I am constantly listening to the radio, from my alarm walking me up with Morning Edition to falling asleep to the Real Jazz channel on XM radio. My days are filled with music, but also with news and the voices that read that news.

I love the voices of Carl Kasell, Bob Edwards, Sylvia Poggioli, Noah Adams, and Susan Stamberg. Those voices make me feel calm and relaxed and even happy. (Really, how can Sylvia Poggioli’s voice not make you happy?)

But in the same way, there are voices that grate on my ears, that I do not like to hear. On NPR those voices include Liane Hansen, Joe Graedon, and Sue Scott. (Something about Sue Scott’s voice makes me run for the radio to turn it off.)

And of course there the voices of people in the news. Which brings me to my point. Now I can’t stand George W. Bush’s voice, but I think that’s more association than anything inherent about his voice. And I don’t like Al Gore’s cadences. There’s nothing wrong with his voice, but his cadences when he’s speaking formally bug me. And John Kerry, something about his voice and speech patterns.

But nothing like Sarah Palin’s voice. All it took was listening to the debate, and her voice makes me twitchy. I want to find her, and smack her into taking elocution lessons.

There’s only one other voice I can think of off the top of my head that does this to me. There’s a very nice woman in my building who has the most annoying voice every. Her voice is located in her nose, and to make it worse it’s extremely high pitched. Sometimes I just want to yell at her to speak from her chest. (Note to Gina: I am not talking about she whose computer senses fear.)

The difference is that Sarah Palin should KNOW better. She was a newscaster. She should know how to modulate her voice. Why she should choose such a nasal register is beyond me.

Especially when dropping your voice into your chest to deepen it is so much more effective when dealing with men. :)

HA!

38 miles per gallon

Created by The Car Connection

My problem with this is that it asked questions about running, which I haven’t done in years and years. But I walk daily. My average pace for walking is about a 14 minute mile.

(via Jim)

It’s time for another game of word association.

To get around the restrictions, type the old word, an equal sign, and then your word.

Marshmallow

I’m sitting here putting off going to work.

Let’s hope things are a lot calmer than they were yesterday.

I hate Mondays.

(more…)

I’ve been trying to add some varied aerobic activity into my workout. I can’t run or do elliptical machines because of my knees, and to be honest I don’t like a lack of forward momentum. So I’ve been looking for activities to add to my walking, and decided to add jump roping.

The first jump rope I got was too short. Way too short. It kept getting caught in my hair on the upswing (my hair is chin length, but too short to pull back). I could get about ten jumps in before the thing would tangle in my hair and go off course.

So I found a longer jump rope.

I tried this a couple times, however, for some unknown reason, the rope (actually thin, smooth plastic/rubber tube[think a whip]) kept twisting at the top (or bottom if you prefer) of the arc, and would after 15 to 20 jumps twist around itself twice–enough that it would go entirely off course.

Michael actually witnessed this, and saw the rope coiling as I jumped.

Yesterday I decided I’d do 25 jumps, untwist the rope, do 25 more jumps, and so on and so forth.

At about sixteen jumps I had a fair amount of momentum, at which point the rope comes down SMACK on my arm.

I’ve still got a six to eight-inch mark on my forearm where the damned thing hit me.

So no more jump rope. I’m thinking of jumping over the painted lines on the floor, except with my luck, I’ll probably trip over ’em.

Michael: You look broken.
Michelle: I am broken.
Michael: I don’t have a receipt. Are you recyclable?
Michelle: No, but I am compostable.
Michael: Hmmm…
Michelle: HEY!

I’ve felt off-kilter for the past couple days. Nothing I can specifically say that’s it, just a vague feeling of unease and anxiety.

Which really sucks.

When I was at the gym doing crunches, I had the following conversation with myself.

Me: eighteen, nineteen…
Me: Why am I doing this.
Me: …
Me: Really. Do I care how I look?
Me: twenty, twenty-one?
Me: No. I don’t care. So why am I doing these damned crunches?
Me: Um… twenty-two?
Me: If I’m walking thirty minutes a day isn’t that ENOUGH?
Me: Er… twenty-three?
Me: My stomach is never going to be flat, why am I bothering?
Me: twenty-four.
Me: I hate this. I hate crunches.
Me: (sigh)
Me: (stares at the ceiling)
Me: Because. That’s why. Because it’s good for you.
Me: But I don’t like doing crunches. They’re boring. They aren’t doing me any good. I feel bloated.
Me: one, two, three…

I hate Mondays.

Most Fridays we get take out from Flying Fish. Grandmom always tries to pay for dinner.

Grandmom: How much was dinner?
Michelle: A millions dollars.
Grandmom: Well, that sounds fair.

As I walked up the stairs to work this morning, the smell of fallen leaves was in the air. There were no leaves to crunch underfoot as I walked, because they clean the sidewalks continually here, but that brief whiff of fall brightened my morning.

Grandmom: You know, I didn’t put my hearing aid in today.
Michelle & Michael: WE KNOW!

Anne took some interesting quizzes, so I figured they’d make a good lunchtime first-day-back-after-vacation break.

(more…)

Main Entry: canoodle
Pronunciation: \k?-?nü-d?l\
Function: intransitive verb
Inflected Form(s): ca·noo·dled; ca·noo·dling Listen to the pronunciation of canoodling Listen to the pronunciation of canoodling \-?nü-dli?, -?nü-d?l-i?\
Etymology: perhaps from English dialect canoodle, noun, donkey, fool, foolish lover
Date: 1859

Ding!
Indistinct yelling.
Ding!
The elevator doors open.
“You motherfuck…”
I step out of the elevator.
The tipsy yelling guy gulps.
I duck my head so he can’t see I’m laughing at him.