matching tracksuits

Every cloudless morning as I drive to work, I’m treated to a most spectacular view of the early morning sun. Just as I turn a bend, it always hits me square in the eyes, making me hope there’s not a car coming the other direction.

More than once, I wished I had a camera with me.

Last autumn, K and I drove out to the Blue Ridge Parkway to watch the sun rise one Sunday morning.

Last night I hit on the brilliant and more convenient idea of K and I going on an early-morning walk here.

The sun, however, did not exactly cooperate. Nice colors, but nothing truly brilliant.

There were about thirty couples altogether. A good general mix, but a surprising amount of young people.

“I’m starting a family about ten years later than most people here,”� I thought as we walked in, looking at the young faces.

Tonight, we went for our first of eight two-hour birthing classes.

What an odd thing � classes on how to give birth. Our great-grandparents would have laughed at us. “You might as well be going to a class on how to peel potatoes,”� they might say.

Still, there we sat, listening to the symptoms of premature labor and discussing what to do about it should it happen to us.

“The rate of premature births in less industrialized nations is much lower,”� our instructor pointed out. “We have amazing technology, and we do a great job of keeping premature babies alive,”� she continued, “But we’re relatively lousy at preventing them.”�

Push-button ease has put our babies at some degree of risk. We don’t move as much as people in the non-industrialized world. We wash our clothes by pushing a button and take our trash by car two hundred meters to the apartment-complex dumpster.

Ironic: technology has both helped cause the problem and effectively dealt with the result.

There is no middle ground in United States politics because there is no viable third party. America’s black-and-white thinking is reflected in our political system. “You are either with us, or you are against us.”

The void created by having a two-party system has hurt both the Democrats and the Republicans — not to mention the general population. Joe Lieberman is a good example of a politician who could use a viable third part; I’m a private citizen who could use a viable third party.

I think we call could.

Bush stayed in power with a combination of support from hard-line Republicans and individuals who might not agree with Bush’s stance on everything, but voted for him because of the perceived continued threat of terrorism. A viable third party would have helped.

Ross Perot was a one-man third party, until he stuck his gilded foot in his mouth at the NAACP.

“You people need a third party.”

Agreed.

Interesting juxtaposition in the Scotsman yesterday:

ONE of Germany’s leading opera houses has unleashed an angry debate over free speech by cancelling a production over security fears because a scene featured the severed heads of Buddha, Jesus and Mohammed. [...]

After its premiere in 2003, the production by Hans Neuenfels drew widespread criticism over a scene in which King Idomeneo presents the severed heads not only of the Greek god of the sea, Poseidon, but also of Jesus, Buddha and Mohammed.

Now, who did they have in mind when they cancelled the production?

Christians?

Buddhists?

Ancient Greeks?

“We know the consequences of the conflict over the [Mohammed] caricatures,” the opera house said in a statement. “We believe that needs to be taken very seriously and hope for your support.” (Source)

Are we living in dhimmitude?

Tuesday is a harsh and heartless taskmaster. It is the only day of the week that has nothing going for it. Nothing about a Tuesday eases getting out of bed. Nothing about a Tuesday gives me any hope that I can survive the week.

Monday is a matter of brute force. I get out of bed because I have to. It’s a matter of mind over drowsiness — something that has to be done, and so I do it.

Wednesday is the halfway mark. Sisyphus finally gets the boulder to the top and, by the grace or inattention of the gods, gives it the final push to get the boulder rolling down the other side.

The only thing Thursday has to recommend it is its proximity to Friday. I can make it though a bad Thursday solely by thinking, “Tomorrow’s Friday. Tomorrow’s Friday.”

Friday, of course, is Friday: it has everything going for it.

But Tuesday? Other than time with Morrie, whom I don’t even know, I can’t think of a single good thing about Tuesday.

I don’t recommend it.