| Today’s workout was cardio-only and I wore a sweatband on my head, the likes of which I haven’t seen since the 1970s. Ask me if I care. It was totally effective.
We did only 45-minute routines today, so that we’d have time to make a stop at Bruegger’s on the way home, and before Kevin’s (av8rdude) noon conference call started. Today’s workout statistics:
|
We stopped at the Mission Valley Bruegger’s, where I had a sesame bagel with honey walnut cream cheese. They’ve redecorated the place, with one of the changes being an addition of booths. Sweet.
I’ve been very pleased with my last four blood pressure readings. These health signs are helping me to stay focused and motivated during this weight loss plateau that I’m currently experiencing.
| Systolic | Diastolic | Pulse |
|---|---|---|
|
118 |
68 |
69 |
|
106 |
65 |
75 |
|
120 |
73 |
60 |
|
113 |
67 |
74 |
I’m not sure what this means, but I’m quite sure it means something: I picked up my first large-print book at the library today. It’s Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert—our next MSBC book.
Random thoughts and observations while working from Helios this afternoon:
(1) Yesterday, I think, someone tweeted (on Twitter) something to the effect of, “I don’t understand why grown men don’t wash their hands after using the bathroom.”
This is the second day in a row that I’ve gone to use the restroom in Helios only to find urine sprinkled all over the toilet seat. Here’s my rant: How hard is it to lift up the toilet seat before you take a piss, guys? I mean if you’re that f###ing lazy, get one of these:
(2) There were two guys sitting at the table next to me talking about some Catholic church. The one with his back to me had some baby upchuck (I assume) on his shirt on the backside of his right shoulder—a burping remnant, I presume. One of those things in the category of “Things you don’t know you don’t know.”
(3) Rickshaw drivers have the best legs. Two of them stopped in for a coffee. This was one of them:
(4) I know from diversity training that when I see a guy with a bright fuschia cover on his cell phone that all I should think is, “He likes fuschia.”
I met Kevin and Kurt at the Sonic Drive-in near our gym for dinner. It’s been years and years and years since I’ve eaten at a Sonic. I got a combo: A footlong cheesy chili dog, small fries, and a medium drink.
Some of the waitstaff used roller skates, some didn’t. One of the girls on skates wore roller skates. One of the guys wore inline skates.
We didn’t eat from our cars, but rather walked up to a big sign, talked to it, put some plastic in it, and had our orders delivered to us, sans wheels—roller, inline, or otherwise—at tables in the covered, outdoor seating area.
At home, I edited for three hours straight and finally finished that 304-page book. Thank &deity.
I met Kevin and Kurt at Flex for Trailer Park Prize Night at just after 11:30.
Rob, from last night at dancing, from near Nashville, who’s a miller, was there again. I invited him to hang out with us. Miss Mims hosted. David, as QueerDonna, did some Madonna song that I didn’t know. His eyes were so droopy. He was shit-faced.
Ah, life in the trailer park. Kevin, Kurt, and I all left at just after 1:00.