Sigh, I'm Normal

  I measured my wingspan today. Seventy-one inches. Or, just a bit longer than my height, which is what it should be. I was secretly hoping to find out my wingspan was like 6’ 6”, and I could lament the fact that if only I’d known sooner, I’d be in the NBA right now. As if a freakish wingspan is what’s been keeping me from pro basketball glory and not my height, lack of desire (or work ethic) and the fact that my shot is as flat as a midwestern girl’s hair. Before the measurement I wanted to learn that I had either an especially wide chest or comically long arms, praying for the latter. But neither is true.
  Having a massive wingspan is to your benefit when you get to the NBA. For example, Kevin Durant is 6’ 10”, but his wingspan is close to 7’ 5”. Every scouting report on Durant mentions his wingspan; it’s something that defines him as a player. I think this could explain why people say that someone “plays bigger” than they are. Like I’m 5’ 9”, but I play like I’m 5’ 11”. My length really frustrates 4th graders.
  I need to figure out what makes me unique. And I don’t want to hear, “your sparkling personality” or “you just ooze masculinity”, because we both know neither is true. Also, when looking for unique characteristics, they need to be quantifiable. Like you can point to Kevin Durant and say “the dude’s hands nearly scrape the floor when he walks”, or that Michael Phelps can touch his toes to the ground with his legs flat against the floor (truthfully).
  What have I got going for me besides the fact that I’ve lost all feeling in one of toes (which is not something people can easily recognize)? I need something like laser beam eyes; something people can acknowledge about me right away. Something I can bring up in job interviews: My strengths? The ability to shoot lasers from my ocular glands. Weakness? I’ve cried during the movie “Love Actually”.
  Maybe I’m not that normal.

What Did We Learn Today?

  I might be a bit overly cautious.

  It took 47 minutes, but I feel pretty confident that no one will be able to use my old credit card. But just to be on the safe side, I'm going to spread the clippings out over several weeks in various receptacles, in separate zip codes.

  And I'll probably flush a few pieces down the toilet. You never know who might be tailing me.

  True story: I had to put a glove on my cutting hand because the scissors were hurting my hand.

What Did We Learn Today?

  That I’m developing a man crush on Seymour Hersh.
  At work we’re allowed to listen to music. Well, most people listen to music, I listen to public radio. When a preview came on for Fresh Air saying that Seymour Hersh would be on the show, I literally did the fist pump that Tiger Woods does after he sinks a crucial putt. I was so excited that I rearranged my work so that I wouldn’t have to leave my desk and made sure to take a bathroom break before the show started.
  Unfortunately, Hersh threw a lot of cold water on the “executive assassination ring” remark he’d made during a debate at the University of Minnesota. But still, Seymour Hersh; that dude’s all right.

They're Just Like Us!

  On the cover of one of those gossip magazines (I can’t remember if it was Celebrity Stalker Quarterly or Shouldn’t You be Worrying About More Important Things?) is a big picture of Jennifer Aniston and some quote about how she’s going to raise her baby as a single mom. I can’t remember the exact quote, because I was at the grocery store and more concerned with whether the ice cream I bought was going to go straight to my hips or my butt. Forget that I didn’t know Jen Aniston was pregnant, nor do I particularly care.
  I’d like to see one of those “Stars are Just Like Us” segments that states: They raise their children as a single parent! And: Over half their marriages end in divorce too! In the article on Aniston, I doubt it says that she’ll be moving back in with her parents and working full time while going to school in order to create a better life for her child. So excuse me for not having any sympathy for a successful Hollywood actress who’s made the choice to raise her child without the father. As much as the magazines and the public try to pretend that celebrities are like normal people, it’s just not true.
  I bet the article also tries to paint Aniston as an empathetic figure. Here she is, trying to bring a child into the world and that dastardly John Mayer runs off. Is he afraid of commitment? Does he really love her? Shouldn’t we instead be worried about the recession? How ever will she survive on her own, raising her child in a Beverly Hills mansion with her millions of dollars and ability to afford round-the-clock personal child care? She’s so strong!

  It's amazing that for many the housing crisis didn't resonate until Ed McMahon appeared on Larry King and explained how his own home was foreclosed on. People were calling in asking what they could do to help Ed McMahon! The neighbor down the street whose wife and three children are being put out on the street? We can't be bothered by them. Not when the Publisher's Clearing House guy has is so much harder.

  So by all means, let's give our sympathy to all the celebrities who have similar problems to us regular folk, except that they have enough money to cure their ails. I'm sure they toss and turn at night in their thousand dollar sheets and wonder whether five million is enough to make it through the next few months or whether they should cancel their vacation to the south of France. 

  Just like the rest of us.

Cut Off the Toe Despite the Foot

  I’m convinced that I’m going to lose a toe. Probably soon. It’s not that big a deal, really; I’m already over it. Whenever my feet get cold (which is frequently) I lose feeling in the middle toe on my right foot. And feeling doesn’t return until long after the rest of my toes have warmed up. Once, taking my socks off, I noticed that just my toe had lost all color, while the rest of my toes and foot were a healthy, fleshy hue. But such is life, right?
  Since I’ve moved on, I’ve already begun to look at the positives of losing a toe. Sure, it’s easy to point out the negatives: It’d be weird to wear sandals (but I don’t anyway); playing “footsie” could be a bit awkward; and I can never be a feet model. I still have one handsome foot. Ok, that’s a lie. Our soccer goalie in high school referred to me and a teammate as Frodo and Bilbo. From the Lord of the Rings. We both had hairy feet. Anyway.
  One of the positives is that I always have a good conversation starter. I think everything sounds better with “since I lost my toe” included. For example: “Since I lost my toe, I’ve found that I’m limping a bit more on my right side.” Or: “I think the treasury’s plan to bail out the same bankers who got us in this mess is outrageous. And that’s not just since I lost my toe.” Of course, I’ll need to come up with a better story when people ask how I lost my toe. It can’t be as simple as losing all feeling in it. I think there should be a hawk involved. But how?
  Losing a toe seems like it’ll be a momentous time in my life, right up there with the day I get married and the day I lose my virginity (hopefully!). I’ve decided to think of things in terms of whether they happened “before toe” (BT) or “after digit loss” (ADL). So while my birth took place in BT, my own children’s birth will most assuredly take place in the ADL era.
  It’s not as if I’m losing an important digit. Missing a finger or a big toe would create much more of imposition in my life. But the middle toe is sort of like the appendix; you don’t really need it and when it’s gone you end up with a neat scar. I wonder if the rest of my toes will grow closer together, or if I’ll have a gap there forever. Think about how cool it’d be if I got good at dropping knives into the space in my foot. I bet my other toes would compensate and I’d end up with four really buff toes that mock those wimpy five digits on my left foot.
  There could be a lot of upside to me losing a toe. Maybe I should get a head start. And what if I was missing two toes?