Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.--(tip of the OSU cap to Robert Frost)
So I just returned from slip sliding my way around the 1 1/2 mile circuit. Funny, but it's easier to remain upright while running than walking. I'm certain there's a scientific reason for it, but it still seems strange to me.
I too tend to take the road less traveled...which is really weird considering my pathological need to be liked. In a way, I think Obama's ability to bridge this dichotomy is what won him the presidency, and I'm ok with that. I'll leave further political musings to those more qualified, like the nerd gardener.
So, day two of the new me went ok...did have a couple Vodka Tonics after work...I'm not a mormon....
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Epiphany
1.
a Christian festival, observed on January 6, commemorating the manifestation of Christ to the gentiles in the persons of the Magi; Twelfth-day.
2.
an appearance or manifestation, esp. of a deity.
3.
a sudden, intuitive perception of or insight into the reality or essential meaning of something, usually initiated by some simple, homely, or commonplace occurrence or experience.
4.
a literary work or section of a work presenting, usually symbolically, such a moment of revelation and insight
a Christian festival, observed on January 6, commemorating the manifestation of Christ to the gentiles in the persons of the Magi; Twelfth-day.
2.
an appearance or manifestation, esp. of a deity.
3.
a sudden, intuitive perception of or insight into the reality or essential meaning of something, usually initiated by some simple, homely, or commonplace occurrence or experience.
4.
a literary work or section of a work presenting, usually symbolically, such a moment of revelation and insight
So I went to two visitation services for two nice ladies on Sunday, and I realized that they both had died from complications of diabetes, and diabetes is hereditary, and my dad was diabetic, and I'm pushing the three century mark on the scale, and Holy Freaking Blubber, Batman! It's time to get a little serious about this weightloss/exercise thing. Seriously.
#1 son and I completed a 20 minute lifting circuit, followed by 10 minutes cardio this morning. It hurts SO GOOD, Johnny Cougar!
Monday, January 5, 2009
On hope....
Hope springs eternal in the human breast;Man never Is, but always To be blest:The soul, uneasy and confin'd from home,Rests and expatiates in a life to come. (tip of the Baltimore Ravens Cap to Alexander Pope)
So, with that thought in mind I ventured out into the frosty morning air and completed a 1-1/2 mile circuit at 5:30 this morning. Baby steps, to be sure, but steps that must be taken.
If I were a professional gambler, the kids would be subsisting on mac and cheese and hot dogs after the first week of the NFL playoffs. No way did I see Philly winning at Minny or the Dolts losing to San Diego. I thought Miami had a chance, also. The Cards and the ageless QB that I like, unlike the Jets' franchise killer, were my only clear cut winner. At least I have no emotional investment in this, thanks to the Hamsters of the Midway's brilliant chokefest in Houston last week.
In local sports news, my brilliant basketball coaching career is off and running....VG 5th graders falling to 0-2 in a very lopsided loss to Heritage. I know they're only 10 and I shouldn't care so much, but I feel like I'm failing these kids when they don't have success in games after putting so much effort into practice. So yes, I was up most of the night Saturday, fretting. Trying to come up with a way to make the kids see that the only way to overcome our general lack of speed and athleticism is to out work our opponent. I think that's a lesson that we can all take to heart.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
a better day
CATHARSIS-the purging of the emotions or relieving of emotional tensions, esp. through certain kinds of art, as tragedy or music.
So after yesterday's whine fest, I woke this morning feeling a little better about things.
Because the "shrinkage meter" was registering at normal levels after 3 days at defcon 5, I took the dog for a twenty minute walk/jog and then came home and did some stuff in the living room...a few pushups, situps, etc.
Maybe Old Red was right...."get busy livin', or get busy dyin'." We'll see what tomorrow brings.
So after yesterday's whine fest, I woke this morning feeling a little better about things.
Because the "shrinkage meter" was registering at normal levels after 3 days at defcon 5, I took the dog for a twenty minute walk/jog and then came home and did some stuff in the living room...a few pushups, situps, etc.
Maybe Old Red was right...."get busy livin', or get busy dyin'." We'll see what tomorrow brings.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Lifes' vicissitudes
"in singing garments Comes royally, at call -
Comes limber-hipped Indiff'renceFree stepping, straight and tall -
Comes singing and lamenting,The sweetest pipe of all."---Robert Louis Stevenson
RLS was writing about how his love had wained from passion into indifference, but I can relate his words to my feelings about getting into shape, work, life, everything.
I'm feeling blah about just about everything in my world right now. The blatant commercialism of the season, that I buy into hook, line and sinker. My job, which alternates between incredible goodness, and soul searing boredom. Even the family, usually my anchor, holds no special warmth right now. When I look at #1 son, I find that my pal, the bright, sensitive, empathetic creature whose company I once loved to keep, is gone. Replaced by a beast known as teenager, whose self-centeredness swallows everything around it, like a black hole, with hormones.
My quest for fitness seems like a lost dream. I can't find the gumption to fight the single digit temps and go out and do anything. My diet is a train wreck, derailed by crazy schedule, depression and a love of all things food.
I'm also miffed at the realization that my old office will soon be closing for the holidays, while the new gig shifts into panicked crunch mode. It's the first time I've missed the old place.
So now the question becomes how to shake this pall that hangs over me. I hope that Friday's festivities will snap me out of it. Adult conversation and competition at the euchre table, along with eats, drinks, and the like. (so my diet may continue to suffer, but hopefully my spirit will renew)
If not, I suppose I could fire up a fattie and party like 1999. Nah. I'd just get the munchies and blow my diet on doritos instead of Christmas cookies.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
The Lion Sleeps tonight...
[tip of the Illini basketball hat to the Tokens]
The Lion sleeps now. His roar extinguished by smoke and flames at the age of 65.
I've been thinking about what I would say about him for a few weeks, now, and I still don't know. He was a good man. Flawed, but unlike so many, willing to freely admit those flaws. Many who knew him in his later years mistook his certainty for arrogance rather than for what it really was. If he knew something, he knew it. Period. If he didn't know it, he learned it.
His body gave out on him, largely due to his habit of ignoring warning signs until they became five alarm conflagrations, but his mind was still keen. His lack of success in long term relationships with the ladies was legendary. So much so that our in joke was that I would ask him for advice, then do just the opposite and find success.
He loved his grandkids, but he wasn't close to them. By the time they came along, his patience, never abundant, had worn away completely and he could only handle their company in measured doses.
The Cardinals and Illini were his passion, and he passed that love on to me. He read insatiably until his last days, and I see that trait in #1 son and I smile. They were just beginning to find common ground when the end came.
He was vain enough to not go out in public wearing his O2, which I found disappointing because he wouldn't attend his grand kids athletic events. We tussled about this ceaselessly. I even have a six pack that I bought at his request in my fridge, because he wouldn't come over and drink it with me, as much as I atttempted to entice him.
So many more things to say. Before his health failed, he was the life of the party, the one everyone knew and liked. I would have liked to have been around when he ruled CU. It must have been one hell of a ride. He had a fantastic sense of humor. He and I found humor in places that no one else could. It was a great bond to have.
If heaven has a softball team, I imagine he's playing 3rd base and driving the opponent crazy with his opposite field base hits. Then it's on to the "Lockerroom", for coldies and conversation. I hope they let me play some day.
The Lion sleeps now. His roar extinguished by smoke and flames at the age of 65.
I've been thinking about what I would say about him for a few weeks, now, and I still don't know. He was a good man. Flawed, but unlike so many, willing to freely admit those flaws. Many who knew him in his later years mistook his certainty for arrogance rather than for what it really was. If he knew something, he knew it. Period. If he didn't know it, he learned it.
His body gave out on him, largely due to his habit of ignoring warning signs until they became five alarm conflagrations, but his mind was still keen. His lack of success in long term relationships with the ladies was legendary. So much so that our in joke was that I would ask him for advice, then do just the opposite and find success.
He loved his grandkids, but he wasn't close to them. By the time they came along, his patience, never abundant, had worn away completely and he could only handle their company in measured doses.
The Cardinals and Illini were his passion, and he passed that love on to me. He read insatiably until his last days, and I see that trait in #1 son and I smile. They were just beginning to find common ground when the end came.
He was vain enough to not go out in public wearing his O2, which I found disappointing because he wouldn't attend his grand kids athletic events. We tussled about this ceaselessly. I even have a six pack that I bought at his request in my fridge, because he wouldn't come over and drink it with me, as much as I atttempted to entice him.
So many more things to say. Before his health failed, he was the life of the party, the one everyone knew and liked. I would have liked to have been around when he ruled CU. It must have been one hell of a ride. He had a fantastic sense of humor. He and I found humor in places that no one else could. It was a great bond to have.
If heaven has a softball team, I imagine he's playing 3rd base and driving the opponent crazy with his opposite field base hits. Then it's on to the "Lockerroom", for coldies and conversation. I hope they let me play some day.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
It's not just me!
that thinks Bret fahvruh is the anti christ. Here's a rant from the message board on my fantasy fb league....
"Coo coo, kachoo. I am the egg man. Wait…maybe that was Paul or was it John. Well he is dead. WTF. I had to check to see who else Deron had for a QB, because if he played him on the matchup, he’d be the smartest mo-fo I’d know. But no. That wasn’t the case. His beloved Pay-a-ton Whanning had a bye. So he had to play is dead backup QB, and what happens? He sets a career record and ties a franchise record held by master cosksman Joe Namath. Now anytime someone mentions Broadway Joe I’ll have to hear about Brett Faravarav. And you know it’ll happen: Al Michaels: “Joe Namath scored 6 TDs against a team in his third season.” Madden: “Urr yaa, but Brett Farve scored 6TD’s in his fourth game as a Jet, with an entire team of Mini-Ditkas on defense, pushing against the tide of Katrina, and Napoleons’ eastern front. Brett Farve! Brett Farve!” Al Michaels: “I think it was Arizona, John.” Madden: “Fuck you, Al. Yer sucha bitch.” NBC was concerned at the conclusion of the game, because Madden jerked his turducken so long he went into a coma. Lucky Al Michaels was able to get the soaked and stained jockstrap Brett wore in the 92 Super Bowl, which hangs over the headboard in Madden’s bus, to resuscitate Madden before SNF. Whew. That was a close one. CLEAR!! The NFL needs to put in a new rule that if you belong to AARP you can’t play. He’s going to get hit one of these times and disintegrate into powder like those mummies do in that one movie. Shit what’s it called? Oh ya. The Mummy. So as if having the one thing in football I believe is the most unholy of unholy have a sold-my-sole-to-the-devil-day, I lost to Darren. And I’m not going to say, “No offense”, because I truly mean offense. Next time play Trent Green. He’s almost as old."
I'm hip.
"Coo coo, kachoo. I am the egg man. Wait…maybe that was Paul or was it John. Well he is dead. WTF. I had to check to see who else Deron had for a QB, because if he played him on the matchup, he’d be the smartest mo-fo I’d know. But no. That wasn’t the case. His beloved Pay-a-ton Whanning had a bye. So he had to play is dead backup QB, and what happens? He sets a career record and ties a franchise record held by master cosksman Joe Namath. Now anytime someone mentions Broadway Joe I’ll have to hear about Brett Faravarav. And you know it’ll happen: Al Michaels: “Joe Namath scored 6 TDs against a team in his third season.” Madden: “Urr yaa, but Brett Farve scored 6TD’s in his fourth game as a Jet, with an entire team of Mini-Ditkas on defense, pushing against the tide of Katrina, and Napoleons’ eastern front. Brett Farve! Brett Farve!” Al Michaels: “I think it was Arizona, John.” Madden: “Fuck you, Al. Yer sucha bitch.” NBC was concerned at the conclusion of the game, because Madden jerked his turducken so long he went into a coma. Lucky Al Michaels was able to get the soaked and stained jockstrap Brett wore in the 92 Super Bowl, which hangs over the headboard in Madden’s bus, to resuscitate Madden before SNF. Whew. That was a close one. CLEAR!! The NFL needs to put in a new rule that if you belong to AARP you can’t play. He’s going to get hit one of these times and disintegrate into powder like those mummies do in that one movie. Shit what’s it called? Oh ya. The Mummy. So as if having the one thing in football I believe is the most unholy of unholy have a sold-my-sole-to-the-devil-day, I lost to Darren. And I’m not going to say, “No offense”, because I truly mean offense. Next time play Trent Green. He’s almost as old."
I'm hip.
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