Pop a la Mode

I happened to catch “Little House on the Prairie” last night while I was channel surfing. That show was required viewing in my house during summer vacations. TBS used to run four episodes in a row every morning and the lazy bums that my brother and I were, we sat there and watched.

But as I watched this one last night, a few questions came up that I’m thinking some of you might help me answer:

1. Why on earth did Michael Landon have a ‘fro on the prairie? That is not historically accurate.
2. Did anybody else want to take Nellie and Mrs. Olsen by the hair and knock them together repeatedly?
3. What happened to Albert? He was adopted; then he got hooked on morphine; then he got nose bleeds; then he died. What did I miss?
4. I have a confession: I thought Almanzo was the biggest, dumbest farmer on the prairie.

Just a few thoughts. I still love the show despite the fact that nothing was actually taken from the books except their names.

I still don’t run.

I am the first to admit when I fail at something, and running will now rank at the top of my disasters. Between the pain in my ankle, the pain in my knee and the pain in my lungs - it is not enjoyable. Of course Rhodes suggested that everytime I get a pain that I go get a shot of cortisone. I don’t think so.

So I’m going back to what I know best - spinning. There is a different kind of pain associated with that - the kind that makes me think that I’m actually working out, not further injuring myself.

I gave it the old college try. I’ll just stick to dreaming about it.

Finally! One of my favorite TV shows is getting a little recognition: Cash Cab.

I have three of these sitting on my Tivo right now. This guy drives around New York City as a cabbie picking up riders. Trick is, it’s a game show. He will ask you questions all the way to your destination and you win cash for every correct answer. If you miss three questions, he dumps you out on the spot.

Ben Bailey (the host) is the most multi-tasking cabbie/game show host I have ever seen.  The next time I go to New York, I’m totally looking for him.

Imagine getting in a cab and as soon as you close the door, lights start flashing, bells ring and the ceiling lights up. I would be scared senseless. And that’s the best part - the look on people’s faces when they first see the lights go off. Confusion; fear; curiosity - all in one millisecond.

I plead with you - watch it if you have the chance. It’s television gold.

The first total eclipse of the sun in many years will occur tomorrow over most of Africa and Mongolia. I remember in elementary school we made those little crafty “solar shades” out of paper towel tubes so that we could watch it. Come to think of it, that probably wasn’t the safest thing to do. I probably have a sun spot on my brain or something.

The reason I mention it is because of the blurb at the end of this news story:

One Indian paper advised pregnant women not to go outside during the eclipse to avoid having a blind baby or one with a cleft lip. Food cooked before the eclipse should be thrown out afterward because it will be impure and those who are holding a knife or ax during the eclipse will cut themselves, the Hindustan Times added.

Good to know.

Eavesdropping over instant messenger:

Me: I have a recommendation - can we do week one again? I’m not sure we ran enough last week to be at week two.

Rhodes: There’s no turning back now!

Me: Nooo - I’m not trying to be lazy. I don’t think we’re ready.

Rhodes: Why?

Me: Okay fine, maybe I’m lazy but we’re supposed to run two full laps tonight. I’ll die.

Rhodes: No you can do this - just have faith in the program. If it says you can do it, then you can!

Me: Oh I have faith in the program but not in my lungs.

To be continued….

I don’t run.

I will run for my life and I will run to the dessert table at family reunions, but running for recreation - not necessary.

And yet I want to run. I want to be like those people I see when I’m sitting in traffic along Lakeshore. They run as if they don’t have a care in the world and the lungs of Goliath. Runners are so graceful - striding along, breathing deep, full of health and vitality.

Here’s the problem - when I run, I don’t look like that. I’m gasping for breath while holding the stitch in my side and rubbing my cramped calf muscle. And that’s only after half a lap.

So what on God’s green earth has possessed me to do this? Because I figure, it can’t get any worse.

My friend Rhodes and I started this last week and ran five days in a row. I can’t believe it either. I’ll keep you posted on the progress or lack thereof.