Home for the Holidays. Sortof.

Another week in Baltimore! I straightened my hair for the occasion. When my mom saw me, the first thing she said was, "Why is your hair flat?"

My brother Bryan came in from New Zealand with his wife Nancy and 21-month old daughter Abby. Ultimately, they flew to Madison, WI for Christmas with Nancy's family, but they arranged to spend some time in Baltimore first. I hadn't seen them since May (their last trip to Baltimore), before Abby could talk. Now she calls me "Zora". And she has a Kiwi accent, which must have come from daycare, because both her parents are American. AND, unlike the rest of the family, Abby has curly hair, like mine. When she gets older, I can be her spiritual hair advisor (e.g. anti-frizz curl-defining hair products and anti-Bette hair straightening techniques that work).

When I got into town, we had another Thanksgiving meal, complete with mushroom stuffing, because the NZ contingent missed out on the calendarly correct one. Again, it was fabulous. Then, over leftovers the next day, we discussed things that intellectuals discuss, such as "gym nakedness protocol". My parents go to a gym, but not together; they have slightly different exercise regimens. My mom lines up at the front door and waits for it to open at 5:30am so that she can do 30 minutes of cardio, then some weights, then 30 minutes of cardio before work. My dad does a lot of hanging out, which is understandable, because it's the fanciest gym in the universe. You know, super clean, all the newest cardio machines complete with built-in DVD player and cable TV, no rust on the spin bikes (I actually went to a spin class. So that's how a spin bike is supposed to work! The ride was so creamy smooth, I didn't even realize I was at threshold the whole time. But the phrase "this is a Johnny G. technique" was actually uttered, which was a little scary.), several Internet stations, smoothie bar...blah blah blah. My favorite part of the gym is the women's steam room. It's all sparkling white, smells of eucalyptus, and few people use it. I mentioned this during our Day-After-Thanksgiving#2 meal, and Bryan asked, "Do you go in naked?" As I said "yes", I realized that I've never seen anyone else in there naked. But at my gym, most women use the sauna naked (we don't have a steam room). Plus, what's the point of a steam room, if half of your skin never gets the benefit? Apparently, most of the men go into theirs naked. Bryan's scared to go in. My dad wears shorts.

Intellectual/cultural pursuits continued the next evening, when I went downtown to see the Monument Piano Trio at An Die Musik with my parents. My mom lined up early (do you see a trend here?), so she snagged a couple of front row seats when the door opened. At intermission, mom dashed out to the lobby so that she could line up early at the bathrooms. I slowly made my way to the lobby, and she was still waiting, first in line, with a guy behind her, wondering aloud what could be taking so long. The guy behind her asked, "Are you sure there's someone in there?" So she tried the door again. Oops. It was empty the whole time. I guess she's just used to waiting....

One of the pieces they played was E.W. Korngold's opus #1, which he wrote in the early 1900s at the ripe old age of thirteen (!!). I think I still had a sticker collection at thirteen. I'd have felt better if the sheet music had been written with crayon, but I was close enough to see it, and it wasn't. Maybe it was transposed from crayon.

Well, I may not have written a concerto, but on the not unpleasant Christmas day flight back to Oakland, I did something that I'm sure anyone would agree is fairly comparable: I totally reprogrammed my HR monitor with all new workouts! It took 2 hours (I accidentally re-set it after the first hour, erasing all my work). I now have to burn at least 75% of my 9 hour/5800 calorie weekly goal to earn the flashing trophy every Monday. I know what you're thinking: Where can I get a watch that'll get me to work out for 9 hours a week, just so that my watch will flash a trophy for me every Monday?!?! Polar, baby. Polar. It's the wave of the future.

After 2 hours spent fiddling with my watch, I started my new book: Everything is Illuminated. I've been meaning to see the movie, and this guy that I might sortof have a crush on told me at a party that the book was even better. So far, so good. One passage in particular made me laugh out loud on the plane. Next on my reading list is some of David Foster Wallace's fiction. From the way Bryan describes his work, it seems like his writing style might be similar to that of Dave Eggers (A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius). But Bryan says DFW has more soul. If his initials were DSW (as in, "Designer Shoe Warehouse"), you could say that his work had "sole". I kept forgetting his name, so I used that as a mnemonic device.

I didn't mention that in between Thanksgiving#2meal and Day-After-Thanksgiving#2 meal, I got a massage from Amy, my oldest friend in the universe. She's a massage therapist by trade, and she'd never actually given me a massage. At Thanksgiving, she offered to drive in from Virginia again on my next trip, specifically to give me a massage at her mom Rosalie's (Rosalie lives in Baltimore, also does massage, and has a table). How sweet is that?! Bonus: she brought my 3-year old cousin-nephew Carter (she'd wanted him to call me Aunt Laura, and I thought that sounded old, so I asked to be called Cousin Laura, so we compromised, and now the kid is thoroughly confused). We jumped on the bed together before my massage. It was tres fun. I also told him all about my pet polar bear, to entice him to visit me.

Does anyone know where I can get a pet polar bear?