LongTom

hoisted aboard one keg

I stair-stepped today. Came downstairs and got right to it, fairly matter-of-fact-ly. I guess there is only so much easy willpower floating around in the world; when one person gets down to business with no fuss, somebody else is left feeling stuck in the mud. Sort of like tides, I guess. I've certainly had my share of being stuck. Thanks, blackjohn, for the support.

Snow play today! Five hours of climbing a big snow bank, and hand-bulldozing a sled run. I think that counts as aerobic. :angry: Like blackjohn says, though: where'd everybody go?

Weights today. I'm seeing some definite difference in the shape of the muscle areas that I'm working. That is gratifying (and for now at least, I can blame the weight plateau on muscle growth, since muscle is denser than fat). Only problem is that while I'm gaining some nice new contours in the arms and shoulders, I'm not losing the old ones around the middle. At this rate, I'm going to end up looking like the Michelin Man. I guess I had better take the aerobic workouts a little more seriously. (Sometimes I despair of ever changing my spare tire. I've been this basic shape since about age three.)

Hiked 8 miles today. That's too much, ouch. (Besides, I certainly can't do that every day and expect to get anything done, but it was fun today, anyway.)

(somewhat repetitive) sucking whirlpool

I thought a fish stick was one of those pieces of lumber you use to repair a sprung mast.

I didn't know Phil was Irish! (Phil O'Sophy...)

escaping the sucking whirlpool

I vaguely remember a story about an interview with the famous cellist Yo Yo Ma, where he told the interviewer that he still practices scales for some surprisingly long period every day. When the interviewer asked why, he said "Because I think I'm getting better!"

Weights yesterday. Stairstepper today. I don't suppose resealing the waste flange at the bottom of the toilet this afternoon counts for anything, other than getting in the way of the other things on my to-do list.

I fear your proposition suffers overstatement. Dodging freeway traffic is not a performance ingredient of even the most advanced forms of calligraphy. Oops, just read your later reply. Perhaps it would be fair to say the master of calligraphy is the pen, is the ink, is the paper, is the letterform, is the thought which the letters spill onto the page. I think it goes too far, however, to say he is the raindrops in the rainstorm in which he sits and nonetheless produces flawless, unspattered lettering. The master is not diminished by his recognition of inauspicious circumstances.

Well, looks like I need to go attempt to master the installation of a new wax ring.

Get an adware scanner. You might also try turning on the popup blocker in your browser. (edit: oops, gotta read more carefully. I guess these are getting past your popup blocker. that points to the adware cleaner even more.) About the sig banner, I can only suggest rechecking your pub settings and look for a typo in the Photobucket URL.

What the hell is that thing? The Chattanooga Chew Chew?

^ Talk Like a Pirate Day, naturally. < My trebuchet works! Flings a softball 83 yards. There is still some more theoretical range to be extracted, though. V Do you like to build contraptions?

Stair step this morning, first thing. It certainly feels good to have it the heck out of the way for the day.

And the sugar on the outside fuses. Roasted marshmallows, only crunchy! (For some reason this works especially well if you let the Peeps go several months stale first.)

Of what sort? What's your plan to get over it? As for me, I don't even believe I've started up the hill yet, much less reached a plateau. I lost a few pounds and then stopped losing. I've also hit the point where I've stopped adding plates to the bars. That's easy enough to deal with, just keep doing the sets, and when they start to feel easy again, add more weight. Worst problem is that I'm very short on time right now, dealing with as much technical training as I can cram in within the next few weeks. It is hard to find time for the workout (I know, it's only a half hour...) between work, study, and family. Okay, I just finished my chapters for Java class. l'll go do one right now. (edit) ...Done. I even managed to clap on another pound of two of the exercises. Obviously I need to quit whining and get moving. That and recommit to no Pyracy until AFTER I've done a workout. (That right there will free up some time for working out.) Also, I recommit to getting to bed by 10:30 every night. Staying up til midnight-plus (my usual habit, but a bad one) is seriously interfering with my ability to get things done the next day, and now is not a time when I can afford that.

Texas ruby grapefruit, peeled, sectioned, and peeled again. (Much better that way than with a spoon. Talk about playing with your food, though...)

I'm extrapolating here, but I will guess that to belay a rope is to lay it down upon itself; the rope is laid (or in the older usage, be-layed) upon the pin in such a way that it is held fast by its own tension on the pin. In other words, the "be" in belay is similar to the "be" in "bewitched" or "befuddled."

Hee, hee! Sounds like you're a character out of "Sid Meier's Pirates!" Navigate the Main fearlessly, broadside and board ships, swordfight like Errol Flynn, sack towns with nary a scruple -- but you have to ...(gulp)... dance, too? Seriously, though: most dance societies are thrilled to have you. They teach each dance right before doing it. Also, a great majority of the dances are composed of the same basic elements (aka "figures"), just arranged in different orders. Learn a "set and turn single" in one dance, you can do it in all of them. You'll have a basic vocabulary of figures by the end of the first night. If you can walk, you can dance. Literally. Go have fun.

Fresh barked, maybe? "Arr? arr? arr? arr?" (sealish for "hurry up and toss me one of those mackerel") Mmmm, if I were home right now, that pack of smoked salmon in the fridge would be in some serious jeopardy.

Ain't that the truth? I have no idea exactly what that smell is, other than that it hollers, "yup, these are mine."

Smoked wild Alaskan sockeye salmon