She had been traveling for almost seven months now, and though she felt weaker than ever, she still found the strength to carry her luggage through the spacious airport.
This next leg of her journey was one in which she would be able to cross off a last few items on her bucket list. This leg of the adventure would be a trip to Patagonia, specifically the far southern Chilean region known as Tierra del Fuego.
The desire to set foot on Tierra del Fuego took root in her imagination when she was in elementary school, just before her 12th birthday. A chapter in one of her world history textbooks featured the expeditions of Ferdinand Magellan and for some reason the description of how Magellan had to not only battle the elements but also his own men to make it through the treacherous seas at the southern tip of South America had enchanted her.
So now, at the age of 67, she was sitting in an airport waiting to board a jetliner that would take her nonstop to Hermes Quijada International Airport in Rio Grande, Argentina. From there she would travel with a group of fellow tourists on a bus to Ushuaia, the capital of Tierra del Fuego, and, after a round of golf at the Ushuaia Golf Club (generally regarded as the southernmost golf club on earth) she would board a steam train of the Southern Fuegian Railway, known as the Train of the End of the World.
At the far southern terminus of the train ride, El Parque station, she planned to find a taxi or some such ride service to take her to the coast.
At least that's how she hoped the trip would play out. If only her body would hold up just a bit longer, allow her the dignity of making her own way into the great beyond. She did not want to pass away in a small lonely room in the corner of a rest home. She wanted to be able to set foot on the shore of the southernmost beach in South American and look out towards infinity and face death with a smile.
A defiant smile, one that said "Screw you cancer, I won. I went out my way."
Monday, January 29, 2018
Friday, January 26, 2018
Tuesday, January 23, 2018
Monday, January 22, 2018
Harsh Monday Morning Commute
Chances are your commute this morning was not as bad as the driver's of the three cars involved in this wreck was...
Sunday, January 21, 2018
Tired Of Being Typecast As The Villain
Winter morning, cold and crisp
But not as cold as the baseless accusations
Leveled against him
He had hoped, as he had always hoped
That this time he would be judged
Based upon his actual words, his actual actions
Alas, t'was not to be
He would have to stand trial once again
For crimes perpetrated by men who had preceded him
The hurtful curses and physical abuse
The damage inflicted by the actions of others, strangers
The psychological scars left by men who were now ghosts
All now his to answer for
Just as it had been
When he was a child
Friday, January 19, 2018
My Friend Oscar Malhoa
His mother was Spanish, his father Portuguese
Though he never considered himself
Either one of these
Always proclaimed himself an internationalist
Said he had no allegiance to any borders
Still, he held fast to a British passport
Said it was handy
For getting out of most difficulties
I met him in an Internet cafe in Glasgow
Back when Internet cafes were a thing
He spoke English with an awful accent
Which was still better
Than my Portuguese or Spanish
"You don't speak real Spanish."
He once said
"You speak a western bastardization of Spanish"
At least that's what I think he said
It may have been
"You speak a weird abomination of Spanish"
Dude was very hard to understand
Thursday, January 18, 2018
Wednesday, January 17, 2018
Tuesday, January 16, 2018
Sunday, January 14, 2018
Apparently, Kansas Itself Is A World Of Treasure
.A few days ago I wrote that a visit to the World of Treasures in Wichita, Kansas was one of the ten places within driving distance I wanted to visit this year.
That posting was evidently read by a few people living in Kansas, or had lived in Kansas at one time, and all of them emailed me ideas of other places that would be worth my while to visit in Kansas.
Among them are:
The Kaw Region Art Park near Topeka, Kansas, which features Truckhenge, Boathenge, and Beer Bottle City, all of which were created by Ron Lessman, at first as a response to a court order to clean up his property, which was strewn with old rusting trucks, buses, and the like.
The Oz Museum in Wamego, Kansas. When a place boasts 2,500 Wizard of Oz related items on display, and has a restaurant nearby that goes by the name of Toto's Tacos, well, there's not much anyone can do to stop me from paying a visit.
Kracht's Castle Island near Junction City, Kansas. Built by Don Kracht on an island in a middle of a pond. Mr Kracht is a retired teacher, and apparently this Castle has been his labor of love since the late 1980's.
Strataca in Hutchinson, Kansas. This is an underground salt museum - as in, 650 feet underground. It is located in a salt mine and is the only salt mine in the U.S. that allows tourist access. So yeah, gotta go there.
The Garden Of Eden in Lucas, Kansas. Another retired teacher with a creative bent, Samuel Dinsmoor (1843 - 1932) lived in a rather large log cabin that he built out of limestone, not logs, and he surrounded that home with a sculpture garden that features over 200 concrete sculptures he created that pretty much spell out his beliefs as a member of the Populist movement, and his religious convictions.
The Paul Boyer Museum of Animated Carvings in Belleville, Kansas. Paul Boyer was a man who created animated sculptures - hand carved wooden sculptures that feature motors and mechanics that make them move. He built them all by hand, from scratch. This is a must see.
That posting was evidently read by a few people living in Kansas, or had lived in Kansas at one time, and all of them emailed me ideas of other places that would be worth my while to visit in Kansas.
Among them are:
The Kaw Region Art Park near Topeka, Kansas, which features Truckhenge, Boathenge, and Beer Bottle City, all of which were created by Ron Lessman, at first as a response to a court order to clean up his property, which was strewn with old rusting trucks, buses, and the like.
The Oz Museum in Wamego, Kansas. When a place boasts 2,500 Wizard of Oz related items on display, and has a restaurant nearby that goes by the name of Toto's Tacos, well, there's not much anyone can do to stop me from paying a visit.
Kracht's Castle Island near Junction City, Kansas. Built by Don Kracht on an island in a middle of a pond. Mr Kracht is a retired teacher, and apparently this Castle has been his labor of love since the late 1980's.
Strataca in Hutchinson, Kansas. This is an underground salt museum - as in, 650 feet underground. It is located in a salt mine and is the only salt mine in the U.S. that allows tourist access. So yeah, gotta go there.
The Garden Of Eden in Lucas, Kansas. Another retired teacher with a creative bent, Samuel Dinsmoor (1843 - 1932) lived in a rather large log cabin that he built out of limestone, not logs, and he surrounded that home with a sculpture garden that features over 200 concrete sculptures he created that pretty much spell out his beliefs as a member of the Populist movement, and his religious convictions.
The Paul Boyer Museum of Animated Carvings in Belleville, Kansas. Paul Boyer was a man who created animated sculptures - hand carved wooden sculptures that feature motors and mechanics that make them move. He built them all by hand, from scratch. This is a must see.
Friday, January 12, 2018
Is That What You Really Think? Really?
I have been slowly forming the opinion that very, very few people actually ever think for themselves.
In fact, I'm beginning to thing that very, very few people actually ever form an original opinion based upon a careful review of all the facts and an even more careful examination of every side of an issue.
In fact, I'm beginning to thing that very, very few people actually ever form an original opinion based upon a careful review of all the facts and an even more careful examination of every side of an issue.
Thursday, January 11, 2018
Top Ten Odd Things Within Driving Distance That I Want To See This Year
Our Lady of the Rockies near Butte, Montana. The fourth largest statue in the United States, built to honor women everywhere, especially mothers. My Mom being the most important person in my life I feel it would be a pilgrimage of sorts.
National Rod and Custom Car Hall of Fame Museum in Afton, Oklahoma. Darryl Starbird built his first car of the future in the late 1950's. Since then he has built over 300 cars of the future, and most of them are on display at this museum, which is run by his wife Donna. I must pay them a visit.
The Museum of World Treasures in Wichita, Kansas. This is a relatively new museum, and it is in Kansas, which somewhat begs the question, "What could possibly be there that is worth driving clear across Kansas to see?" Well, for starters,there is an American Pop Culture gallery on the third floor that boasts the actual pitchfork carried by Ray Bolger when he was playing the scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz.
The Enchanted Highway, south-western North Dakota. A few years ago I was told about this stretch of road near Regent, South Dakota that has been decorated with scrap metal sculptures created by an artist named Gary Greff. This is definitely something I would consider worthy of...a road trip.
The Corn Palace in Mitchell, South Dakota. I've been wanting to see this building for as long as I've been back in the lower 48. It was built in the Moorish Revival style, and if the thought of a Moorish Revival building in the heart of South Dakota isn't enough to pique your curiosity, it's also filled with corn art - as in, art made from corn (and numerous other grains).
Pioneer Village in Minden, Nebraska. If it only had 350 antique cars on display, that would be enough of a draw. However, there are 50,000 items on display in 28 buildings, including airplanes, farm machinery, stage coaches, and even mounted sport fishing trophies. Who can resist that?
Teako Nunn's Giant Fiberglass Statues in Hatch, New Mexico. What can I say that the name of the place doesn't? Giant fiberglass statues. I'm in like Flynn.
The Idaho Potato Museum in Blackfoot, Idaho. Do I have to mention anything other than the Potato Industry Hall of Fame? I didn't think so.
Hall of Heroes Museum in Elkhart, Indiana. How the H.E. double-toothpicks could I be expected to not make a trip to a place known as the "largest superhero memorabilia collection in the world"?
Ames Brothers Pyramid in Buford, Wyoming. A 60 foot tall pyramid built in the late 1880's in honor of two brothers who, through hook and crook, helped get the transcontinental railroad built. It's in the middle of nowhere, but that's only a couple of hours from my house, so I have to go see it.
Tuesday, January 9, 2018
The Logic Is Unassailable
There is an unincorporated community in northeastern Arkansas that goes by the name of "Number Nine".
There are also places known as "Number Eight" and "Number Ten".
It seems a little more than a hundred years ago these places were the sites of lumber mills known as "Number Nine Lumber Mill", "Number Ten Lumber Mill," and so on.
The lumber mills are long gone, but the names remained in place, simply because people in the area already knew them by those names, so why screw up what people already know.
Have to admire the logic.
There are also places known as "Number Eight" and "Number Ten".
It seems a little more than a hundred years ago these places were the sites of lumber mills known as "Number Nine Lumber Mill", "Number Ten Lumber Mill," and so on.
The lumber mills are long gone, but the names remained in place, simply because people in the area already knew them by those names, so why screw up what people already know.
Have to admire the logic.
Saturday, January 6, 2018
Six Seconds Remaining On The Clock
Down to the wire, as they say.
That's how I would motivate myself when I was younger. Whenever I was facing a deadline on a project - anything from homework to getting all the weeds pulled from an area of the yard that my Mom had been bugging me to weed for who-knows-how-long, that's what I would be repeating to myself, in my head if not aloud.
"Six seconds remaining on the clock as this young man from the mediocre streets of Southeast San Diego races to finish his assigned task..."
Seriously, it worked as far as motivating me to not only pick up the pace, but to actually achieve fairly decent results.
Might have to start using that mantra again.
That's how I would motivate myself when I was younger. Whenever I was facing a deadline on a project - anything from homework to getting all the weeds pulled from an area of the yard that my Mom had been bugging me to weed for who-knows-how-long, that's what I would be repeating to myself, in my head if not aloud.
"Six seconds remaining on the clock as this young man from the mediocre streets of Southeast San Diego races to finish his assigned task..."
Seriously, it worked as far as motivating me to not only pick up the pace, but to actually achieve fairly decent results.
Might have to start using that mantra again.
Friday, January 5, 2018
Occasionally, An Odd Duck Crosses My Path
Today I encountered a person of an extremely esoteric character.
I have encountered a number of extremely esoteric characters over the years, and have found that the single best, least rudest way to describe them is as an "odd duck".
"Uniquely tweaky deaky freaky" would be another.
The one I met today got me thinking about some of the others. I have met so many odd ducks that I started to classify them some time ago.
Here, for your consideration, are brief biographical sketches of five odd ducks I have met or encountered, from five of the classifications I have come up with for them (names and other obvious identifiers of these people have been omitted or changed due to...lawyers).
1) The oddest duck out of water I have ever known was a man who dreamed of being a professional dancer though he did not come anywhere near to the typical physical profile of a professional dancer. He was roughly 6'5" tall and weighed at least 350 pounds, if not more.
A 100% muscle-free 350 pounds.
I met him when I was in my early 30's. He was in his mid 50's. For most of his life he had worked in the family business - his parents owned a motel with a bar & grill attached, and at the time I met him his parents were for the most part retired, so he and his wife pretty much did everything to keep the motel and bar & grill running.
His wife, BTW, was a bit of an odd duck, too. She loved to sing Karaoke, and was actually pretty good, but she also liked to look the part of a Las Vegas lounge singer, so she always wore sparkly spangly sequined dresses.
Always.
Just about every night of the week they could be found in the lounge area of the bar & grill, she singing a WWII era torch song, he dancing with one of the regular customers, or one of their two daughters, or by himself - he really didn't care if he had a dance partner, he just loved to dance.
Oh, and he drove a 1974 Datsun B210. He absolutely loved that car and took immaculate care of it.
Those are very small cars - seeing his huge frame behind the wheel of that small car was like watching a whale swimming in a kiddie pool.
2) The oddest duck stuck in a different era I ever knew was a much older woman I met when I was 20. I never knew her exact age, but it was somewhere between 40 and 50. She worked in sales at a JC Penny's, and she walked, talked and dressed as if she was a 1950's pin-up queen.
She seemed to have an infinite supply of outfits from the 1950's, and each and everyone of them appeared to be designed to reveal her very ample curves - and she wasn't adverse to letting a button or two pop off her blouse every once in awhile.
I do not believe I ever saw her without seeing a lot of her cleavage and even more of her legs.
Engaging in a conversation with her could be either a challenge or hilarious, as she had a way of giggling as she talked, and used a lot of 1950's slang.
She used to call me her large charge, which was a nice boost to the old ego.
I didn't know it at the time, but that was my first encounter with what has come to be known as a Cougar.
3) The most talented odd duck I have encountered (this is the largest category of odd ducks, btw) was a man I met when I was in my mid-20's. This guy could play piano like he was born to it, and he painted like an Renaissance master.
But he lived in a shack that was filled to the rafters with old books and magazines, most of which he said he had never read - he told me he just liked the smell of the old paper.
He also kept his hair closely cropped on the left, while I don't believe he ever cut the hair that hung long and limp on the right side of his head.
His parents were wealthy - his Dad was a television executive in L.A. (I forgot who for) and his Mom was an actress who had been on a few television shows in the sixties.
He was the first man I ever knew who painted his fingernails.
4) The luckiest odd duck I've ever known was a man I met in the late 1990's, just after I returned to the states. He was in his early 40's, lived with a very attractive woman that everyone who knew him swore had to be just a roommate, and rode a classic Schwinn ten-speed bike to work throughout the spring and summer, but drove an old, beat up Buick Riviera in the fall and winter months.
This man was always telling stories about various adventures he'd been on, or about stuff that he'd invented that was stolen from him, and he also claimed to have won the lottery.
This went on for years without a shred of proof ever offered, and then one day he kinda just disappeared from the face of the Earth.
About a year after he had simply vanished I ran into him at the airport in Albuquerque, New Mexico, of all places - he was waiting to board a flight to L.A.
He was very congenial when I walked up to him and said "long time no see, where have you been", and then he introduced me to this very beautiful woman sitting next to him - stating she was his wife.
Told me that they had been traveling around the world on a sort of long-delayed Honeymoon,which they were at that point smack dab in the middle of, and that's why no one had seen him in a year.
She verified this, adding that they had won a sizable sum playing the lottery with a ticket they had purchased together ten years ago, and that they had decided to give their relationship a test of time and poverty before spending the money on anything together.
I didn't ask how much they had won, but I figured that since they were on a vacation without a foreseeable end (which, btw, they had to interrupt to attend the wedding of her sister in Albuquerque), it must have been a sizable sum indeed.
Never saw either of them again after that chance meeting - gave them my address and asked them to drop me the occasional postcard, but never got one.
5) The unluckiest odd duck I ever knew was a woman that I worked with about 20 years ago who I believed had to be possessed by a poltergeist.
She was kookie to begin with, but then, as I got to know her, I began to realize that she was not only kookie, but also just plain unfortunate.
She was not without coordination or grace, but I swear I never once saw this girl without her telling me of something bad that had befallen her.
It was never terribly bad stuff, but it was bad none-the-less.
Things like ink pens exploding in her shirt pockets - she wore white blouses with pockets and despite having a history of pens exploding in them, kept wearing white blouses with pockets and kept putting pens in them.
She also had the heels of her shoes breaking off just about constantly - and insistently kept wearing shoes with high heels despite having fallen quite a few times due to heels breaking off.
And her car seem to get hit a lot by other cars - when it was parked, never when she was in it, thankfully.
About once every three months she would tell a new story of her car being parked somewhere - at work, in front of stores, malls, etc., and getting backed into or sideswiped.
She once told me that she had two different cars get hit by two different garbage trucks, in the same post office parking lot, within the span of a few months.
Haven't seen that women in over a decade - wonder how she's holding up?
I have encountered a number of extremely esoteric characters over the years, and have found that the single best, least rudest way to describe them is as an "odd duck".
"Uniquely tweaky deaky freaky" would be another.
The one I met today got me thinking about some of the others. I have met so many odd ducks that I started to classify them some time ago.
Here, for your consideration, are brief biographical sketches of five odd ducks I have met or encountered, from five of the classifications I have come up with for them (names and other obvious identifiers of these people have been omitted or changed due to...lawyers).
1) The oddest duck out of water I have ever known was a man who dreamed of being a professional dancer though he did not come anywhere near to the typical physical profile of a professional dancer. He was roughly 6'5" tall and weighed at least 350 pounds, if not more.
A 100% muscle-free 350 pounds.
I met him when I was in my early 30's. He was in his mid 50's. For most of his life he had worked in the family business - his parents owned a motel with a bar & grill attached, and at the time I met him his parents were for the most part retired, so he and his wife pretty much did everything to keep the motel and bar & grill running.
His wife, BTW, was a bit of an odd duck, too. She loved to sing Karaoke, and was actually pretty good, but she also liked to look the part of a Las Vegas lounge singer, so she always wore sparkly spangly sequined dresses.
Always.
Just about every night of the week they could be found in the lounge area of the bar & grill, she singing a WWII era torch song, he dancing with one of the regular customers, or one of their two daughters, or by himself - he really didn't care if he had a dance partner, he just loved to dance.
Oh, and he drove a 1974 Datsun B210. He absolutely loved that car and took immaculate care of it.
Those are very small cars - seeing his huge frame behind the wheel of that small car was like watching a whale swimming in a kiddie pool.
2) The oddest duck stuck in a different era I ever knew was a much older woman I met when I was 20. I never knew her exact age, but it was somewhere between 40 and 50. She worked in sales at a JC Penny's, and she walked, talked and dressed as if she was a 1950's pin-up queen.
She seemed to have an infinite supply of outfits from the 1950's, and each and everyone of them appeared to be designed to reveal her very ample curves - and she wasn't adverse to letting a button or two pop off her blouse every once in awhile.
I do not believe I ever saw her without seeing a lot of her cleavage and even more of her legs.
Engaging in a conversation with her could be either a challenge or hilarious, as she had a way of giggling as she talked, and used a lot of 1950's slang.
She used to call me her large charge, which was a nice boost to the old ego.
I didn't know it at the time, but that was my first encounter with what has come to be known as a Cougar.
3) The most talented odd duck I have encountered (this is the largest category of odd ducks, btw) was a man I met when I was in my mid-20's. This guy could play piano like he was born to it, and he painted like an Renaissance master.
But he lived in a shack that was filled to the rafters with old books and magazines, most of which he said he had never read - he told me he just liked the smell of the old paper.
He also kept his hair closely cropped on the left, while I don't believe he ever cut the hair that hung long and limp on the right side of his head.
His parents were wealthy - his Dad was a television executive in L.A. (I forgot who for) and his Mom was an actress who had been on a few television shows in the sixties.
He was the first man I ever knew who painted his fingernails.
4) The luckiest odd duck I've ever known was a man I met in the late 1990's, just after I returned to the states. He was in his early 40's, lived with a very attractive woman that everyone who knew him swore had to be just a roommate, and rode a classic Schwinn ten-speed bike to work throughout the spring and summer, but drove an old, beat up Buick Riviera in the fall and winter months.
This man was always telling stories about various adventures he'd been on, or about stuff that he'd invented that was stolen from him, and he also claimed to have won the lottery.
This went on for years without a shred of proof ever offered, and then one day he kinda just disappeared from the face of the Earth.
About a year after he had simply vanished I ran into him at the airport in Albuquerque, New Mexico, of all places - he was waiting to board a flight to L.A.
He was very congenial when I walked up to him and said "long time no see, where have you been", and then he introduced me to this very beautiful woman sitting next to him - stating she was his wife.
Told me that they had been traveling around the world on a sort of long-delayed Honeymoon,which they were at that point smack dab in the middle of, and that's why no one had seen him in a year.
She verified this, adding that they had won a sizable sum playing the lottery with a ticket they had purchased together ten years ago, and that they had decided to give their relationship a test of time and poverty before spending the money on anything together.
I didn't ask how much they had won, but I figured that since they were on a vacation without a foreseeable end (which, btw, they had to interrupt to attend the wedding of her sister in Albuquerque), it must have been a sizable sum indeed.
Never saw either of them again after that chance meeting - gave them my address and asked them to drop me the occasional postcard, but never got one.
5) The unluckiest odd duck I ever knew was a woman that I worked with about 20 years ago who I believed had to be possessed by a poltergeist.
She was kookie to begin with, but then, as I got to know her, I began to realize that she was not only kookie, but also just plain unfortunate.
She was not without coordination or grace, but I swear I never once saw this girl without her telling me of something bad that had befallen her.
It was never terribly bad stuff, but it was bad none-the-less.
Things like ink pens exploding in her shirt pockets - she wore white blouses with pockets and despite having a history of pens exploding in them, kept wearing white blouses with pockets and kept putting pens in them.
She also had the heels of her shoes breaking off just about constantly - and insistently kept wearing shoes with high heels despite having fallen quite a few times due to heels breaking off.
And her car seem to get hit a lot by other cars - when it was parked, never when she was in it, thankfully.
About once every three months she would tell a new story of her car being parked somewhere - at work, in front of stores, malls, etc., and getting backed into or sideswiped.
She once told me that she had two different cars get hit by two different garbage trucks, in the same post office parking lot, within the span of a few months.
Haven't seen that women in over a decade - wonder how she's holding up?
Thursday, January 4, 2018
Four Chords In Search Of A Superpolylogarithmic Song Structure (Without Refrain)
Simplicity, that's what makes popular music so, well...so popular.
When you only have a four-chord progression to remember, it's easier to remember many, many songs, which in turn allows one to summon up from memory a tune or two appropriate for how one is currently feeling, or how one wants to be feeling.
Because music makes for feels, man.
Lately I have been picking up my guitar much more frequently and trying, once again, to learn how to play more than just the few simple tunes that I have been playing over and over and over again for the past, oh, I don't know, three or four decades.
However, I have encountered once again the same small problem I always have. Big clumsy fingers.
See, guitar strings are close together, and placing fingers on specific strings while avoiding contact with the other strings that are on either side of the particular string you are trying to hold down is essential to making a clean chord ring out.
Which is hard to do with big clumsy fingers.
I have tried various exercises to develop finger dexterity - there are some great videos on YouTube that have helped, and I've even purchased a portable fingerboard, but I still
seem to be unable to get my fingers to do what I want them to do.
I've been told by multiple sources that learning barre chords are the answer to my problem, but I've also been told that the only way I'm ever going to be able to successfully play a barre chord is by learning how to move my fingers around a guitar neck with a nimble strength.
Which means a very large boatload of practice, which requires a very large boatload of time.
Maybe I should just learn to play the drums
Wednesday, January 3, 2018
Tuesday, January 2, 2018
The Morning Workout Challenge
Two seconds after the alarm blared out of the clock radio he was up and out of bed. With uncharacteristic decision he made his way to the bathroom and performed all the necessaries within 5 minutes, then dressed for the gym.
Walking down the stairs he mentally reviewed the exercise program he had laid out for the week. This was an aerobics day, and as such that meant he would be spending at least 20 minutes on the treadmill, or maybe the elliptical-cross-country-skiing machine - whichever one was freed up near a television that was tuned to a sports channel.
Kill two birds with one stone that way, exercise and infotainment.
He also would have to factor in whether Talky McTalkerton was at the gym when he walked in. Her presence, while not offensive, certainly could be annoying, and he really didn't want to hear about her or any of her friends problems, health issues, or latest indulgences.
Just wanted to exercise and see some highlights from yesterdays' games, that's all.
If Talky was there, he would have to hope she either didn't see him or was talking to the chatbrat bunch in the express workout area.
He really hated to be rude, but if she approached him he had already told himself he was going to tell her he had no time to listen to her today as he had to get his thoughts organized for a big meeting he had to attend later that day.
That was about as rude as he could stomach himself being.
Walking down the stairs he mentally reviewed the exercise program he had laid out for the week. This was an aerobics day, and as such that meant he would be spending at least 20 minutes on the treadmill, or maybe the elliptical-cross-country-skiing machine - whichever one was freed up near a television that was tuned to a sports channel.
Kill two birds with one stone that way, exercise and infotainment.
He also would have to factor in whether Talky McTalkerton was at the gym when he walked in. Her presence, while not offensive, certainly could be annoying, and he really didn't want to hear about her or any of her friends problems, health issues, or latest indulgences.
Just wanted to exercise and see some highlights from yesterdays' games, that's all.
If Talky was there, he would have to hope she either didn't see him or was talking to the chatbrat bunch in the express workout area.
He really hated to be rude, but if she approached him he had already told himself he was going to tell her he had no time to listen to her today as he had to get his thoughts organized for a big meeting he had to attend later that day.
That was about as rude as he could stomach himself being.
Monday, January 1, 2018
The New Years Breakfast Tradition
GC liked to start each new year with a larger than average breakfast. It was a tradition he had started for himself a few decades ago, when eating a big meal was a fairly easy undertaking.
Now, as he looked at the stack of 6 pancakes, the large order of corned beef hash, the two biscuits smothered in sausage gravy, the scalloped potatoes, the full rasher of bacon, along with the five-egg omelet made with diced onions, ground Kielbasa sausage, thinly sliced jalapeno, Havarti cheese, and covered in spicy white queso sauce...well, he began to reconsider the sanity of continuing this little tradition.
Maybe he should start a new New Years day tradition, he thought. One with a lot less gluttony and a lot more exercise.
Now, as he looked at the stack of 6 pancakes, the large order of corned beef hash, the two biscuits smothered in sausage gravy, the scalloped potatoes, the full rasher of bacon, along with the five-egg omelet made with diced onions, ground Kielbasa sausage, thinly sliced jalapeno, Havarti cheese, and covered in spicy white queso sauce...well, he began to reconsider the sanity of continuing this little tradition.
Maybe he should start a new New Years day tradition, he thought. One with a lot less gluttony and a lot more exercise.