Author: InteractThis

I am a woman of many moods and each one has her own soundtrack.

My Friday Afternoon With Matisse

Every time I travel to a new city, I make a point of visiting one or more of its museums, so it is somewhat strange how little time I have spent at the Minneapolis Institute of Arts (MIA) when it is within walking distance of where I live. After seeing repeated ads for the Matisse exhibit, and having heard of the artist, I thought it was a perfect opportunity to spend a little quality time at the fabulous local museum.

I am always struck by the architecture of museums and often remember it more vividly than the paintings within. Be it columns, staircases, marble floors, grand entrances or long ornate hallways, each element combines to create a spectacular setting and a tone of noteworthiness. The MIA is no exception to creating a beautiful backdrop to appreciate art, although my favorite entrance is currently under siege of an ice wall worthy of guarding by the Night’s Watch from The Game of Thrones.

So much ice, should be melted by June.
So much ice, should be melted by June.
The practical entrance.
The practical entrance.

As I always do when given the opportunity, I bought the audio tour to help enhance my experience with actual knowledge and stuff beyond just looking at the prettiness; I found the audio for this exhibit to be well done and worth the added cost. The headsets add a layer of isolation making me feel as though I am all alone enjoying the art.

There is something about visiting a museum that makes me feel small. When I think about how long ago a piece was created or how prolific an artist was I am in awe and wonder about their exceptional life and the sacrifices they had to make to create such beauty. With Matisse, he was considered a modern master by the time he was my age and was able to reinvent himself and his art as he continued his career; if I am a modern master of anything it is TV viewing which is much less impressive.

View of downtown Minneapolis from the inside of the MIA.
View of downtown Minneapolis from the inside of the MIA.
Looking toward the practical exit.
Looking toward the practical exit.

My ability to appreciate art is incredibly primitive; I react on a gut level as to what strikes my fancy but could not articulate any logical reason why one piece appeals to me over another. I listen to the audio, I read the posted description and while I understand that these words are English, when put together to describe the art I practically hear the swoshing sound as they fly over my head. I learned to accept this about myself ages ago and I am sure it is part of my charm.

On this visit I found myself drawn to some lithographs and a painting called “Girl Reading, Vase of Flowers” which I liked for the colors as well as how the girl was sitting as she read.

Normally, I am drawn to sculptures and it takes all of my self-control to not pet them. I liked Matisse’s sculptures but not as much as the other pieces. I did think it was cool that he used sculpting as a way to inspire his painting.

My favorite painting from this visit.
My favorite painting from this visit.

Most of the people milling about the art appeared appreciative and eager to take it all in. There was one couple that seemed to be in my way no matter which direction I turned but, as I was not in any hurry, I was not bothered. I was struck by a lost girl who was casually looking for her people as a museum staff member followed closely behind trying to extract any clue as to their identity. The young girl, maybe 7 or 8, seemed so nonchalant by the occurrence I assumed this was not a first and considering I saw her wondering about on her own later I also assume it will not be her last.

I enjoyed the exhibit and it was a lovely way to spend an afternoon. I must make a point to get back to the MIA soon and enjoy the permanent collection.

I learned that Matisse often painted the same pieces like this gray vase.
I learned that Matisse often painted the same pieces like this gray vase.
I learned that Matisse often painted the same pieces like this gray vase.
I learned that Matisse often painted the same pieces like this gray vase.
If you do not want me to touch, you should make the signs easier for old lady eyeballs to read.
If you do not want me to touch, you should make the signs easier for old lady eyeballs to read.

A Conversation With A Friend

Friend: I finally read one of your blog posts.

Me: Oh really? Which ones?

Friend: Something you posted on Facebook.

Me: I posted a few there.

Friend: Umm, I can’t remember. It was really long though.

Me: So, it was so long you forgot already? Nice.

Friend: Well, longer than I expected. It was good (in an atypical high-pitched tone that was completely unconvincing.)

Me: It was long but maybe good and you have forgotten already. Now I am sad.

Friend: Well it was a day ago.

Me: I think I should go.

Friend: What??

Clockwise At The Gym

Since Mother Nature decided that we needed more days below freezing, I decided to head to the gym yesterday to walk aimlessly around the track. As usual, I gave little thought and began walking in the direction of those who arrived before me, but something was off.

Today was clockwise day, and this lady was boldly walking counter-clockwise. That is not allowed. Gym anarchy!

Then I began doubting myself; maybe she was walking clockwise after all. I hesitated, but continued on in her chosen direction. Finally, I could not take it anymore. I must conform to the rules, they are in place for a reason I am sure. I already have one leg shorter than the other, I do not want to make it any worse by taking uneven turns on a track.

After multiple attempts at normal hair, this is what I looked like at the gym. I love how the B&W setting enhances the circles under my eyes.
After multiple attempts at normal hair, this is what I looked like at the gym. I love how the B&W filter enhances the circles under my eyes.

I kept trying to picture a clock in my head and which way the hands go but my brain was so occupied with the whole walking stuff that I could not get it right. Finally I stopped, turned toward the center of the gym, closed my eyes and tried to imagine a clock. Then I opened my eyes and looked at the giant clock on the wall. Still, I had to use my hands to demonstrate to myself which way was clockwise and then transfer that to the track. I was right; this lady was whack.

But knowing this did not eliminate my problem. Do I say something to her? Am I the track police? What if she doesn’t care about such rules? Do I just start walking in the proper direction and try not to crash into her as our paths cross? Should I just walk the incorrect way until she is done? So many questions!

She was walking toward me and I had decided I was going to mention her directional folly, when she suddenly veered left exited the gym. I did a little happy dance in my brain, woohoo, all is right in the gym track world! I began slowly walking in the proper clockwise direction, relieved of the stress of lawlessness I drifted off in thought as to what I might do to amuse myself for the rest of the day.

Soon, another dude showed up to walk, looked around and began following me. I wanted to turn around and tell him, “you’re welcome, I solved today’s directional challenge,” but I thought that was be a bit weird and I just hate being weird.

My Greenway path that misses me walking on it because the polar vortex hates outside walkers.
My Greenway path that misses me walking on it because the polar vortex hates outside walkers.

Reconnecting With My Ex- Boyfriend

Yesterday my ex-boyfriend and I FINALLY talked, 7 weeks after he dropped me off at the airport and would soon break up with me by text; It was weird at first, as it felt like nothing had changed and no time had passed, while also feeling like it had been an eternity and I didn’t even know this man anymore.

Earlier in the day he added me back on social media, I hesitated for the slightest moment to accept since we had not actually spoken, but, true to my nature, I clicked yes and then perused the digital remnants of his last weeks; it was more difficult than I expected.

Continue reading “Reconnecting With My Ex- Boyfriend”

Bike Seat Wedgies And Morons Are As Annoying As You Think

When Operation Suck Less in 2014™ was first conceived, I signed up for a wellness program offered by the Y.W.C.A.; I thought it would be a good jumpstart to achieving my goals, give me cheap access to a health club and the insurance reimbursement would be a nice extra bonus.

The 2-month program consists of 3 weekly small group sessions with a trainer covering nutrition and introductory sessions of a variety of exercise classes and activities; the program is set up so you begin at any time and cycle through.

This week’s exercise focused on stationary biking and spinning. I have a recumbent bike sitting in the corner, sad and ignored except for the bras drying on the handlebars. My bike is easy to get on and off, as I recall, and has a nice wide comfy seat for my not-so-nice wide comfy seat. I really like this bike and someday I might get on it again.

For some reason I thought owning an ignored recumbent bike, properly prepared me for health club bikes. I am so, so silly.

We walked into a room filled with rows of silver torture machines, obviously evolved from alien technology, and we were meant to figure out how to adjust them and get our body on one. I kind of figured out the height adjustment but the seat positioning and arm positioning were clearly beyond the scope of my capabilities. The trainer sort of helped me but her clear goal was people on the bikes, now.

Once I was on, I realized the pedals had toe clips that were much too tight for my thick walking shoes. Getting off was not appealing due to the effort I had expended getting on this so called bike, so I tried to bend over from my awkward position to adjust these clips but bonked my head on the handlebars and decided to just fake it.

I attempted to pedal but nothing moved, not in the slightest. I kind of freaked out as I realize pedal movement is key to the act of cycling. The trainer noticed the confused look on my face and finally pointed out the resistance lever set to what I assume was 500 million, so I moved it to 1 and eventually the pedals moved and the panel lit up showing my micro effort.

Once I started to move, I became more uncomfortable. Having a bionic hip means it often feels like I am sitting on a cast iron ball, so I shifted a bit to move this ball and inadvertently gave myself a wedgie; I am certain I have never been so close to clothing in my life and I was uncertain if this closeness could ever be extracted.

I continued the pedaling as best I could and kept trying to find a more comfortable position that was never going to be found. My nether regions, or what ever cute Oprah-esc name you use, will never feel the same again. I admire any woman who has given birth once and chooses to do it a second time because after my one bike session there is no way in hell there will be a second. I may give that comfy recumbent bike a ride, but I will be waiting a few days before I attempt it.

So far the nutrition sessions are utterly pointless. I might not look like I know proper nutrition, but you don’t get an ass like mine without knowing what is good for you so you can avoid it at all costs. I keep hoping there will be some nugget to take away but so far, not so good.

I hate being judged on my looks so it would be totally unfair to judge our training lady based on the fact she is smaller than a 10 year old boy and has probably never had to worry about a piece of chocolate cake going to her hips; instead I will judge her on being a moron and I really don’t do well with morons.

The trainer lady basically reads off her handouts, giggles nervously and, when asked simple questions that even I could answer, she rambles on an on without providing any clarity. Everyone in the session does her best to not glance at each other for fear we might start rolling our eyes or giggling as well.

She shows up each week ill-prepared, never has a room ready, the handouts are not copied and it is obvious she has not even glanced at what she is meant to go over. She awkwardly reads a summary, and then she spends the rest of our allotted time wasting it and rambling. How can we have any confidence in what she is saying when she doesn’t even attempt to show authority?

After a couple weeks of this, I find I do not like her much. I have no desire to punch her, yet, but I spend most of our sessions trying hard to not let my distain permeate the entire room; I hate having my time wasted by others when I am perfectly capable of wasting it in many creative and entertaining ways. While she bugs, I do not stay after our session and complain about her like the other ladies, but it has been tempting.

This week we talked about meal planning, I think, it was hard to follow between the mumbling and the “ums.” I still have no idea what point she was trying to make other than meals should be planned, maybe.

She focused a lot of her rambling on healthy snack option and singled each of us out to share what we choose for healthy snacks. I was first. I had a choice that was probably going to set the tone for the next 19 minutes of hell, play along nicely or bring down the room.

I guess Operation Suck Less in 2014™ could also include being nicer to morons, maybe there is some karma or other benefits to be reaped. So while my inner monologue went on a tangent of snarky comments that I was certain the others would match or how there is no way this ass gets any snack one could deem healthy, I took a deep breath, smiled and said, “Um, an apple.”  Not exactly a lie, I eat apples.

She seemed to be pleased, the other ladies followed with their various snack lies, and finally our lame session was over. How I will make it until this nonsense is over, I have no idea, but I am sure I will have lots of practice being tolerant and probably know nothing new about nutrition.

I did eat an apple today however, I did not get on a bike.

Ch Ch Changes: Minnesota Weather and My Motivation

I try to not get too excited about the weather in Minnesota, it is something I have no control over and it is going to do what it wants no matter what I think about it. I rarely even look at the weather report unless I am traveling.

This year, with the intense grip of the polar vortex, ignoring the weather has been a bit more challenging; even inside, I was usually frozen no matter how many blankets formed my cocoon.

March weather is always a fickle beast; one minute it is rainy, the next the sun is out and then you wake up to snow. The airport gets overrun with people flocking to warmer climates for spring break. I think I always relate to March as I too have rapid and harsh shifts in mood and people run away when they can no longer take it.

This March is no different than years past; yesterday I was bombarded with ice pellets as I tried to scrape frozen ones off my car but an hour later it was sunny and this morning I awoke to some light snow with a weather alert saying inches of it are headed our way later.

Normally I would not care other than to assure I had the proper balance of fat, sugar and salt tucked away in the cabinets. Now, with Operation Suck Less in 2014™, I have no sugar and my only fat delivery mechanisms consist of olive oil and raw nuts. Boring. I mean yummy and good for me.

The timing of this supposed storm leaves me torn. It is scheduled to arrive during my evening exercise class and I find myself wanting it to hit with a vengeance. C’mon storm, give me an excuse to stay home! I am not in the mood to go, my knee is sore, I sliced open my thumb on my favorite knife, my hair is fugly, my emotional exhaustion has now transformed to a physical exhaustion and nearly every part of me wants to stay home and watch bad TV.

Nearly every part or me, there seems to be a tiny annoying voice I am completely unfamiliar with telling me I should still go and will feel better for doing so. What is this crazy positivity seeping from my brain? Can it please be quiet?

Great. Now all the voices in my head won’t even agree on being a lazy sack now and again. Uncool. There is a certain joy in being lazy and skipping doing what is good for you; it is the closest I have as an adult to faking illness and getting out of school. Good times, good times.

I tell myself skipping will only be this one time and I will be back at it tomorrow; really it would be smart if the weather is bad to just stay home and safe. Another voice in my head is laughing so hard it is getting difficult to hear all the conflicting input.

Looking at the weather report there is a 76% chance of snow beginning an hour ago. Looking out my window there is just a few tiniest of tiny flakes falling. Looking at my clock I only have 1 hour for a massive storm to hit and keep me inside with an acceptable excuse.

C’mon storm! C’mon motivation! C’mon brain pick a side!

Screw it. I am going to the gym. I am NOT happy about it. Stupid new voice better be right.

I Have Anger Issues

My ex-boyfriend and I were finally able to exchange emails and he finally shared more information about our crappy breakup. Finally! Of course it was after I had to wait in dread for a couple days feeling like I could puke any second. Ugh.

It was simultaneously easy to read and hard but it was nearly exactly what I expected. I went through a lot of emotions as I basically re-lived our breakup, but the one I am having issues with is anger.

Continue reading “I Have Anger Issues”

Butt Cramps And Boob Sweat At The Y.W.C.A.

Looking for a change of pace, I decided to head to the gym and take advantage of the track; I wish I could walk outside but it is still freezing and for every clear square of sidewalk there are two covered in ice just waiting to take me out.

The local Y.W.C.A. was formerly a high school so the track is on the upper level overlooking what once was a full basketball court. There are a couple of spongy lanes and it is perfect for my limited needs. The only downer is that the colors are so dull and blah; of all the choices in the crayon box they picked the ones I would toss or let my younger sister use.

The old basketball court is divided in half with one area full of intimidating equipment and the other an open space for pickup games and larger exercise classes. From my vantage point and with my super slow walking pace, I get to take it all in.

Today’s exercise class is Body Pump. I only know this as I briefly considered taking one during that short time when I was actually in decent shape. There was a blend of men and women of various fitness levels all busting their butts to get their butts firm and lifted. Unlike my fellow aqua aerobic peeps, there is no idle chatter and wandering off aimlessly, these people mean business and have the sweat lines to prove it.

The music was loud and provided a decent beat for even us walkers. I decided to rotate in some power walking laps and try to get back my old hip snapping form. It is amazing how much faster I can walk pumping my arms, rolling on my feet and maintaining a relaxed and proper posture. It is more amazing how fast one particular lady at least 20 years my senior can blow past me looking all casual with her iPod as I am pumping my arms like a fool. Today is yours lady, but one day, one day in the future. I will smoke your ass and then go hide in a corner as I try to catch my breath.

Even though it got a bit warmer, I kept my long sleeve black jacket on the entire walk. I am fairly certain this jacket makes all my jiggling parts completely invisible to my fellow humans, so really, it is my gift to them.

On the other half of the gym, there are a variety of people using the equipment but oddly everyone seems to be in the same uniform of black pants and turquoise t-shirts. Clearly, my fuchsia top and invisibility jacket combo need to stay out of this room.

A cute couple was lifting weights and kissing in between sets…awww…barf. Several men were getting all he-man on the various machines, although the dude on the leg press looked like he may have loaded up a bit too much and would be eating his legs soon. I have to give it to the ladies, they had much better form on the free weights than the dudes; I see a back injury in the future of one peacocking a bit too much.

There was a typical person on the stair climber leaning on her arms so much I wonder what muscle is actually getting worked and the treadmills were loaded with both runners and walkers zoning out to their own tunes or morning television. On the elliptical, one dude looked like he was fighting it with every loop while a tiny woman was floating like a gazelle on the next machine; I wonder what it feels like to float like a gazelle.

Walking along staring at the folk below, I imagined what it must look like from their perspective. In one lane, there was a dude doing lunges and groaning with each dip while a runner sprints by. In the slow lane, several ladies are walking at a decent clip except for that one chick meandering about pumping her arms in a flimsy invisibility jacket that was not fooling anyone.

As I kept pumping my arms and rolling my feet, I felt the tiniest of tiny twinges in my butt, almost like the beginning of a muscle cramp and I smiled. I have a butt muscle! A BUTT muscle exists in my butt! I have a buuuuuttttt muscle! Woohoo. So I rubbed it briefly so as not to freak anyone out and picked up the pace. Maybe someday I will have one in the other cheek too. A girl can dream.

Finally, I was ready to cool down and took a casual lap as I stretched my barely there muscles. Shoulder rolls, calf stretches, lower back stretches, I covered them all. Then I felt the oddest thing, a dripping. One bead, then another, going down my cheek near my ear, I believe people call this sweat. Nice. Then another bead down my chest, boob sweat! I can’t remember when I last had boob sweat. Boob sweat is gross and yet oddly welcome today. Obviously all that arm pumping had to have a payoff and what I got was boob sweat.

Butt cramps and boob sweat at the Y.W.C.A.; can a Sunday get any better?

Spontaneous Minnesota Landscape Arboretum Adventure

Yesterday I spontaneously decided to head to the Minnesota Landscape Arboretum hoping some of the great outdoors and a farmers market would shake my boredom and distract my brain.

I had a vague notion of where the Arboretum is located based on the one time I stumbled upon it wanting to visit the birthplace of the best apple ever, the Honeycrisp. It seemed far enough away to justify some snacks so I convinced myself that a Jamba Juice with a protein boost was an acceptable treat and would not violate Operation Suck Less in 2014; I even included a tiny bit of banana for extra nutrition hoping all the berries would mask the nastiness.

Visitor center with a tree made from potted plants that I would manage to kill in 24 hours.
Visitor center with a tree made from potted plants that I would manage to kill in 24 hours.

I glanced at the directions and headed for Hwy 5 dodging the massive potholes to the best of my ability. I see much roadwork headed our way this spring.

I should probably know the speed limit of these highways but my eyeballs seem to refuse to acknowledge any speed limit sign as if there is a conspiracy within my body knowing that I really do have a need for speed. Since I do not have a need for a speeding ticket, I just drove a tiny bit slower than the lead car; I cannot wait until I can drop the top! Note to self: plan a road trip.

The Arboretum is closer than I expected so I didn’t even get to finish my beverage, which was fine since the banana was giving me gross banana burps and I wanted to barf. There is a certain joy being alone in the car and being able to burp as loud as you want, even if they are gross banana burps.

I love when I can drive someplace on instinct and little instruction so I was feeling pretty proud when I found it so easily. To be fair, I think anyone could find it with little instruction but I am going to feel proud anyway.

The admission is a bit pricey at $12 but I told myself it is for the trees and you do get a voucher for a second visit within 30 days. I was surprised at the crowd, but I guess many other people were looking to shake the boredom.

Not yet anyway.
Not yet anyway.

The main visitor center was hosting the Mill City Farmers market and I wandered around aimlessly looking for anything that might appeal to my still flip-floppy stomach.

I am not sure why I thought I would find vegetables since there is still snow everywhere but when you put together the words “farmer” and “market” my mind thinks veggies. Instead, I tried some barbecued bison and wild rice meatballs from a mom and her cute helper child who slimed up the toothpicks before she stuck them in the balls. They were okay but my regular cow ones are better and do not come with random kid slime.

Since the market did not seem to hold much interest, I headed out to wander the trails. Even covered in snow, the grounds are beautiful and trees, I assume maple, are set to gather maple syrup.

I wandered around, letting my thoughts drift and enjoying the snow for what I wished would be the last time. At this point I realized spontaneous walking adventures in the freezing cold are less awesome when you go straight from the gym and are still wearing yoga pants so I headed back to the car.

Leaving the Arboretum requires turning on to a rather busy highway, which always makes me tense trying to find the perfect opening; this body has been in a couple car accidents and would like to never experience that again. I mistakenly let a few prime opportunities go but, as the line behind me began to get longer, I got more gutsy and I finally gunned it hoping that white truck coming at me would slow down long enough to let me hit whatever the speed limit is on the highway. Luckily, it did.

Trees!
Trees!

It was a nice afternoon adventure and while it took me the rest of the night to thaw my butt, I am glad I made the trek. I will have to head back again when the snow is just a distant memory.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Forest Transformation in memory of those who perished on September, 11, 2001"
“Forest Transformation in memory of those who perished on September, 11, 2001”

My New Old Jam

I have always had a special place in my musical heart for Camper Van Beethoven from the first time I saw them open for R.E.M. to the later tours at First Avenue. David Lowery went on to form the equally loved band Cracker and he is probably one of the top 5 musicians I have seen most often live. While CVB’s “Take The Skinheads Bowling” was the tune I first loved and became a regular on my college radio show, “Ambiguity Song” is on the most playlists and is a song that resonates with me in times of uncertainty…it is once again my jam.

The video is pointless, just posted here for the tune.