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Annotations Some Days in the Life - Daily
Springtime Setting Up
May 8, 2000

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It's been a few days since last you heard from me. They've been good days, though warm. It was in the high eighties and entirely too much humidity on Sunday. Now, come Summertime that'll seem downright comfortable, but we're still used to the idea of late snowfalls. Full out summerlike weather just isn't in our New England character right now.

But it's beautiful. The springtime foliage is fully out now, and it's rapidly turning lush. A nice, full Spring where last year we were lucky to have even token leaves on the trees at this time. All that water turned into a green world where everyone's happy just to be alive. We took a few rides here and there, mostly to get things done but at least partially to look at trees. And they just look good.

Otherwise, the weekend was downright boring -- at least to read about. Yes, I took three days off from the journal. The major reason for that was simple -- I had nothing to write about. On Friday, I booted the journal up around ten, looked at my page, and thought 'I have nothing to say. I have nothing I want to say.'

So I drank tea, sat on my couch and watched bad game shows instead. And I enjoyed it. I also practiced cartooning -- my cartoon faces are becoming acceptable, which is cool. My realistic faces aren't, but that's because I suck at drawing. But that's okay -- I'm doing this for me, and I like that.

I also did In Nomine type stuff for the site. Which was fun, and keeps my IN section of my brain lubricated, which is important because sometime soon the Heavy Edits section kicks in, and it'll be time to do fast, on-demand work. Well, my work budget, she is done so this is a good time to do it in.

Oh, that was the other thing. We finished off the budget (more or less) and now wait to hear if we have approval for the money. I want approval for the money. It would be a goodness. Then, we buy and buy and buy and buy. It is staggering, all the things we would then buy.

The magical stress test has been put off until this Thursday. (At this rate, I might as well just declare myself stressed and be done with it.) In the interim, I checked out the place where I'll be doing the exercise portion of my rehabilitation/weight loss/big ol' "not dying" plan. It's right nearby, in (dare I say) walking distance.

This is an important factor, and one that reminds me of another gym, back in Ithaca. This was a gym all the way out of town, at a time when I had no car. I really wanted to go up there, however, as there was a fencing class taking place. I love fencing. I used to do it in school, but I got way out of practice and was never terrifically good in the first place. Still, it was a chance to get back into it.

But, the gym was eight or nine miles out of town.

"No problem," the coach said. "You can jog it."

Folks, I wasn't in as bad a shape as I am now, but I was in pretty bad shape. But I promise you, even if I'd been in absolutely stellar "hero of the beach" shape, I wouldn't jog eight miles to exercise. In fact, I wouldn't jog eight miles period.

But runners will never understand non-runners. Mileage and times and distance and speed all matter to them. Whereas I'll happily stand on a treadmill and walk nowhere with a fan blowing on me, but running for its own sake is like asking me to hang glide. Sure, I can, but why would I?

This Gym is between five and ten minutes walk, which in our business we refer to as a "warm-up." So, I walk over with bag in hand, change, and hit the machines. Three days a week, supervised exercise is the goal. Maybe even four days a week. All I know is I'd like to actually get healthy and in shape, and this seems like it has a shot at doing it.

It's a nice, open place. It has the gym side, but also has an Aromatherapy/Massage Therapy side, with various other stuff. I'll be using the gym, but it makes for an amusing duality. You can see the jock stuff, and you can see the new age stuff, and somewhere right about the middle of the offices you can see one blend into the other. It forms a kind of spalike gestalt.

I hope it'll work out. I hope it'll be good. I had some fatalism this weekend about my condition and my survivability of it. Par for the course, I suppose. It's strange, but I don't want to die. That's all. I don't want to die.

Of course, I will die. And so will you and so will your friend Todd.

You know, I don't want to die, but if I have to, I think it'd be funny to be hit by a truck while walking over to the gym to exercise and live a little longer. I don't think it'd be funny enough, mind you, but I think it'd be funny.

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