Ellipses

Hey! Someone thinks I’m funny! Do you think I’m funny?… I went from super-excited to super-annoyed in the span of two minutes on Monday. Exiting my neighborhood post office (where I haven’t been for about a year), I saw a freshly-painted storefront, Yoga Tonic. SWEET! A yoga studio three blocks from my apartment, I’ve been waiting nine years for this kind of gentrification to kick in. I entered, intending to grab a class schedule and meet some placid-faced, lithe-limbed hottie (male or female, either would do) who would be my instructor. ALACK! This studio specializes in gyrotonic yoga, which uses a series of pulleys, chaises and other to-be-straddled equipment meant to enable activity that is ”three-dimensional and circular in form with continual motion and fluidity.” Criminey. Not only does the promotional postcard misspell my neighborhood (“Sunny Side” — OUCH!), it also goes seriously woo-woo, resorting to phrases such as “craniosacral therapy” and “intuitive body work.” Listen, if I want intuitive body work done I know who to call and it sure as heck will NOT be the stern gyrobotic woman in that studio…. Thank you for letting me rant, but please be patient because I’ve one more in me… I was looking for a link to an article I read about a year ago in The Oxford American by Farrell Evans. The article is ”A Runner’s Place” (subtitle: Can you love a sport too much?), about Brian Pope, a singularly dedicated runner who skirted success in his youth but has won distance titles (5k and 8k) as a Masters’ runner. Every so often, I’ll pull out this article and re-read it, consistently struck by Pope’s poignant career (and by the fact that he’s 6′ 3″ and weighs 145 pounds. Ladies, let’s not dwell on exactly how thin that is)… Anyway, as I was hunting for the Pope story link, I stumbled across this “web extra” by Charles Wolfe on OA’s website, an essay and video slide show about Louis Armstrong’s little-known love of country music. Since my own appreciation for country music has been burgeoning for a few years now, I wanted to know more about the bluesman’s interest. In the video there is the most charming on-stage exchange between Armstrong and Johnny Cash (I actually said “Awe!” out loud while watching). The article itself is one of those perfect balancing acts that ties together character profile, genre recap and historical context while showing how they all crystalized during a singular performance (the aforementioned “Awe!” moment):

In a sense, this was one of those unique cultural cusps that seems to occur only in American music-the kind that gave rise to Western swing, rock & roll, and rhythm & blue,…. But in a broader sense, it remains one of those shining, egalitarian experiments in American roots music-which [Armstrong and Cash] actually pulled off, like the two great pros they were.

You may want to download Armstrong’s last album, Louis “Country and Western” Armstrong, since I don’t think it’s currently in print…. Even though I knew how it was all going to turn out, I watched most of the ING NYC Marathon on demand via UniversalSports.com this evening. Seriously, though? I have it bad for Kara. She is most definitely my running idol. When is Nike going to give her her own website, ala Deena Kastor? Because it is as plain as the nose on my face (and trust me, you can’t miss my nose) that Kara will soon and neatly step into Deena’s place at the forefront of women’s distance running…. TS’s Tea Knee Goes to the UK blog is getting better and better, although perhaps my own fantasies of a life London-lived completely take over whenever I read her weekly updates. This week, she’s enjoying the realization that she has experience to share; she’s reading A Race Like No Other; and waxes on about how unhelpful our thought-clogged minds can be when we just need to run. And I’m woman enough to admit it: her pigtails are definitely cuter than mine….

And now, the second rant, the rant I primed you for earlier: The Name Rant. WARNING. I will probably step on toes (best-case) or offend (worse-case). Too bad. Okay, what the fuck is up with the name Zoe? Like, every second time someone pops out a baby girl, they name the thing Zoe. Why? WHY? What is this national obsession with unique names? You’re trying too hard, people. Michael, John, William–classics. Anne, Ellen, Sarah–timeless beauties. Those of you who know me personally are probably thinking, Well isn’t this rich, coming from a lady with one of the most unique names in the country. (My parents got my name from a character that appeared in one episode of “The Man from U.N.C.L.E.” My brother got his name from one of the show’s continuing characters. For the record, I love my name.) What brought on this rant against Zoe, and other names-that-strive, you may ask? An industry newsletter profiled this website, and I went a little berserk at work (ha! I’ll need to use that rhyme again) one day plugging in all my favorite and most-hated names. I was dismayed to learn that Rick peaked in the late 1950’s,  and that Ethan is practically the male equivalent of Zoe. (It is possible one day I will manage a staff that includes an Ethan and a Zoe. That will mean it’s time to retire.) However, I was gratified to learn that “Beatrice is back,” Ruby is “on the rise,” and Carolyn is waning. I’m not quite sure how to feel about their take on my middle name (which I chose for myself, since it was my Confirmation name). One of the funniest things about baby names, which I secretly revel in: when people discover that their child shares a name with a dog from the neighborhood. (My bitch is named Matilda.) Anyway. Have I made you laugh, or pissed you off? Would love to hear the names you love and hate. Chances are, we have conflicting overlaps, which will make things fun.