Tag Archives: question of the day

Like Romeo and Juliet

Recently, I got into a semi-serious, almost-contentious, funny, sciency, hopeful, heartfelt discussion about – of all things – the possibility of love at first sight. It was just the kind of free-wheeling, high-spirited, we-are-not-solving-the-world’s-problems type of conversation I’m prone to, sometimes hilarious and other times poignant, and it made me wonder what you all think.

Do you believe in love at first sight? Love at first words? Love at first blog post? (Never mind, you don’t have to answer that… but let the record show that I DO believe in that… instant bloggy love.)

How about soul mates? Do you think we each have one?

I really am eager to hear your thoughts. I’ll share mine too, down in the comment bowels.

http://kindovermatter.blogspot.com/2010/10/your-life-will-never-be-same-again.html

Gettin’ Naked

Last week in a post that was not at all about getting naked, I did offhandedly mention the possibility of public nudity, and a few of you lovelies took the time to inform me (on and off blog) that you would never get naked on a nude beach, which of course got me thinking about all of you naked on the beach. Consequently, I’ve gotten nothing done for four days! In my imagination, I am ordering you all to get your clothes back on and let me get back to contemplating important bloggable subjects like …

Public nudity.

What can I say? You have me distracted.

I’ve been wondering who DOES get naked at the beach? Except for one brave friend who assured me that public nudity under the right circumstances is no big deal, everyone I’ve talked to says they’ve never done it and never will. Even the amazing, fearless, face-life-head-on-and-don’t-blink Ash of The Middle Finger Project was not quite able to opt out of her clothes when she found herself sunning at a clothing optional beach.

I was surprised when I read that. I mean, if not Ash, then who?

I’ve been to a clothing optional beach twice, both times accidentally. Both times I kept my clothes on. The first time, I was in my twenties and had no idea that I would one day long to look just exactly as “ugly” as I believed I looked then. The second time it was freezing. In my jeans and sweatshirt, I was only passing through, hell-bent on getting a shot of the Golden Gate Bridge as the fog rolled in. The two guys that grinned at me as I raced past were butt naked and friendly. And cold… or so it seemed to me.

So now, I’m wondering who does get naked in public? Who are the brave souls so wonderfully comfortable in their skin that they’re willing to show all of it? Have you ever gotten naked on a nude beach? Would you?

Note: Lest you all think I’m a complete prude, I did go skinny dipping in a lake for the first time ever last summer. It’s true. I even took off my cape.

The MoneyShot

Ponderin’

It’s been a while since I did a question of the day. So here are three for you to ponder. And, of course, I would love to hear your answers to any or all of them. Let’s play!

  1. Would you rather be a worried genius or a joyous simpleton?
  2. If you had to move to a new state or country, where would you move?
  3. Would you rather lose all your old memories or never be able to make new ones?

Your turn. I LOVE to hear your thoughts.

Helping J

I’ve decided that for the month of January, Mondays are going to be the day I ask you for your opinions and advice. I know. I’m always asking you for your opinions and advice, but these posts will be different. They’ll be real-time. You’ll be helping me with real-time, immediately pressing j-problems.

You’re my Dear Abby! Oh, c’mon, don’t look so nervous. We’ll start off easy.

Today’s question is about movies. My Blockbuster movie queue has six movies in it. They were all recommended to me when I tweeted this plea: “Help! My queue is empty. I need movie recommendations and I need them now!” People were awesome. I’ve never seen any of the movies in my queue, and I’m looking forward to them, but still, there are only six, and one of them, Benny and Joon, is on its way, which leaves only five. Here are the others: Imitation of Life, Smart People, Judy Berlin, The Hurt Locker and Moon.

So now, it’s your turn. Fill up my queue. What movie(s) would you recommend? Obscurity is welcome. As are quotes. And hyperbole.

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And now for something completely different… I have been meaning to post this since way back in August when she first sent it to me. Our very own Estrella Azul made a video of her kitty’s “grand entrance” back when I was beckoning the lovely. It’s adorable; watch it!

But wait, there’s more. I visited Jane Bretl’s blog, Jane Candid, and her post, “Peace On Earth” melted my heart. Warning, super cuteness overload! (But go look because it’ll make you smile.)

Please don’t howl at the waitstaff.

I have a question. In  a restaurant, which thing is most important to you: food, service or ambiance? Let’s say, for the sake of j-science, that you can’t have all three. You can only have one, or maybe two. What would you be willing to sacrifice and still eat out?

I’m asking because on Wednesday, I went to Half Moon Bay with my friend, Jay. He’s a foodie. He wasn’t there for the sand and the waves, he wanted to visit a couple of restaurants, which we did. They were not spectacular. They did not have pretty ocean views or cool artwork or decent lighting or chairs. (Just kidding. They had lights.) Turns out they didn’t have great food either, but we didn’t know that when we decided to order something in each place.

Afterward, I was thinking about how, for Jay, it’s all about the food. But for me, it’s all about the ambiance, and maybe the service because crappy service can really screw with the whole ambiance thing. So I have been asking people the question in my exhaustive, j-sciencey, don’t-I-look-official-in-this-lab-coat way. I assumed everyone would say the food matters most because that answer actually makes the most sense to me, but not everyone has and so now, I’m curious. Tell me what you think.

In the meantime, here’s some stuff that made me smile this week…

This sign was in one of the restaurants we went to.

This sign was in one of the restaurants we went to.

This was in the other.

This was in the other.

I had lunch with one of my favorite people on Thursday and she gave me this little notebook. I love it, and I love that she knew I would. Big smile.

And on Thursday, I met up with one of my favorite people in the world. She gave me this little notebook. It'll fit in my pocket. I love it, and I love that she knew I would. Big, big smile.

That other afternoon delight…

I think I should take naps. I stopped taking them when I was six and, frankly, things have been a little crazy ever since.

The benefits of napping are numerous. First of all, it’s what our bodies want. You’re not imagining that urge to sleep in the afternoon; it’s real. In a 24-hour period, our bodies experience two distinct dips in alertness, one at about 2:00 am and another at about 2:00 pm. Studies show that surrendering to the sleepy (at least for a short nap) would actually increase our awareness and boost our performance. Secondly, for the chronically sleep deprived (which is everyone I know), naps have the same positive effects as nighttime sleep – improved learning, alertness and productivity.

Plus, naps are cool. The list of well known nappers is impressive: Winston Churchill, Napoleon Bonaparte, Albert Einstein, Leonardo Da Vinci and John F. Kennedy, to name a few. My friends who nap all seem very Zen and confident. “I just took a nap,” they say, those bright-eyed slackers, and I marvel at the utter lack of apology in their voices. I want to join their club.

But I can’t. One of two things happens whenever I try to nap. Either I fall asleep instantly and sleep right through whatever alarm I’ve set to make sure I get up in twenty minutes, or I’m so nervous about doing that that I don’t sleep at all. The instant I begin to drift I awake with a start, staring at the clock, certain that hours have passed, when in fact, it’s only been a minute or two. It is, for me, the opposite of restful. It makes me cranky (which, ironically, used to be the sign that I needed a nap).

So the question of the day is… Do you nap?

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And now for something completely different… The name and tag line say it all: Cake Wrecks, When professional cakes go horribly, hilariously wrong.

What takes you back?

The other day, in the grocery store, I heard the Peaches and Herb song, Reunited. I am not crazy about that song, but there was a time (I am somewhat reluctant to admit) when I was. I used to listen to the radio waiting to hear it. (Remember when you used to have to do that? No instant downloads, no Pandora, no YouTube. We had to wait, sometimes hours, to hear our favorite songs. For some reason, it makes me a little sad that kids don’t have to do that anymore. I am occasionally struck by rogue nostalgia.)

Anyway, I heard the song in Safeway, and it took me right back to when I was a teenager and that song was popular. It came on one time when I was standing by Kevin, a boy on whom I had a mad (and completely unreciprocated) crush. Kevin was a rocker. Reunitied is so NOT a rocker song. Without thinking, I started to sing along, and Kevin looked at me like I was something he’d just scraped off his shoe. I stopped. I cleared my throat as if maybe he’d think that’s all I’d been doing from the start. (Which is not as foolish as it sounds. My singing voice is not unlike the sound of a throat being cleared.) I smiled. He looked away. My hopes of one day kissing Kevin were dashed.

Damn that song. And Kevin, for that matter. This post isn’t about them. It’s about how quickly I was taken back, how vivid the memory, which I hadn’t thought of for years. I marveled at the power of music. And, really, it’s not just music. When I hear baseball on a radio, it reminds me of my childhood. (My mom is a HUGE baseball fan. There was – and is – always a game on in her house.) Certain smells take me back, too – cut grass, pipe tobacco, empanada baking.

So I’m wondering, have you had that experience of being whisked away to a very specific moment in your past? What brought you there – a song? A smell? A familiar place? And, of course, you know how I play this game. If you’ve never experienced it at all, just tell me a musical story. Anything will do; I like to make it so everyone can play.

(Note to Steve: I changed your name to Kevin so no one would judge you for being such a meanie to me. You’re welcome.)

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And speaking of musical… for anyone who wants to see how the whole glass playing thing is supposed to work, watch this. It’s amazing. Maybe I could learn to do it. Maybe the piano just wasn’t my intrument.

An acquaintance by any other name

Remember when Prince changed his name to a copyrighted love symbol, and since no one could pronounce it, they called him The Artist Formerly Known as Prince?

Okay, well, I don’t know anyone who’s gone that far, but I do know people who have changed their names, and whenever it’s happened, I’ve always honored the change. People ought to be called what they want to be called, right? I mean, to me, that seems kind of obvious. But I know not everyone agrees because I’ve seen the resistance.

My little brother, my sister-in-law, and two childhood friends have changed their names during the time I’ve known them. Each time, there were holdouts. People who thought it was stupid. People who insisted on using the old name even though someone they loved was asking them not to. I have a friend who was called Katie growing up, but I’ve never known her by that name. She’s Katherine to me. She’s Katherine to everyone. Except to her mom and her sisters who “will never call her that.”

I’ve never understood that position.

Until now.

Chad and I have an acquaintance who is changing her name, and I’m feeling resistance. It’s because I don’t like the new name. I mean, I really don’t like it. I said that to Chad. He said, “So?”

I said, “I don’t think it’s a real name.”

Chad said, “It’s what she wants to be called.”

Sensing the wrongness of my position I said, “I know, but what if she wanted to be called International Sports Arena?”

He laughed. He said, “If she wanted to be called International Sports Arena, we wouldn’t be friends.”

I think that’s really beside the point, but by then the argument had been derailed. We spent the rest of our walk trying to come up with name changes that would dismay our friends and family.

So here it is, the question of the day: Should you always honor a name change? Have you always done it in the past or have you been resistant? And what if the name is really, really strange – does it matter?

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And now for something completely different… In 1976, French filmmaker Claude Lelouch came up with a simple yet rather radical idea for a short film: He mounted a camera to the hood of his sports car and drove like a maniac through early-morning Paris. The result is the thrilling (wildly irresponsible) and hypnotic C’était un rendez-vou (It Was a Date). Claude Lelouch was arrested after the first showing.

What did you want to be when you grew up?

It’s been a super long time since I posted a question of the day… This one was inspired by my friend who recently wrote about how hard it has been for her to identify her calling… Her post, “What do you want to be when you grow up” is thoughtful and serious and worth reading.

THIS post, on the other hand, is simpler and far less poetic. I really am just curious. When you were little, and people asked the inevitable question  how did you answer? Me? I wanted to be a cab driver. I don’t know why. My mother wrote my answer to the question in one of those old fashioned “School Years” books, where she kept dutiful track of all my brilliant insights, grade by grade. On the kindergarten page, right by my shiny happy 5-year old self, is my answer to the question “What do you want to be when you grow up?” “Cab driver,” it says, in my mother’s neat handwriting, and there’s something about that I just love. (Maybe it’s that I grew up in a tiny little suburb. At five, I doubt if I’d ever even seen a real taxi cab.)

Okay, so think back (or if your mom kept copious detailed notes, check the record) and tell me… what did you want to be when you grew up?