Boston Health and Fitness Expo

This weekend, I worked the Lung Cancer Alliance booth at the Boston Health and Fitness Expo. It was inspiring, enlightening and exasperating, all at once.

It's a free event so there are a fair number of punters looking for swag. The crowd was... definitely an interesting cross section of America. That being said, there were actually quite a few people who were both interested in and touched by what we had to say and I think the whole endeavor was 100% worth it.

Some observations from the weekend:

It's the Lung Cancer Alliance, not the Smoking Cessation Alliance

Roughly one fifth of the people who walked up to our table said something like "I quit smoking last year" or "My dad still smokes. I wish he didn't."

For them, lung cancer equals smoking. The two are synonymous.

With those people, I tried to explain that that 60% of those diagnosed with lung cancer either never smoked or quit smoking decades ago, and that only 10% of smokers get lung cancer and that 20% of women who get lung cancer never touched a cigarette.

It got repetitive, but I didn't mind. They didn't know the facts about lung cancer, and I was able to enlighten them a little bit.

A Safe Haven

Some people would walk by the booth and inch closer, with an interested, even misty-eyed look on their faces. They had clearly been touched by lung cancer. For some, our booth became a solace, a safe and comfortable place where family members could talk about their loved ones who had passed on from or survived lung cancer.

Anyone who's ever been touched by lung cancer knows that it doesn't always elicit a warm and fuzzy response. You always run the risk of getting "the look" - the "she must have smoked so therefore she brought it upon herself" look.

90% of the time, they'll come right out and ask, "Did he/she smoke?" But when you're talking with another person about the very painful experience of losing your parent, spouse, sibling or friend, you really don't want to engage in a discussion about assigning blame. You just want sympathy, like anyone else who's lost a loved one. If you were talking about losing your dad to heart disease, you wouldn't want to immediately answer questions regarding how many steaks or doughnuts he ate, or how many cigarettes he smoked. It's the same for us. And at the Lung Cancer Alliance booth, we understood that. We've all been asked that question, so we know not to even go there, unless someone wants to. We were a safe haven.

The Very Informed

I was surprised and happy to see how informed so many people who stopped by to sign our Lung Cancer Mortality Reduction Act Petition were.

I'd start my schpeil about how lung cancer needs more money for research and several people grabbed for the pen to sign the petition right away and said things like "Damn right it does" or "You know it!" This was surprising and uplifting to see.

No Survivors

Interestingly, I didn't meet one new lung cancer survivor in the entire two day experience. Not one. The only people who came up to our booth who'd been touched by lung cancer were the friends and family members of lung cancer patients, most of whom had passed.

One Jerk

Finally, although there were a large amount of freaks and downright lunatics, no one really bothered me except for one man. He badgered me and badgered me about the statistics, questioning the smoking thing and ultimately he got personal, questioning whether I'd done an autopsy on my mother, along with other completely insensitive and inane questions. I had to ask him to leave because he upset me so much.

But in spite of that one bad apple, the event was totally worth it. We reached a lot of people who'd never heard the facts about the disease, and a good deal of others who've been affected by lung cancer but rarely feel as though they have an outlet or a place to turn to.

That felt good.

R.I.P., Farrah

Farrah Fawcett was an incredible woman. She transcended "Jiggle TV" and Charlie's Angels to become one of those iconic survivors ... and then she was hit with cancer.

She survived that until she couldn't survive it any longer - and she shared every grueling moment with us.

I loved her for that.

She used her celebrity to share her most intimate struggles and moments with us and in doing so, she became not Farrah Fawcett the sexy pin-up girl with the delectable smile and pert physique. She became Farrah from California, the cancer patient, the cancer survivor, and now, the cancer angel.

Thanks for sharing your beautiful spirit with us Farrah.

My friend Lori Hope wrote a beautiful blog post that everyone should read. Go and check it out.

Good Times!

Every Tuesday night in the summer, there's a super-fun 5K race series in Lowell called Good Times! Their logo, which also doubles as their "medals" in the form of coasters, is above.

I found out about the race series last year from my friend Mike, who I met at another 5K in Lowell, Lisa's Run for Lung Cancer.

Mike's intensely into running - so much so that even though I beat him in that first 5K when we met, in the year and a half since, he has surpassed me to a level that I will probably never reach.

I can't seem to break 25 minutes. Mike is now in the 22s, I believe. And he's older than me! Granted, he's taller than me. Much taller. And he's male. And has the typical runner's build. But still.

But one thing Mike does that I don't? He works at it. I mean he really works at it. I just show up and hope that osmosis is going to take my time down below 25 minutes. It sort of worked that way when I went from 27 minute times to 25 minute times. But I think my luck has run out. I need to do some good, hard work. And I'll do it. When I'm good and ready.

But the Good Times race series is so much fun because they have silly themes that people really get into.

Last week, at about the 1 mile mark, there were ten 12" X 12" boxes that were all empty - except one mystery box that held $100. If you were brave enough (and if there were any boxes left), you could grab a box and carry it the remaining 2.1 miles to take a chance on winning the loot.

Now, you might think it's a no brainer, that of course you'd take the money and run. But with so few boxes, only the fastest runners get there first - and those fast runners are pretty competitive people who don't want to ruin their times. For them, that choice is a struggle. That's why the race is actually called "The Temptation 5K."

By the time I got to the 1 mile mark, all of the boxes were gone, so I didn't have that struggle. But I know what my choice would have been: Screw the box! I can barely carry myself, let alone a bulky box!

The woman who won is actually a very cool woman who I've met many times and I couldn't have imagined the $100 going to a better person.

Next week is Classic T-shirt week, whatever that means to you, and they'll be giving out prizes for the best t-shirts.

After the races, everyone hangs out for cheap beer and $1 pizza and the gazillions of raffle prizes on offer.

I never really thought I was going to be the kind of person who did 5K races every Tuesday night. In my early twenties, with martini in hand, teetering on 4-inch stilettos, I would have blown smoke in your face and laughed.

But as we age, our priorities change. I really love this series, even though I'll never win. But the great thing is, they give prizes if you beat yourself, if you obtain a personal record (PR, in running terms.)

My PR for the 5K is 25:04. At some point this summer, I will do 24:59. I just might have to work at it a bit...

Age Defiance

When I was 20, I got a job working for an extremely glamorous writer in London. She was hugely successful, fabulous with a capital F and she NEVER told anyone her age.

Her D.O.B. was a carefully guarded secret, and being her assistant, I was one of the privileged few who knew the real date.

Now to make things clear, this woman did not look her age. She had incredible skin and had a sort of "indeterminate" age.

When we met, she was 36. I think she wanted people to presume she was around 28. She was a newspaper columnist, and I think it was more impressive to appear to be as perceptive and brilliant in her late twenties than it would have been to be in her mid thirties. Plus, men prefer younger women and she loved men.

To me, though, it always seemed kind of silly. Age is one of those things that, while you can try to hide it, it's easy to figure out - or at least to guestimate.

Once people start talking about their lives, anyone can do the math and say, oh, she must be about X age. To learn that someone lied about it just makes them look vain and sort of sad. Worse, to learn that someone won't talk about it, just makes you want to know it more.

I've always looked younger than I am. If I wanted to pretend I was 7 or 8 years younger, I easily could. But I think that would be a lot of work.

What if people from my past meet the people from my present? I'd be called out as a liar. Plus, I love the look I get when people realize I'm older than they thought I was. It gives me a charge. It makes me smile.

Also, I don't want to live in some weird bubble where I'm in constant denial of my own real age and the aging process. I've always been a fan of acting one's age (most of the time) and I like milestones, comings of age, the maturation process.

I am lucky to look young (for now) so I do put some effort into preserving my youthful looks, but I don't want to wake up one day thinking I've been 29 for 15 years with the harsh reality that I'm actually pushing 50.

Also, because I've known so many people with cancer and know so many others who've lost their lives to cancer, I truly think that we should all celebrate each birthday with as much gratitude as we can.

In about 3 weeks, I'm going to be 35. It sort of feels weird to see it in print, but it's the truth. God willing, I'll live to be 95. That's my goal. But if not, I want to cherish every moment, every year and enjoy myself as I age.

I remember being 15 and having a complete consciousness that "Julia of 35" was going to be different from "Julia of 15" and I wondered, "What would Julia of 35 think of Julia of 15?"

I think she was a pretty awesome 15 year-old. She was wise beyond her years, talented, smart, loving, insecure sometimes and arrogant at others, but she was coming into her own.

And I wonder what Julia of 60 will think of Julia at 35. I hope she likes her. I'm pretty sure she will.

Family Time

One definite perk of moving back home to the East Coast after 11 years in LA is that I get to feel connected with my past, my heritage, my family, etc.

This week was filled with events and coincidences that couldn't have happened if I still lived in LA.

On Thursday, my cousin needed to talk to me about some important issues in his life. He and I are one month apart. In fact, I'm the older one by about 5 weeks, although he's about 4 times my size and has been since birth. Anyway, when he needed the ear of someone who's known him a while, but isn't too wrapped up in his day-to-day life, I was there. I happened to be just a few towns over from where he was, so it was easy to get to him. We spent the night reminiscing and catching up... something we haven't done in years.

Yesterday, I went to a wedding with my mom's old friend from high school. The wedding was for the daughter of my mom's other school friend, so there were a few people from their home town of Beverly, MA.

First, I met a very nice man named Bobo. He's the widowed husband of my mom's old friend Marilyn Monroe (that's honestly her name - and she was born before Marilyn was famous, so it's just a coincidence.) In addition, there was a woman named Kathy who happened to be the widow of a man named Everett, who apparently was great friends with my dad. She said she'd been to my parents wedding in 1973. She could actually remember when the wedding was. And she asked me "Is your dad still so cute?" Hmm. Well, yes. Of course!

Later that night, I wound up at the Italian American Club in Beverly, MA, to see my mom's friend's son perform. That place is such a throwback! People were actually smoking indoors and I saw haircuts I haven't seen since 1979. I also saw my mom's first cousin Patrick, someone I haven't seen in about 10 years.

Pat was one of my mom's favorites, and he was a lot like her. Brilliant, somewhat misunderstood, a loner with a mind of diamonds.

Apparently he was top of his class in high school, but he went to Vietnam and like a lot of men in his situation, life wasn't as easy after that. If I had been a boy, would have been named Patrick and I'm sure he had something to do with that.

It was nice bumping into him and it reminded me that it feels good to be home.

Part of what I loved about living in LA was creating my own "home," my own family out of friends. I had "cousins" Mary and Marty, Tasha, Drew, Mike, Liz and Nancy. But they weren't my actual family, the one you don't choose. They were the family I chose. And being 3,000 miles away, I never randomly ran into distant (or not so distant) cousins.

Now that I'm hitting my mid-thirties, it's nice to be more "family-oriented" as they say. Hey, it might not last forever, but it's good to reconnect with everyone, remember my roots, so to speak.

But... I still miss cousin Marty and Mary and Tasha Drew, Nancy Liz and Mike and can't wait to see them mid-August! A different kind of family reunion...

Text Offenders

As some of my friends know, I have several pet peeves. One of them is bare feet at weddings. The other is bare feet on car dashboards.

The third has nothing to do with feet, and everything to do with respect. Pls don't cancel via txt. Kthxbai.

It's happened to me a few times and it always shrieks of cowardice and an utter lack of respect. It usually happens close to the time of the appointed meeting, the person knows they're in the wrong, and they either can't be bothered to call you or don't want to deal with hearing the sound of your actual disappointment - or possibly even upsetness - so they just fire off a text instead.

It's ultimate passive aggression... or passive complacency, at least.

This happened to me yesterday, and I will not disclose the name of the text offender, but after canceling me via text 5 hours before our appointed dinner date, she didn't call to make sure I got the text, even after I never responded during those 5 hours.

Ten minutes before our date, I called to say I was running 5 minutes late and would be right there. Her response? "Oh, didn't you get my text?"

Um, no. I didn't.

She wasn't coming to dinner and I'd rushed out of a meeting to make our dinner date. Not only that, this was the rescheduling of a previous dinner date that she'd canceled via text, and knowing she'd be coming to my condo, I also had spent the morning before work readying it for company.

To her defense (only a little bit) I just got a new Blackberry and it puts the texts and emails together (which is annoying and something I have to fix) but I was aware of this and knowing she's a texter, I checked my phone repeatedly before, during and after my meeting. Somehow I still missed the text. And she never called to verify I'd received it.

I will say that the said text offender is younger than me by over 10 years, so there's definitely a generational thing going on. Clearly no one ever taught her proper phone, text and appointment etiquette. I think that those kind of manners are left untaught today. Parents don't know enough about technology to instill texting values in the young, and they apparently don't teach this kind of thing in schools.

The sad thing is that she might not have meant to be offensive. In her world, maybe everyone's a text offender.

But in my world, it just annoying.

Summer Fridays

Sometimes, people ask me if I miss being a freelance journalist. Today, I can say with total confidence "NO!"

I work a 9-5 job at a great company, the kind of company that wants you to work hard while you're there and enjoy your life when you're not. Ie, it really is 9-5.

Compared to my former life as a freelance, where you NEVER had freedom and were always "on the clock" and beating a deadline, this is a kind of ecstasy that I've never quite experienced before. I love it.

When the clock strikes 5, some of my co-workers literally bolt out of the door. I still feel weird leaving as early as 5 and prefer to stay til 6 or so, but if I did want to leave then, no one would bat an eyelid.

Well, today, they announced we're getting even MORE free time.

They're instituting something called "Summer Fridays" where we can leave the office at 1pm on Fridays.

I feel as though I've died and gone to heaven. I mean, if I can't get my work done in that time, I can't leave the office, and that's totally possible... but I CAN leave if I want to. I could come in early and blast through everything and actually ENJOY myself of a random afternoon.

I could get errands done, start a weekend trip early, beat the summer traffic, get my hair done.

There's so much I could do.

Let the summer begin!

Scenes from The Bunker Hill Day Parade

In the 11 years that I lived in LA, I don't think I watched one parade. Oh wait. I did see one, but I had to go to Huntington Beach, so that doesn't count.

In New England, you could see a parade every weekend if you wanted to, they're that common. For me, though, they're still a treat that's as rare as fried clams so when I found out there was a parade marching right through my 'hood, I was all over it.

The Battle of Bunker Hill Parade commemorates the bloody and fateful battle that took place 250 years ago, literally steps from my condo.

It’s a nice parade, filled with tons of Revolutionary War re-enacters and pretty awesome fife drum bands as well as our own current navy band marching in full uniform.

One thing I had forgotten about in terms of parades is how much politicians love to march. Everyone from Mayor “Mumbles” Menino to our state rep Geno Flaherty took part, and one other character who didn't quite fit.

Yup. Chewie marched in the parade. Maybe they were trying to say that if the force had been with us, we would have won that battle. Not quite sure about that one.

Other various and sundry Charlestown characters marched or floated through, including some war widows and Gold Star Moms, which are mothers who have lost sons in a war. This woman wasn't part of either of those floats, but she must have done something good because she looks like she's been through a lot.




The day actually began with me running the Battle of Bunker Hill 8K race, which has a very challenging hill 2 miles in and ended with impromptu grilling of steaks with Chuck, my dad and Chuck's daughter Polly.

All in all, a great day of Americana, with road races, parades and bbqs - oh, and the Red Sox game was on in the background. Doesn't get more American than that!

Local BlogHer MeetUp

Saturday, I went to a BlogHer event in Hudson Mass to meet some local bloggers that we might possibly feature on the re-launch of my company's website... and it was definitely worth the drive.

I was met at the door by Janice Newell Bissex, one of the women behind a fantastic healthy eating/cooking and recipe site called "Meal Makeover Moms." She's got a very professional-looking site and even her own radio show. She'll stay on our radar for sure!

Next, I met the wife of a man who was representing the "BlogHim" demographic and has a blog called "Daddy Scratches" (www.daddyscratches.com). Yes, my mind went to the gutter immediately at the thought of his blog's name, but apparently it's a reference to his scratchy face when he doesn't shave - a kid thing.

While munching on fruit salad and mingling with fellow bloggers, I heard that there was someone named "The Coupon Goddess" in the other room. She was someone I definitely had to meet.

I made a beeline for the sun porch and planted myself at a table of bloggers, including The Coupon Goddess.

Melanie, as she's known IRL is a SAHM mother of 4, who puts Coupon Mom to shame in terms of the amount of mind-blowing deals she gets each week. Her blog is primarily a journal of how and what she saves.

A typical day out for her can include spending $31.35 and saving $341.19. Seriously. She ends up getting a lot of stuff for free, but it doesn't sit in her basement, gathering dust. She supports an entire troop of soldiers in Iraq and sends them boxes of goodies each week.

She's one of these women that you just have to stop and admire. Four kids, gorgeous and polished, and she also makes this phenomenal savings sound so easy.

Some quotes from her yesterday: "I haven't paid for a cleaning product in over 10 years." "I actually earned $400 by shopping at the grocery store last week."

She even answered difficult questions about how to save on Kosher food and how to save on organic vegetables and meats. Watch her space. I think she's got huge potential.

Her site again is: www.thecoupongoddess.blogspot.com

Two other women at the table who have great blogs include Susan, who writes a completely charming "travel blog" that's not always about far-flung destinations (www.transienttravels.com) and Megan, who has a fun shopping blog (www.agirlmustshop.com).

I hope to get to meet all of them again soon. And,who knows? Maybe we can even work together one of these days...

My 10 seconds of fame

Last night, in the middle of dinner at Bertucci's, my Blackberry started buzzing like crazy. There was an opportunity for me to comment on the 11 o'clock news about an exciting new piece of legislation - a ban on the use of the marketing terms "Light" or "Low-tar" in reference to cigarettes.

This is huge news for anyone with an interest in cancer - and spefically lung cancer since we're always tarred with the smoking brush (pardon the pun) so I didn't want to pass it up. But at the same time, it was a bit of a challenge. And I was at a pizza joint.

As lung cancer advocates, we work very hard to try and erase the smoking stigma that plagues lung cancer patients and their families. Yes, smoking is a risk factor for lung cancer, but smoking is also the leading cause of heart disease and is the leading risk factor for a number of other cancers including bladder, kidney, esophageal, pancreatic, cervical and even some leukemias. Only 20% of smokers die from lung cancer, and 10-15% of people who get lung cancer never smoked at all, so it's not a total cause and effect type of equation.

Unfortunately though, lung cancer still bears the brunt of the smoking stigma and that's the main battle we fight in trying to get people to have compassion for the disease and also to get more funding for research so that we can start to finally increase survival rates. Lung cancer survival rates haven't changed in 35 years! They've remained stuck at a paltry 15% - and it's mostly because people view lung cancer as a disease that people bring on themselves.

Anyway, I wanted to talk about the light and low-tar cigarettes without linking it 100% to lung cancer, which was a little bit complicated and I was more than a little bit nervous.

I ended up saying something like this:

"My mom died from lung cancer and although she quit smoking 18 years before her diagnosis, she did smoke - and like many smokers, she thought by smoking "light" cigarettes, she was making the healthy choice. The truth is, there is no healthy choice when it comes to cigarettes and smoking isn't just a huge risk factor for lung cancer, which my mother had, but also for cardio-vascular disease and a number of other cancers from bladder to pancreatic."

At least I HOPE I was that eloquent!

I think more likely my quote was peppered with "ums" and "ahhhs" and "you knows." It all happened so fast. One minute I was scarfing down pizza. The next I was standing outside Bertucci's with a camera in my face. Oh, and the reporter, Sean Kelly, is super-tall so he stood in the gutter while I stood on the curb so we'd appear somewhat similar in height. Just a little visual for you all.

In the end, the segment didn't air until about 12:30 am after the Lakers playoff game. I fell asleep on the couch waiting to see it. Chuck saw it though and said I "looked good" which is always nice to hear, but he also said that it was "so quick" and I was on for about 10 seconds.

In hindsight, that might be a good thing. I can look at this experience as a chance to practice my "TV" skills and if there's another opportunity for us to comment on something that relates to lung cancer in the future, I'll be that much more ready for my "close-up." Maybe next time I won't have to wipe the pizza crumbs off my face seconds before air time.

I don't want to be a bitter old hag, really.

Sometimes, as a lung cancer advocate, you can feel a little bitter. Or at least I can. Let me explain:

Last night I went to my monthly meeting at Mass General Hospital in Boston. I’m part of the Patient and Family Advisory Council (PFAC), which is yet another example of how phenomenal MGH is.

MGH actually seeks feedback from former patients and family members about new and current initiatives, new projects and how to spend their money.

The topic that came up last night was “Bucket #5” which is basically a pool of money that hasn’t yet been spent. They want us to help figure out how to spend it.

As part of the exercise, we were given a quick refresher course on all of the fantastic programs available to patients in the MGH Cancer Center from the healing garden to social work and psychiatric care, acupuncture and ride services, support groups, etc, etc.

Then they came to a program which made the bitter creature inside of me start to twitch: pilates classes for breast cancer survivors.

I asked if other types of cancer survivors could join the class, and our group leader said apologetically, no. For one thing, she said, it’s funded with breast cancer money, as a lot of the extra MGH programs are funded by donors. And for the other, breast cancer survivors need this kind of class because of the terribly invasive surgeries they have. They need to rebuild their cores (ie, abdomens) after breast cancer surgery.

I do not begrudge the breast cancer patients their pilates, but this kind of distinction and frankly, class divide, brings out my bitterness.

What about ovarian or uterine cancer survivors? What about stomach cancer patients? Don’t they need their cores strengthened too? And of course, what about lung cancer patients?

Recovering from lung surgery, where in many cases ribs have to be broken in order to access the lungs, is no easy feat.

It would be nice to have a lung cancer-exclusive pilates class too, but the money from the lung cancer community can’t be allocated to such niceties as pilates. The money that we raise has to go straight to research. We have to help people live first and worry about “feeling better” later. Feeling better is a luxury we just can’t afford.

The thing is, breast cancer didn’t always have its own pilates classes and billion dollar foundations. It took the work of a LOT of advocates to stand up and say we ARE going to talk about women’s breasts and we ARE going to advocate for screening.

So when the bitter old hag isn’t screaming in my ears, I look at the pink behemoth of the breast cancer advocacy movement and bow down at her in awe. What they have done is incredible. I just hope we can do it someday too.

And - the upside is that the underdog eventually wins. Cinderella found her prince, the Red Sox won the World Series and hopefully, with enough work, lung cancer will have the luxury of our own pilates classes (and a whole lot more).

Would you like some attitude with your coffee?

I live in Charlestown, a section of the city that used to be home to Boston's Irish-American gangtsas, hoods and bank robbers, but now is overrun with babies, dogs and investment bankers.

One of the things that's so charming about my 'hood is that the townies and the toonies (yuppie scum like me) co-exist pretty happily. They're happy we came in and updated the place. We're happy to have the "character" that keeps real estate prices low.

But where the two worlds divide is in the land of coffee, where you have two options for your morning caffeine rush: Dunkin Donuts and Zume's. Which one you choose separates the wheat from the chaff. Personally, I don't draw a line in the sand. I straddle the fence and decide where to go based on my mood.

Now, one might think that at Dunkins, while you could get "comfort food" in the form of their weak but lovable coffee, calorie-rich muffins, bagels and donuts, you might get a surly attitude from minimum-wage chain-store-working donut-sellers. And while prices would naturally be higher at the highbrow coffee shop Zume's across the street, you'd get some neighborhood charm and friendliness that would make it worth crossing the street.

Not so. In fact, the opposite is true. The workers at Zume's seem as though they are doing you the hugest favor by waiting on you at all. I've rarely seen any of them smile, and I often leave there feeling a little bit hassled and like I've just offended them by paying $7 for a coffee, banana, apple and yogurt.

At Dunkins, the servers are chipper immigrants, with smiles on their face and wry senses of humor, trying to get the morning rush crowd through as quickly as possible. I've rarely felt mistreated and usually walk out of there at max $3.50 lighter.

So, the choice should be clear. I should choose townie over toonie and stay true to my roots - as well as my tolerance for rudeness. But at D&D, for all of it's charm and nostalgia, they only serve muffins, donuts and bagels. No healthy options to be had. If only they had fruit. If only their coffee was a little bit stronger.

Instead, I suffer through surly service at Zume's, watching the carriage corral as the moms who don't work gather to gossip and chat with their perfect toddlers and $500 strollers, probably re-living a routine that's not too dissimilar from Charlestown mothers of yore - just with more expensive coffee.

The real solution to my bourgeois dilemma? Make my coffee at home and tote my own yogurt and fruit to work. But then, what would I have to complain about?

I Had My Jerry Springer Moment

Saturday night, Chuck and I went to see Jerry Springer The Opera and we emerged a little dirtier. It was one of the most irreverent musicals I've ever seen, and I'm not completely sheltered. I mean, I lived in LA for 11 years. I've seen a few things.

For the uninitiated, it's an opera about the Jerry Springer Show, and it's abso-f*cking-lutely hilarious. I don't normally curse, but after 2 hours of this Springer show, it's hard not to.

I'm not saying I didn't like it. I actually thought it was hilarious. But it did that thing that the actual Jerry Springer show does. It made me squirm in my seat, uncomfortable with the prurient nature of what I was watching, cringing at the words being said, the topics being covered. Let's just say there's a lot of toilet humor. And tons of profanity. There is no bleeping in this show - and the curses spoken (and sung) are the absolute worst in the English language.

One of the songs has a chorus that repeats over and over again "What the f*ck, what the f*cking f*cking f*ck?" Seriously. The C-word is used as the main refrain in one song, the word d__bag in another. Jesus is portrayed as a diaper-wearing, whiny victimy "slightly gay" tenor, and the whole thing is definitely blasphemous.

But we liked it. As we were walking out, we were chuckling to ourselves like we'd just done something naughty - as if we'd just had a frisky moment in the bathroom that only we knew about. We've been joking about it for days and our language has certainly gotten more vulgar as a result.

This show was a smash hit in London but for some reason, it never really took off in the States. I think that's partly because it hits a little too close to home for us.

It's easy for the Brits to laugh at our religious zeal and parody our most embarrassing #1 TV show, the one that shows the ugly (but scarily true) underbelly of America. When we're forced to look at it - have it literally "in our faces" - it's not so easy for all of us to take. "Jersey Boys" or "Mama Mia" this is not.

But if Jerry Springer The Opera comes to your city, I highly recommend that you see it. It's an experience, it's a happening, and it's a f*cking fun night out!

Kristine Matson Unsung Hero Award

About a month ago, I went to the Captsone Ceremony for Stand and Deliver, the mentoring program at Lawrence High School, where my mom volunteered. They had asked me to come and present an award in her memory, the Kristine Matson Unsung Hero Award, and I just got a picture of me and Aryln Hernandez, this year's recipient. Thought I'd share it with you all.

Ultimate Boot Camp!

Yesterday I started my first boot camp class of the season. Boot camp is actually Ultimate Boot Camp, a Boston-based company I found last year when I first moved back to the city.

I was looking for a way to meet people and get some regular exercise, and it fit the bill in both departments. I did boot camp last June through September and it looks like I'll be doing the same thing this year!

Last year, I started classes on the Boston Common in June because the Charlestown class was full. That was fun because I got to work out in Back Bay and Beacon Hill - gorgeous neighborhoods that I can't quite afford just yet. Then, for July,August and September, I worked out in my 'hood, Charlestown, just a 10 minute walk or 5 minute drive away (depending on how late I sleep in.)

We primarily work out in Paul Revere Park, a beautifully landscaped outdoor space just across from the famed Zakim Bridge. We often move over to the docks in the Navy Yard which affords stunning morning views of downtown Boston and sometimes we go up to the Bunker Hill Monument, another scenic vista.

Boot camp is Mon-Thurs mornings from 6-7. It can be a challenge to wake up at 5:30 every morning and it takes some adjustment initially, but I love the fact that I get to spend time outside almost every day even though I work a 9-5 job. I love that exercise is done by 7am (unless I want to go for a run after work) and I love meeting new people, often neighbors.

Last year, I met three girlfriends at boot camp, and if I can meet three more friends this summer, I'll be very happy indeed.

Oh, and the instructors, John and Emily, happen to be my next door neighbors, so I can't get away with too much of they'll be knocking on my door...