There's No Crying In Auto Racing

As I am sure a lot of you know, Danica Patrick won the Japan 300 on Sunday. This is huge. More than huge. She is the first woman ever to beat men in a man's sport. Surely some women can beat some men at tennis, golf or volleyball. But she beat men in a sport, in which before her, only men participated.

In 2005, when she appeared on the racing scene, as a celebrity figure she was immediately popular. She's beautiful, and the media took advantage of that, and so did she. I don't know if that was clever or degrading. She claimed in yet another interview “I’ve always understood the way it is... there’s so many opportunities I get as a female. Then again, I’m held to a different standard. There’s a flip side to everything. It’s just the price I have to pay.”

I can honestly say I have never more than glanced at a auto race. It's like basketball for me, the only part that is remotely interesting is the last two minutes. When my husband told me she won, I swelled with pride, not necessarily because a woman won, but because the times are truly changing. It will be history to my sons that there was a day when women didn't win Indy car races all the time and there had never been be women or brown people as president.

As amazing as this, in the media, I cannot find one article that does focus on, or merely mention the fact that she cried. Even worse for me is that she is abashed at her behavior after the race. Said to the associated press: "When it actually happened, maybe it was a little anticlimactic," she said. "Then the emotions came out and that was a little girly of me." On an ESPN video interview with a female commentator (Danica Patrick Wins Historic Race) Danica made excuses for herself again. Half of the interview is spent discussing her tears. She appears to be ashamed when she states "I didn't want to cry but I did, those photos will live forever." On the contrary, a male commentator claims (Danica Patrick Wins First Career Victory) "... emotion is what makes sports beautiful ..."

Mark and I discussed this. He claims men cry when the lose (like the big burly man's men who lose the superbowl), and wondered why women cry when they win. I, personally, cry when I am angry. Not very effective, I admit, in a corporate environment. And it's not like tears crying, it's like can't talk crying, my throat closes up. It's really annoying. Anyway, I told him it's really an issue of release of pressure. Danica Patrick had a lot of pressure for six years from the media and from herself to win a race. She knew it would be historic when she did. I would be surprised if she didn't cry.

I suppose for Danica, now that the pressure is off, and the deed is done, and it will only get easier from here. And I suppose the next time she wins, she won't cry.

I'm Backing Up

"I'm backing uuuupp." That was Atticus's first full sentance.

Backing up my PC has become an obsession of mine to the extent that my external hard drive gets full every month or so. I am just paranoid about losing anything. That's because last summer my hard drive crashed. Like Thelma and Louise into the Grand Canyon. I lost everything: email, files and every photo ever taken of my children with a digital camera.

Now Writerscafe.org has tanked and I am paranoid again. I procrastinated about the hard drive. Even when it was grinding like a '73 Chevelle trying to start up, I thought a crash couldn't happen to me. I will not procrastinate backing up this blog.

I found a great website with 10 ways to back up your Blogger blog. I personally went with #4 - free and very very easy. Just in case, I also executed #6. Although I followed the steps, I have no idea what I would do with the data were Blogger to go down.

Sure hope this helps you, too. Cheers.

A Dapper Dan Man

We were sitting in church Sunday before Mass and Mark leaned over. "I am really lucky to have hair. Look..." I looked around, he was right. Most men were bald or balding. To abate this you have implants, toupees, the comb-over, and the latest trend: shaving the whole thing to leave the true status to the imagination. "You are lucky," I replied. He has a full head of dark hair.

"Thank you Lord for the health of my family, my ability to work with my mind and my hands," he said, "and thank you for my hair." I rolled my eyes but laughed internally. He can be so irreverent.

My father has had male pattern baldness from the age of 16, fully bald over the top of his scalp by age 18. I've never known him to be anything but bald. He tried shaving it with a HeadBlade a few years back but that lasted about a month. He said it was just too much work to shave every day. Since allegedly boys get the hair gene from their maternal grandfather, that does not bode well for my boys. According to the Propecia people, 50% of men experience some male pattern baldness by age 50. This statistic is probably skewed a bit, considering the source, but it seems pretty close.

The female equivalent to this conundrum is hair color. Only one woman I know my age does not color her hair, and she has the most beautiful silver hair I have ever seen. To be honest, though, it does make her look older than she is. Is that just a matter of perception? Do those who color their hair look younger than they are? It's an assumption that women in their 30s do not have gray hair. That is not true. Most women in their 30s do have some gray, the definition of "premature gray" being inconsistent. Coloring has become the norm to the extent that those who don't color stand out.

Just as a side note I have no gray hair. My hairdresser has confirmed this, and she has done my hair for 10 years, so she is not lying to protect my vanity. Having said that, I do color my hair. I am a natural blonde. I could prove it, but I will spare you. I have my hair colored a reddish-brown, close to that of my mother's and my younger brother's. Why? Because of the stigma of blond hair. "Dumb blondes," "blondes have more fun," "gentlemen prefer blonds," blonde jokes. I've spent my whole life trying to prove that blondes really can be smart, but I really had to work hard, as pitiful as that is. Again, it's perception. What's really the point of remaining blonde? Only about 5% of women who appear blonde are genetically so. I would just fall into line with the rest of the herd.

It's been said before that a man's gray hair only makes him look more sophisticated. I should add that I think maybe some would say that baldness would detract from that look of sophistication. At my 20-year high school reunion last summer I found that the women looked great, and the men... not so much. Maybe it's the fat bald guy thing. The not-fat, not-bald guys were the ones who stood out. Mostly my hubby, thick hair arranged sloppily with hair glue.

The Needs of the Few

You know when you get into a television show, find a new perfect eyeshadow color, or even a pair of jeans that fits just right? What happens? It gets discontinued. Well, that has happened to me, but with an airline. My favorite airline, Skybus, is dead. In researching for this story I am totally impressed with Wikipedia for having already updated their definition. Skybus was a small, low-cost carrier based in Columbus, OH (very convenient for me). My sister-in-law actually flew to Seattle, Boston and Florida for $10.

I am very egocentric to say Skybus was great. It was great for me. I am 30 minutes to the airport in Columbus (door to door) and 15 minutes from my Dad's near St. Augustine (door to door). My dad had his stroke on a Thursday. I was at the hospital by 8am Friday. I was planning on going to see him again on the 18th of April. Those plans are dashed as I was going for the weekend and by the time I pay $350 to get there (maybe) with one stop, and one hour back and forth for my stepmom to pick me up in Jacksonville, I'd get to spend maybe an hour with my dad.

It is said that you can call your credit card company and get your money back. That's just money. Isn't there a time in your life when your time becomes more important than money? So here we are, back to flying into Orlando, which from Columbus, OH is the least expensive and closest city to my dad with a direct flight.

I took Asian History in college, and the professor did actually say one thing that has stuck with me all this time. "Technology has made the world monumentally smaller." The space between me and my dad just got monumentally bigger.

Wimpy, Dainty, It's All the Same

My husband called me from the car yesterday and said he had something to tell me. I was running out the door, so I told him to call back between meetings. When we finally hooked up he said, "Do you concede that Obama is the frontrunner?"

"Yes," I replied sadly, "yes."

"Well, I you should think hard before you vote for him."

"Why?" I replied in monotone, thinking he was going to mock me about some Democrat vs Republican issue that divides the country and our household.

"He was recently in Altoona, Pennsylvania..." Oh, boy, here we go "... and he bowled a 37.

"What?" I asked, taken completely off-guard.

"Bowling, like at a bowling alley."

"Where did you hear that?" I said, feeling somewhat defensive. I average about 90 myself.

"They were talking about it on Morning Joe . Joe [Scarborough] and Willie [Geist] said that Obama's bowling was "dainty" and they would expect at least a 150 out of their president. I agree."

What does bowling have to do with being president? Oh, never mind. "Yeah, that's funny."

I would only like to point out, Dear Reader, that in my controversial post Non-Political Controversy , I referred to Obama as "a little wimpy for me." I wonder if Hillary can bowl a 150, not to mention John McCain.

Diary of a Wednesday

Disclaimer:

I am committed to not be what I call a "journal blogger." A lot of people post for the purposes of keeping a daily record of the events in their life. That's fine. I appreciate that, but I personally don't have the time to sift through all of their "Took my dog to the vet..." to find a particularly funny or poingnant tale. Having said that I think the run-down of my day yesterday might be interesting and telling. If not to you, to me.

Prologue:
This is what my calendar looks like, color-coded for each family member:




7:00-7:30 Shower (you may know how rare a shower for me is at my home home. Usually, if I get one it's at the gym)

8:00 Take Charlie to school

8:30-8:45 Parking lot duty

8:45 Atticus to school (to be fair, it's the same school at which I did parking lot duty)

9:00-11:30 Volunteer at Max's PDO (don't get me wrong, I don't mind changing diapers, just not diapers of other people's kids)

11:30-11:45 Chat with Atticus's teacher outside of the restroom ("I wouldn't say Atticus has bad days, he's just Atticus")

12:00 Lunch from Wendy's in the car for Max and me

12:30 Pick up Atticus from lunch bunch

12:45-1:30 Atticus's first gymnastics class (Check it out: in the morning I actually had the foresight to put shorts on underneath his pants)

2:00 Attempt to get Max to nap (no luck); fold one load of clothes

2:50 Pick up Charlie

2:50-3:15 Kids play on the playground (Come on, it's the first day since the blizzard that it's been clear enough and warm enough); friend informs me enrollment for SUMMER SWIM PASSES started two weeks ago

4:00-4:30 Desparately rush to register online for swim passes (whew, they were still available)

4:30 Determine that Charlie has no homework, so I have time to go to the bathroom

5:00 Start dinner while yelling at Charlie and Atticus to get their shin guards and soccer shoes on

5:15 Serve a disgusting dinner of tasteless grilled chicken breasts, microwave mashed potatoes and frozen mixed vegetables

6:00-6:30 Dishes from all day, straighten strewn book bags, coats, shoes, toys, and laundry (yes, it was my bright idea to bring the unfolded laundry up to the living room to avoid Out-of-Sight-Out-of-Mind Syndrome)

6:30-7:15 Stepmom calls to give me the weekly update on my dad's progress (he had a stroke six weeks ago, and even the doctors say his progress is phenomenal)

7:15 Max's bath

7:30 Mark, Charlie and Atticus come home ("Cyn, can you give them their bath tonight, I am really behind on the bills?")

8:30 All kids in bed ("Cyn, can you help me reconcile these bills?")

8:31 I inform Mark that I will stop helping him at precisely 8:59 to catch American Idol

9:30-10:30 American Idol (thank goodness for DVR)

I don't remember anything after than until the alarm went off this morning.