~Saturday~ I woke up at three after eleven and the first thing I thought was, “Mrs. Chason’s funeral is starting right about now.” My thoughts are with you, my friend.
My next thought was, “I have to run over and water Joe’s indoor plants some time today.”
For breakfast, I made a cheese, onion, and tomato omelet, which was pretty decent. I’ve never put tomatoes in an omelet before, but a work colleague and friend of mine, Sarah, has graciously started giving me vegetables from her garden, which I totally appreciate, and I’m finding more and more ways to use tomatoes in particular.
I submitted this question to “Ask Greg“:
| Hello Greg. Why is it called a “heat index” and a “chill factor,” and not both a heat index and a chill index or both a heat factor and a chill factor? As a lover of words, I’ve always wondered about this. Thanks. |
At just before 1:00 today, I read that Amy Winehouse had died. As a friend on Facebook commented, “So sad. She had real talent… and real demons.”
I think this is my favorite song of hers:
R.I.P., Amy.
I got to the gym at 6:00, and since it closes at 7:00 on Saturdays, I skipped crunches again to make sure I’d get in a 40-minute cardio workout.
There are only two step machines at my gym, and by step machines I mean:
 |
(There are plenty of these.)  |
On one of those step machines, there was a guy with very, very thick (and by thick, I don’t mean muscular, I mean like a tree trunk) calves with a full (and by full, I don’t mean complete, I mean stuffed to the gills) backpack (and by backpack, I don’t mean a school backpack, I mean a hiking backpack) and yellow and black hiking boots on.
My first thought was, “That’s a lot a drama right there.” My second thought was a little more generous, “He’s probably going to scale the Alps and he’s training.” My third thought was less generous, “Shouldn’t you have on an oxygen tank to simulate the altitude difference, too?”
I did something I rarely do while on the elliptical machine today, and that was to plug my earbuds into the TV receiver instead of listening to music on my iTouch. The 6:00 news was on, and I wanted to hear what they were saying about that terrorist attack in Oslo, as I’ve only heard the headlines on that story, and hadn’t read anything about what actually happened.
I was glad to hear that they were still referring to it as a “terrorist act,” as I had read a Facebook status update earlier in the day that said that once they knew that it was not a Muslim person who did it, they had stopped referring to him as a terrorist, calling him a “madman” instead.
After my workout, and since I was closer to the Target in Crossroads there than I am from my house, I ran there to get a couple of things, including some French bread and some Mozzarella cheese to make some bruschetta with more of those tomatoes when I got home.
There was a guy whose path I kept crossing (Coincidence? Probably not.) who I couldn’t stop looking at. He was beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. Killer chest and biceps with a tight blue shirt on that knew what it was doing with them. Just the right amount of hair on his calves. Looking at his wife, I thought, “She can’t possibly be satisfying him.”
I checked my U.S. mail when I got home and was most delighted by two items. One was a soft envelope from my sister with a note in it that said, “I saw these at the airport and they just CRACKED ME UP!” and there was this little tin enclosed:
Love my sistah!
The other thing was a postcard from the Queen of England. Okay, it was of the Queen of England, and the greeting said:
| Dearest John,
The Queen says hello! As you know from the blog, we are having a wonderful time. Here’s a joke for you: “I saw a theatrical performance about puns—Actually, it was just a play on words.” Miss you, my friend! See you in August.
|
SarahThat, too, put a big ol’ smile on my face.
After delighting in those, I got right to work making these:
I can’t describe with justice how good these were! Thanks, again, Sarah!
I had a fun night out at Flex tonight, where it was underwear night, and where there was a porn store (and surprisingly, I really don’t like when they have porn stars there), and when he first got into his underwear, I posted this Facebook status update:
He actually “grew into them” later, though.
At one point, he came up to my friend Glenn and said, “Nice arms,” while feeling his biceps. I guess he didn’t notice my inverted biceps at all:
