Monday, Mar. 03, 2003
For a brief moment I deluded myself into thinking he loved me.
Today was just about the last day I wanted to go to the gym. Overnight the temperature nose-dived more than 30 degrees Celsius and with wind chill it was at least a billion degrees below zero. Walking up home after my workout was exhausting and I was cold, tired, and hungry when I opened the door.
There sat our cat Zubby. He looked clearly overjoyed to see me. I got a little rush of happiness from that, since cats are mostly undemonstrative during that 1 1/2 hours each day that they are actually awake.
He ran ahead of me into the kitchen, looking over his shoulder to make sure I was following. He ran up to his water bowl. He peered intently into his water bowl and then looked up at me.
The bowl was empty.
It All Became Clear To Me Then.
Love, schmove. The cat had been waiting for me to come home so he could nag me about filling his water bowl. Clearly I have the word "Staff" tattooed on my forehead in catspeak because once my assigned duty was fulfilled he took four dainty laps from the water bowl, studiously ignored me, and headed back upstairs to my bed where he could go back to accumulating that badly needed 22 1/2 hours of daily sleep.
In a just universe, I would at least have been rewarded handsomely for dragging my aged carcass to the gym on such a terrible day. Yes, in a just universe, I would have suddenly seen my strength grow at least ten percent, lifting weights heretofore never dreamed of.
Not. Gonna. Happen. I tried putting two extra five pound weights on the squat bar today. Confidently I squared my shoulders, slid under the bar, hefted it into place and lifted it off the racks. My body basically said, "Yeah, in your dreams" and I couldn't even begin to do a squat. Fine.
I staggered back up to the racks and set the bar back in place. I peeled those weights off and put on two extra 2 1/2 pound weights. Again, I squared my shoulders, set the bar in place and began my squat. This time I got down, only to find myself in the embarrassing position of being unable to get back up.
Yep, there I was in classic squat position, which involves a certain amount of buttal jutting, pinned securely in place by the 110 pounds riding on my shoulders. I had to get one of the guys to help me out. The 110 pounds were nothing to him and he effortlessly took it off my shoulders and lifted it up to shoulder height, settling it back in the rack.
He did his best not to smirk.
Humbled, I went back to my 105 pounds.
The whole morning went like that. I tried to up my weights slightly on all my machines and free weights and each and every time I got my butt kicked for trying it. Even my cardio was lacklustre, slightly below what I can normally achieve.
My day so far? The arctic weather has wiped away all hope of spring, my workout was discouraging, and then I came home to be bossed around by my cat.
Um, if you find the co-ordinates for that just universe I mentioned earlier, you'll let me know, right?
P.S.-- Tessa made a button for the Make The Spousal Unit Ooogle-Gay's Mr. Wangitude Campaign. What cracked me up was the causes with which she associated it.
P.P.S.--If any of you wishes to create a wangitude, stamina and prowess tee-shirt design for the spousal unit's 50th birthday on April 25, please let me know. I know there was some earlier interest and all of you have far greater Photoshop skills than I do. If one of you makes a design I can use at Café Press, in addition to buying one for the spousal unit, I will buy one for the artist involved as a souvenir.
Goal for 2003: 500 miles - 804.5 kilometers
Want to delve into my sordid past?
She's mellllllllllllllting - Wednesday, Feb. 15, 2012 - Back off, Buble - Monday, Dec. 19, 2011 - Dispersed - Monday, Nov. 28, 2011 - Nothing comes for free - Monday, Nov. 21, 2011 - None of her business - Friday, Nov. 04, 2011 -
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