Racquetball is all about doing the things our mothers taught us not to: run around the house, scuff the floors and bounce balls off the ceiling and walls. This sport is awesome.
My friend Jessica offered to teach me how to play, and she was sweet enough to sneak me into her gym for my first game. We started off with the basics of the sport, which is kind of like tennis, or for the less athletic, ping pong. Except in this game, instead of hitting the ball over the net, you bounce it off the wall ... or ceiling, or floor - pretty much anything that it runs in to.
I was surprised hitting the ball the first time and seeing how far it can really fly. It's kind of like being in a life-sized pinball machine, with the ball zipping around the room and bouncing off anything it touches.
Soon I began learning the methods to the madness, including how to anticipate where the ball would bounce after hitting certain spots on the walls. But still, my general ungracefulness shined through. Trying to follow where the ball was bouncing probably made me look like a cat watching a moth flying around the house. Not very elegant, but at least it was effective - even if there were those time I would follow the ball, swing and completely miss.
Either way, I soon felt like a real racqueteer (I don't know if that's what they're called, but I like it). Our game was just like I'd seen it played on TV, with loud echos, shoes squeaking, balls slamming against the wall and us grunting like beefcakes. This sport really does bring out the man noises in you (or me, at least). But every now and then the girl would come squealing back, like when a surprise bounce of the ball would leave me throwing my hands in the air and daintily leaping away from it.
All in all, I love racquetball. Not only was it a great workout, but also a fabulous way to take out some stress. I may not have won any games (Jessica is a pretty awesome player - even when she's going easy on me), but that's OK. Being able to hit a ball as hard as I can against the wall is all the satisfaction I need.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
New #20: Dumpster Diving
More than almost anything else in life, I love a good bargain. Maybe it's the hunt for the lowest price that thrills me, or the joy of bringing home bags of booty for a budget price that gets me high. Whatever it is, a good sale is like a drug to me. So you an imagine how the ultimate bargain (i.e. free) found through dumpster diving would be my shopping smack. That is, just as soon as I could get past the fact I'm sifting through garbage to get it.
It seems nasty, going through trash in search of things others have thrown away. But after my first dive into a dumpster, I've realized there's no shame in scavenging. Only a ton of tossed-out treasures that are mine for the taking.
I've been intrigued by dumpster diving ever since one fateful day I was chatting with an elderly man. I was interviewing this 77-year-old at his home for an article, when a beautiful red sculpture on his mantel caught my eye. After telling him how much I liked it, he proudly explained that he'd found that piece while dumpster diving behind Bed, Bath and Beyond. What? I wondered. You can find amazing things like this ... for free? At that moment, it seemed as though the heavens above opened and shined their glorious light on that sculpture. I had found my calling, and my calling was dumpster diving.
As destine as I am to be a diver, breaking into the hobby was a little intimidating - not to mention gross. So for my virgin run, Ben and I decided to take a seemingly clean route and go through the dumpsters outside Colorado State's dorms. It was the last day of school, and all the freshman were throwing away anything they couldn't fit in their cars.
We were nervous, and slightly embarrassed by what we were about to do, so Ben and I first drove a few laps by the dumpsters. Finally, we got out the car and nonchalantly walked up the big, green bins. After a look to our left and our right to make sure no one was looking (and judging us), we climbed the tiers of thegiant trash can to look inside. And what we found was anything but trash.
These kids were throwing away everything! A side table here, a floor length mirror there, even a futon was tossed in the mix. It was a mountain of home goods that apparently weren't good enough for these students. But they were certainly good enough for us.
With so much stuff right at my fingertips, I never literally dove into the dumpster. Yeah, yeah, so maybe I'm not a purist ... yet. But Ben was all about it, scooting his way along the edge toward the center of the dumpster, where he hopped right in to pick things up. I stood by, directing him to everything that caught my eye.
We really wanted this suede futon thrown in there, but soon realized we had no where to put it in our apartment. I wish we had planned ahead and brought a moving van, because I'm sure we could have collected all of thisfurniture and sold it on Craigslist for a pretty penny. But that's for next year.
This year, we walked away with plenty for ourselves. The Apple iHome was the first of our fantastic finds. Plugging it in at home to find that it actually worked like new just added to our elation. In fact, we found loads of electronics, all of which run just fine. Why these kids throw these perfectly good things away, I'll never understand. But after raiding about seven dumpsters, Ben and I had loaded up the car to capacity with our new cargo.
Our final tally was *drum roll please*: the iHome, bottles of Frebreze air freshner, dish soap (my brand), a coat rack, a metal basket, headphones, and a fancy HP printer. We even found the one item we were most hoping for: a stainless steel, totally clean and operating MINI FRIDGE! For beer enthusiasts such as ourselves, it was like striking gold.
Our dumpster diving bounty. No, the beer was not included. But you can see our finds are being put to good use already.
With all of our goodies rescued from landfills and put to use at home, I know we'll be diving for some more deals soon. One man's trash is Sarah's new high.
It seems nasty, going through trash in search of things others have thrown away. But after my first dive into a dumpster, I've realized there's no shame in scavenging. Only a ton of tossed-out treasures that are mine for the taking.
I've been intrigued by dumpster diving ever since one fateful day I was chatting with an elderly man. I was interviewing this 77-year-old at his home for an article, when a beautiful red sculpture on his mantel caught my eye. After telling him how much I liked it, he proudly explained that he'd found that piece while dumpster diving behind Bed, Bath and Beyond. What? I wondered. You can find amazing things like this ... for free? At that moment, it seemed as though the heavens above opened and shined their glorious light on that sculpture. I had found my calling, and my calling was dumpster diving.
As destine as I am to be a diver, breaking into the hobby was a little intimidating - not to mention gross. So for my virgin run, Ben and I decided to take a seemingly clean route and go through the dumpsters outside Colorado State's dorms. It was the last day of school, and all the freshman were throwing away anything they couldn't fit in their cars.
We were nervous, and slightly embarrassed by what we were about to do, so Ben and I first drove a few laps by the dumpsters. Finally, we got out the car and nonchalantly walked up the big, green bins. After a look to our left and our right to make sure no one was looking (and judging us), we climbed the tiers of the
These kids were throwing away everything! A side table here, a floor length mirror there, even a futon was tossed in the mix. It was a mountain of home goods that apparently weren't good enough for these students. But they were certainly good enough for us.
With so much stuff right at my fingertips, I never literally dove into the dumpster. Yeah, yeah, so maybe I'm not a purist ... yet. But Ben was all about it, scooting his way along the edge toward the center of the dumpster, where he hopped right in to pick things up. I stood by, directing him to everything that caught my eye.
We really wanted this suede futon thrown in there, but soon realized we had no where to put it in our apartment. I wish we had planned ahead and brought a moving van, because I'm sure we could have collected all of this
This year, we walked away with plenty for ourselves. The Apple iHome was the first of our fantastic finds. Plugging it in at home to find that it actually worked like new just added to our elation. In fact, we found loads of electronics, all of which run just fine. Why these kids throw these perfectly good things away, I'll never understand. But after raiding about seven dumpsters, Ben and I had loaded up the car to capacity with our new cargo.
Our final tally was *drum roll please*: the iHome, bottles of Frebreze air freshner, dish soap (my brand), a coat rack, a metal basket, headphones, and a fancy HP printer. We even found the one item we were most hoping for: a stainless steel, totally clean and operating MINI FRIDGE! For beer enthusiasts such as ourselves, it was like striking gold.
Our dumpster diving bounty. No, the beer was not included. But you can see our finds are being put to good use already.
With all of our goodies rescued from landfills and put to use at home, I know we'll be diving for some more deals soon. One man's trash is Sarah's new high.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
New #19: Eat at a Middle Eastern Restaurant
Like many other Americans, I've never found myself craving Middle Eastern food - probably because I've never had the opportunity to try it. So tonight, without anything appealing to eat in my own kitchen, I decided to finally try some of this curious cuisine at a restaurant I've passed 1,000 times but never set food inside. Al Salam, as it's called, is kind of a hole in the wall that's best known in town for advertising belly dancing on Friday nights. But in the true spirit of new, I took Ben and decided to grab a bite.
The first steps inside were just as intimidating as the restaurant's outer appearance, starting with the angry looking man (who we later learned was from Kuwait) there to "greet" us.
"Your shoes," he said with a thick Arabic accent, his finger pointing at our feet. "Take them off."
Not wanting to make this guy mad, we quickly obliged and put our kicks in their own little cubbies by the door. Once we were down to our socks, the stern, scary man led us to our table. (I later found out he was actually the owner and chef standing in for the hostess, so maybe customer service just wasn't his strong suite.)
The dining room seemed to capture an essence of the Middle East, which I'm sure is hard to come by in Colorado. There were some things I might have stereotypically expected to find, like brass hookahs and ceramic camels displayed on the walls. But it also offered more about the region, including beautiful red rugs on the floor and framed photos of colossal buildings and scenic landscapes that I never envisioned as part of the area before.
Beyond Sarah stuffing her face, you can see what it was like in the restaurant.
Even the tables themselves added some intrigue. They didn't come higher than my shins, and instead of chairs there were cushy pillows on the ground for us to sit on. This positioning was a little difficult for Ben, who just a few days ago tore a ligament in his knee (whoops). But once we were situated, it actually proved to be quite comfortable.
My wonderment with the place just kept coming as soon as I opened the menu. Everything looked so good! There were meats of all kinds, gyros, falafels and things I couldn't even pronounce that sounded great. Plus, everything seemed to come with hummus and pita bread, two of my favorite foods in the wide world.
Ben and I finally decided on a meat combo medley that seemed to have a bit of everything. It started with babaghanouj, which was just as much fun to say as scrumptious as it was to eat. Oh, and one of the best parts was that instead of forks, we were encouraged to just use the pita bread to scoop everything up. I love a meal where I can eat everything, including the utensils. These are my kind of people. The meat entree was great, too, which we enjoyed drenched in a yummy cucumber sauce.
The camera phone does not do my meat plate justice.
All the while, Arabic dance music played in the background that had us bobbing our heads as we sat cross-legged on the floor eating our unpronounceable food with pita bread. If it weren't for my blond hair, you would have sworn I was a Middle Easterner myself.
Sarah of Arabia.
To finish off our flavorful foreign food, we ordered a serving of baklava. Let me just say, I lava baklava. It was absolutely heavenly, the kind of food that makes you uncontrollably mutter "ymmmmmm" as you chew. I've had the dessert before, but never tasted it made so perfectly wonderful. If I don't return to the restaurant for anything else, I know I will be back for some baklava bliss.
The first steps inside were just as intimidating as the restaurant's outer appearance, starting with the angry looking man (who we later learned was from Kuwait) there to "greet" us.
"Your shoes," he said with a thick Arabic accent, his finger pointing at our feet. "Take them off."
Not wanting to make this guy mad, we quickly obliged and put our kicks in their own little cubbies by the door. Once we were down to our socks, the stern, scary man led us to our table. (I later found out he was actually the owner and chef standing in for the hostess, so maybe customer service just wasn't his strong suite.)
The dining room seemed to capture an essence of the Middle East, which I'm sure is hard to come by in Colorado. There were some things I might have stereotypically expected to find, like brass hookahs and ceramic camels displayed on the walls. But it also offered more about the region, including beautiful red rugs on the floor and framed photos of colossal buildings and scenic landscapes that I never envisioned as part of the area before.
Beyond Sarah stuffing her face, you can see what it was like in the restaurant.Even the tables themselves added some intrigue. They didn't come higher than my shins, and instead of chairs there were cushy pillows on the ground for us to sit on. This positioning was a little difficult for Ben, who just a few days ago tore a ligament in his knee (whoops). But once we were situated, it actually proved to be quite comfortable.
My wonderment with the place just kept coming as soon as I opened the menu. Everything looked so good! There were meats of all kinds, gyros, falafels and things I couldn't even pronounce that sounded great. Plus, everything seemed to come with hummus and pita bread, two of my favorite foods in the wide world.
Ben and I finally decided on a meat combo medley that seemed to have a bit of everything. It started with babaghanouj, which was just as much fun to say as scrumptious as it was to eat. Oh, and one of the best parts was that instead of forks, we were encouraged to just use the pita bread to scoop everything up. I love a meal where I can eat everything, including the utensils. These are my kind of people. The meat entree was great, too, which we enjoyed drenched in a yummy cucumber sauce.
The camera phone does not do my meat plate justice. All the while, Arabic dance music played in the background that had us bobbing our heads as we sat cross-legged on the floor eating our unpronounceable food with pita bread. If it weren't for my blond hair, you would have sworn I was a Middle Easterner myself.
Sarah of Arabia. To finish off our flavorful foreign food, we ordered a serving of baklava. Let me just say, I lava baklava. It was absolutely heavenly, the kind of food that makes you uncontrollably mutter "ymmmmmm" as you chew. I've had the dessert before, but never tasted it made so perfectly wonderful. If I don't return to the restaurant for anything else, I know I will be back for some baklava bliss.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
New #18: Fly a Kite
Kites have been flying all around my life recently. This past weekend there was a kiting festival up the street from my house, and not too long ago I had the pleasure of watching "The Kite Runner," (which was actually more disturbing than pleasurable, but still a great movie). Needless to say, I took it all as inspiration to take flight myself.
Yes, I have flown a kite before, when I was about 7 years old. So to stay pure in making it a new, I snuck a beer into the park, marking this as the first time I've flown a kite while drinking booze.
The concept of flying one seemed so easy. Just throw the thing in the air and it will catch the wind and gracefully sail away into the sky. Not so. My vague memories of this hobby not being as simple as it should be started coming back as soon as Kim and I got to the park. We tried just tossing our kites in the air, but when they continually just plopped back on the ground I remembered: one must run across the ground to get one's piece of plastic in the air. So run we did.
Sarah running with her uncooperative kite. Try not to laugh.
Even sprinting across the field, my kite did not seem too enthused about getting up in the air. It would catch a little breeze, but then slowly and pathetically droop back to the ground. It was embarrassing. Actually, Kim and I had given up all together, and in our expert kite flying opinions, decided we could catch more wind by driving to the top of a nearby mountain. Seriously, this was our plan. But luckily, before we had to scale any new heights, the kite gods smiled upon us.
All of a sudden, a gust of wind blew into our sails and took them in the air. It was so magical! We could hardly believe they were flying. We still had to maneuver a bit, but instead of running we realized we could just pull on the string to control the kite and keep it afloat. And that's when our little friends in the sky came to life and took on their character in the air.
Happy kites in the sky.
In fact, they had so much personality, we quickly realized how flying a kite is probably much like raising a child - each one is full of their own unique quirks ... and you can't take your eyes off of them without one crashing to the ground.
Kim's kite, which hadSuperman and other super heroes on it, was the more steadfast of the two. It usually just floated in one place, quietly waving it's feet of red streamer through the sky.
Kim flying high.
Mine, on the other hand was the troublemaker. It featured a robot from Yo Gabba Gabba, a TV show that from what I've seen is like crack for kids. And this kite definitely channeled that spirit. It was the first to get in the air, but after just a few minutes of solitary soaring would randomly go on a suicide plunge to the ground. No matter how much I screamed at it and willed it to even out, it almost always crashed head-first into the grass. It made me feel like a bad parent. Also, if I ever dared avert my eyes from the sky, my kite would get my attention again by wrapping itself around Kim's string, sending her baby on a free fall. What a bad robot kite I raised in the air.
Things were going well (above), until Sarah's kite death dropped to the ground (below).
Yet even with all the anxiety that came with trying to keep our crafts airlifted, kite flying was really one of the most relaxing and fun things I've done in a long time. I haven't laughed that hard in a while, even (and sometimes especially) when my kite decided to take a death plunge. I can't wait for the next gusty day to take my rowdy robot kite back into the sky and see what we can learn together.
Yes, I have flown a kite before, when I was about 7 years old. So to stay pure in making it a new, I snuck a beer into the park, marking this as the first time I've flown a kite while drinking booze.
The concept of flying one seemed so easy. Just throw the thing in the air and it will catch the wind and gracefully sail away into the sky. Not so. My vague memories of this hobby not being as simple as it should be started coming back as soon as Kim and I got to the park. We tried just tossing our kites in the air, but when they continually just plopped back on the ground I remembered: one must run across the ground to get one's piece of plastic in the air. So run we did.
Sarah running with her uncooperative kite. Try not to laugh.All of a sudden, a gust of wind blew into our sails and took them in the air. It was so magical! We could hardly believe they were flying. We still had to maneuver a bit, but instead of running we realized we could just pull on the string to control the kite and keep it afloat. And that's when our little friends in the sky came to life and took on their character in the air.
Happy kites in the sky.In fact, they had so much personality, we quickly realized how flying a kite is probably much like raising a child - each one is full of their own unique quirks ... and you can't take your eyes off of them without one crashing to the ground.
Kim's kite, which had
Kim flying high.Mine, on the other hand was the troublemaker. It featured a robot from Yo Gabba Gabba, a TV show that from what I've seen is like crack for kids. And this kite definitely channeled that spirit. It was the first to get in the air, but after just a few minutes of solitary soaring would randomly go on a suicide plunge to the ground. No matter how much I screamed at it and willed it to even out, it almost always crashed head-first into the grass. It made me feel like a bad parent. Also, if I ever dared avert my eyes from the sky, my kite would get my attention again by wrapping itself around Kim's string, sending her baby on a free fall. What a bad robot kite I raised in the air.
Things were going well (above), until Sarah's kite death dropped to the ground (below).
Yet even with all the anxiety that came with trying to keep our crafts airlifted, kite flying was really one of the most relaxing and fun things I've done in a long time. I haven't laughed that hard in a while, even (and sometimes especially) when my kite decided to take a death plunge. I can't wait for the next gusty day to take my rowdy robot kite back into the sky and see what we can learn together.
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