Lions and Vultures and Fathers Oh My!
In my continuing quest to roll back the sands of time and beat the unbeatable force of age and gravity, I have realized that as a devoted Husband and Father of two I have strayed from the evolutionary force that drives all us primates. Hunting and gathering our food is the way we sustain life. These days I have found my station more likened to that of a Vulture than a Lion. I can scarcely say I lead my pride and my meals are scavenged from the scraps left behind. That has its positives and negatives. The reality of a busy life raising children is that you don’t have time to sit down much less prepare yourself a meal. This statement is clearly in opposition to my prior post, but being busy isn’t always the same as being at work. Yes, the domestic duties that fill my daily “to do” list keep me busy, but I can’t say that I find them so unpleasant as to call them “work”. Funny thing. It is my personality to equate work with the negative. Should have followed my passions to find a career path rather than leaning on those things that come naturally to me. It is those folks that make a career out of what they truly love that find “work” to be positive. I have had this conversation with my wife on multiple occasions, and I have boiled mankind to three types of people . . . Those that live to work (my wife), Those that work to live (ME), and bums. I by no means intend this to be a slight to those that make a living tending to their families. It is a job, and a thankless one at that, but in my vocabulary I can’t call it work because I don’t affix this negative sentiment. Perhaps that is because THIS is what I love to do? Haven’t fully grasped the gravity of that statement, but I will figure it out in the end. As my father recently pointed out, writing and painting are work as well. Again, maybe I don’t feel it to be work as it is something I love to do. Maybe in the end I am changing from the Work to Live type to the Live to Work category.
Back to the subject at hand . . . the dietary negatives of a relatively full dance card are simply an inconvenience that leads one to pick at the remaining scraps at the table while the plates are being cleared. That is a scavenger at work by necessity. The bigger failing in this way of life is that (and I am sure most Fathers can attest to this) my family treats me like a human garbage disposal. Anything that isn’t finished, I am asked if I want it. Often times we feel obligated to consume the scraps even after we have had our own meal out of a disgust for waste. In this way, I am fighting back. I have decided to adapt this Vulture mentality into my quest for fitness. I actually no longer fix myself a plate. I sit with the family and chat about our days and enjoy the meal time experience without actually eating. When the meal is finished, I simply pick at the carcass as I begin clearing the table. In the end, I get the nourishment I need in a smaller package without the belt busting consequences. I don’t know why any fitness gurus haven’t figured this one out, but maybe I am destined for a second career competing with Richard Simmons without having to sweat to the oldies. Yes, I am aware that this post is all over the board a bit, but I am tired and my head is bursting at the seams with random thoughts that I feel compelled to jot down without any reflection or editing.
My final rant for the evening will be a simple statement about French Television . . . it SUCKS. We don’t watch a lot of television, but there is an occasion even in my life that I have a want to just sit for a moment and stare at meaningless entertainment with my mouth agape and Cheetoh stains on my t-shirt. We don’t subscribe to any satellite programming anymore as we found that we didn’t watch enough television to warrant the cost and the quality of that programming even at the elevated price was less than spectacular. That being said, we are now confined to the 18 channels that we get from the antenna on the house . . . Old School. Most French programming is political in nature and the format makes it unbearable to watch. It is usually just a couple of people sitting around chatting about current events. That isn’t bad in short bursts and I like a good news program as much as the next guy, but sitting around for 4 hours (yeah, 4 freaking hours) rehashing the day’s events is a bit tedious to watch. There are pockets of Anglo friendly programming that I tune to when times get desperate. My favorites . . . what I call my “must see TV” are as follows: Hannah Montana (version original), Friends (version original) and the Fresh Prince (dubbed in French, but a riot to listen to). The other American offering that I have access to is South Park (dubbed in French). I don’t care for it in English and watching in French makes me want to put a bullet in my head. Dubbing over the voices absolutely kills the program. I would rather see them with English audio and French subtitles. That is an interesting thing you will notice in the states when you encounter a foreign film. It will have original audio and subtitles in English. The only dubbing you see is on Kung Fu Theatre and to be honest, despite my distaste for voice over, I wouldn’t have that any other way. For a culture so clearly lacking in programming, I would think they would embrace more modern programming and take it as it comes adding French subtitles to make sense of it all. After all, Hollywood pays these freaking actors a fortune to play these parts, and the sound of their voice is a big part of it. Arnold saying “I’ll be back” wouldn’t be the same if it weren’t “Arnold” saying it. That is the way I feel about the dubbed programs. I understand enough of it these days to watch and understand, but listening to a French guy trying to do Will Smith (funny though it is) is still a little like nails on a chalk board.
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