the cadence approaching. It became immediately apparent why the Marines needed most of the pool. There were about thirty of them, and they all had to exercise at the same time. On command, they all jumped into the water (with steel-toed boots on) and treaded water for 10 minutes or so. Then they swam the width of the pool under water, right under the lane in which I was swimming. Then they did pull ups out of the pool, again in unison upon command. Then it was time for laps.

All in all, it was rather intimidating. They looked pretty tired. I was all set to slink away to my civilian life when it happened.

The commander lined them all up, and, on command, each United States Marine took a turn down the water slide. As each pair of steel-toed boots hit the water, I had trouble suppressing my smile. The Marines no longer seemed quite so intimidating.

Coping, Part 6

I like Cash Cab.

At first, I watched for the novelty of a game show set in a New York City taxi.

Then I watched to laugh at the stupid people. The most recent question during a "red light challenge" was to name five of the six flags that have flown over Texas. The party got four, then got desperate, naming Venezuela, Colombia, Switzerland and Israel(!). I thought the attempt to guess a country that didn't exist prior to 1948 was particularly desperate.

At that very moment, rolling my eyes at the screen, I realized I wasn't watching this show for the stupid guess answers. My attention was focused on the windows of the cab, looking at the buildings going by.

Yes, I was watching Cash Cab to catch glimpses of New York. As it turns out, the show is particularly good for this. They drive by 6th and 12th all the time. I catch Ray's and Murray's out the window of the cab, screaming "Hey, I lived there!"

For those that care, the little map that flashes on the screen when the Cash Cab picks up a fare is usually way, way off.

So, I'm correcting game shows and playing "spot the continuity error." My pathetic waste of time serves to show how much I miss New York. My attempts to reconnect have become as desperate as guessing that the Israeli flag has flown over Texas.

I like Cash Cab, but only in small doses, and I watch long enough to catch a glimpse of a corner that I know. Otherwise the game is completely unrealistic. Here are some ways I would improve its realism:

There should be a "hold your breath challenge." Especially in the summer, the cherry air fresheners really don't cut the scent of thirty-six hour shifts.

There should be bonus money every time the cabbie risks your life to get through a yellow light. This would probably break the show's budget.

Anyone who rides in the cab (usually the back seat) and can't contribute one answer to the group's benefit shouldn't get a share of the winnings. New York is a tough place, the show should reflect that.

These suggestions would make the show that much more pleasant and give me a healthier New York fix. I'll write the Discovery Channel immediately.

BTW, the six flags were Spain, France, Mexico, Texas, U.S. and The Confederacy.

Feelin Hot Hot Hot

I knew Phoenix was going to be hot. That's really the only thing I knew about this place before arriving here. "I'm moving to Phoenix," I'd say to people. "It's hot there you know," they'd reply.

Yes, I know. I also know that it's a dry heat. If you've never experienced dry heat, allow me to tell you: hot is hot. Humidity doesn’t make a lick of difference.

The temperature will reach 115 degrees today. The low will be in the 90s. That's right. The temperature will not be below 100 until after midnight, if it ever really does drop below 100.

Honestly, though, after a while you stop noticing the heat. Outside in the sun, your sweat tends to dry up instantly. It can actually be quite dangerous, because you don't realize how hot you are until you dry up and blow away. Many peoples' last words are "when was the last time I hydrated?"

Unless your exercise consists of swimming laps or volunteering for a dunk tank (it's aerobic!), outside exercise in the summer needs to be completed by seven a.m., that is, unless you would like to leave a charred corpse.

The Doctor and I and the kids stay inside a lot. I seem to be the only person on the block who walks to the mailbox on the corner to get the mail. I wish there weren't so many charred corpses along the way.

Early to Bed...

Parenting is full of trade-offs. Yes, dear daughter, you may have ice cream, but only if you finish your half Brussel Sprout. You may watch Princess (again, groan), if you go potty first. You may have lunch or nap but "Daddy go away" is not an option. These trades are all easy because these trades are all choices presented to the children. There is at least one trade that is a matter for the parents: the trade between eating dinner with the kids or without.

Bedtime routines are comforting to young children. Having an ordered progression of steps that leads to sleep gives toddlers a sense of order to their lives, or something. One adds or subtracts steps in this progression at one's peril, as the toddler's entire psychology depends on repetition of these steps, every night. For instance, my daughter has been known to burst into tears because she forgot to brush her tongue earlier in the evening. At this point in her life, my daughter's bedtime routine is about the length of a NASA pre-flight checklist.

So the Doctor and I base our decision to put the kids to bed before we eat on whether we think we might be hungry enough to eat the kids before they fall asleep. Once the kids are asleep, dinner may be enjoyed in a relaxing, adult environment. After prep and cooking time, this is usually 10 pm, 11 pm at the latest.

The alternative to late, adult dinner is to eat with the kids, which presents its own problems. Will our kids like what we are eating? Will they let us cook? Does one child want to eat while sitting on someone's lap tonight? Despite the mathematical impossibility, will the family be wearing more food than was prepared?

But the real benefit is that with dinner over and the kids in bed, the night is still young. The Doctor and I have the entire evening to ourselves.

Which is why I'm going to bed at 8:45 tonight. Yay, sleep!

Q and A

I accept the fact that certain things are unknowable.

Is light a particle or a wave? Was there a conspiracy to shoot JFK? Will anyone ever prove the Goldbach Conjecture? Did peanut butter get in the chocolate or did chocolate get in the peanut butter?

There is a universal, weighty importance to all of these questions, insofar as they all require a fundamental understanding of the nature of the universe in order to be fully answered, with the possible exception of the one about the Goldbach Conjecture. That one’s just silly.

I never thought that observing one’s own family would generate so many more ultimately unanswerable questions.

To wit:

If my daughter wanted to color so badly, why is she dropping all the crayons on the floor?

Why is my son removing his own pacifier and then crying about it?

How is it possible my daughter gets a higher score on the Wii step aerobics than the Doctor?

Is my son fussing because he’s awake or awake because he’s fussing?

Is there a food that ketchup cannot improve? Subquestion: can ketchup improve the flavor of ketchup?

Should we install snake-safety measures on our toilets?

Why is my daughter naked, except for the socks on her hands?

I am certain there is a weighty, universal importance inherent in the answers to these questions. It has thus far eluded me.