So Far, So Good

Maybe I should buy myself some gold stars...

Master of the Obvious

Now that I've managed to get my weight into the "normal" BMI range (*) (**), it's time to bump up the cardio exercise just a bit. And really, I do mean just a bit. Because I pretty much don't like to break a sweat. I'm lazy; I'll admit it.

Anyhow, since I used to like running when I was a kid and I hate going to gyms, I decided to ease into things with the Couch-to-5K Running Plan. It's straightforward and starts off pretty slowly, both of which I need.

So far I've done the first workout of the first week. It wasn't too painful, but I did learn something:

Don't eat an ice cream Drumstick washed down with 12 ounces of Diet Coke in the ten minutes before running.

Really. That's what I've learned.

We'll see if I can remember that...

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(*) When I say I'm in the "normal"  BMI range, I really mean solidly in the middle of the normal range. I don't look waifish. (Side note: Firefox wants me to correct "waifish" to "dwarfish" which is something that I suppose I do actually resemble.) I still have a gut. And despite all this, someone told me that I needed to put on a few pounds.

(**) If you want my secret, here it is: stop eating so much. That's it. I could spin it out into a few hundred pages, but that's really all it is. Luckily I don't get paid by the word.

Random Pictures

In the past ten years I think I've tried to grow sunflowers in my garden at least five times, and out of the hundreds of seeds I have planted, none ever sprouted. I finally decided that continuing to plant sunflower seeds fit the definition of insanity (i.e., doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result) and stopped.

Naturally, this came up on its own this year. It's about seven feet tall. I don't even water that patch of dirt.

 

The garden has been a bit neglected in general this year, but that doesn't seem to have bothered it one bit. I've never had any luck with annuals reseeding (other than weeds), but the marigolds came through for me. (I planted the basil behind it. Getting that to reseed would be too much to ask for.)

Speaking of ongoing attempts, Ripley the cat has spent the last two years desensitizing the dogs to his presence. I'm not sure Molly notices him at all though. In another ten years or so they might start sleeping together. (I think I need to get Ripley his own puppy.)

 And finally, in the interests of fairness, a picture of Ginger. Maybe I really should have gone with the pink camouflage bed...

Out in the Hood

I had one of those "this town is going to hell in a handbasket" moments recently when for the third time in one week I saw a car not move over into the passing lane to make room for someone merging onto highway 113.

A little background here: highway 113 (between Davis and Woodland anyhow) is two lanes in either direction with about twenty feet of grass between. It's very flat (except for one spot where it goes over the railroad tracks), straight, and has two spots where the CHP likes to radar people. Every once in a while during the summer the grass catches fire and causes a few cars to back up while waiting for the smoke to clear, but mostly the agreed-upon speed is sixty-five in the slow lane, and seventy-five in the passing lane. In late summer the on-ramps smell like rotting tomatoes because the Romas roll off the trucks when they go around corners. There is not that much traffic, and people tend to be more polite -- possibly because there's a reasonably good chance that if you make a rude gesture to someone it will turn out to be someone you know.

The Woodland on-ramps are almost half a mile long and very gently curved, and even in my Civic I can easily get up to 70 mph so that I could merge onto the highway even if there were traffic in the slow lane. But -- and this is different from busy freeways -- everyone, but everyone, moves over to make room. It's the little things.

So after seeing the third person not move over this week (new people!), I was reassured to see proper behavior by the next few cars. It's one of the things I like about Woodland.

Things like that remind me of a conversation I had with Jeff and Rvan a few months ago. I was ranting about people who feel the need to carry cell phones everywhere. They were surprised that I didn't carry mine with me to walk the dogs. (The furthest I ever get from home with the dogs on a walk is about four blocks.) I was surprised in turn to find out that they both carry not only their cell phones but their wallets and keys with them if they walk around the neighborhood.

Keys? Why would they need their keys?

Turns out they lock up their houses when they walk around the neighborhood.

Who does that?

Hell Attempts To Freeze Over, Is Foiled By Global Warming

My cubicle neighbor Jon had his last day at work on Thursday. In lieu of going out to a real restaurant for his going away lunch, we all went to the "Tenant Appreciation Lunch" put on by the property management. In order to make vegetarian lasagna, they replaced the meat with equal amounts of garlic. We all know how I feel about garlic (the food of the devil), so you can imagine how much I liked the lasagna.

Yes, I am complaining about free food.

Even better, when I went to get a cookie there was a crowd of at least fifteen people around the dessert table and the catering employee singles me out and says "Only one per person, please." Seriously. I was still five feet away from the table, so it's not like I was making a stack of desserts on my plate or anything. I can't even...

Jon actually ducked out of the Tenant Appreciation Lunch, so he didn't even make it to his going away lunch. (Okay, he had a good reason -- his daughter had just given birth a few hours before, so he was going to visit his new grandson. I'll give him a pass on that one.) But that was okay because part two of his going away was at a bar.

Yes. I went into a bar this week. A sports bar no less.

Full disclosure: I didn't actually drink any alcohol at the bar. Do I still get points for going? I did try to get alcohol, but they didn't have Blackthorn cider, so I stuck with Diet Coke. I ate a bunch of really, really greasy appetizers and I tried to ignore the surrounding televisions with pretty good success. If I were a dog, I'd have pancreatitis about now, but luckily I've trained my gall bladder well and I can eat a pound of oil without consequences. Other than feeling like I've eaten a pound of oil.

So there you have it. I went to a bar this week.

And people say that I never do anything...