Walking to Bree, or to first base
According to Google Earth, I covered 1.44 miles (must do this in miles for the Challenge) today at lunch - up to the corner of Joh and Vero, then back to work and back again to the sub shop (didn't have the money and had to go back for it). Not exactly bounding off towards Bree, but a fair start. I didn't have any difficulty actually doing it, but I noted that it was much harder than it needed to be - in other words, I think I am doing the right thing at exactly the right time, which is one of those minor little wins that keeps you going. I even jogged some of it, which is a frustrating and humbling experience. I then cancelled all of it by having lunch...but in the meantime, I think my body was getting used to saying, "Ah, yes, moving! I remember this sensation!"
(Note to self to create a filter for walking to Rivendell. No one needs to know how much I walk during the day, really, regardless of what the destination is or how many Nazgûl I encounter.)
That was good for my health. Jason Isringhausen was not. The Cards were up 4-3 and Izzy was coming in for an easy save, which would have put my Gatecrashers in a commanding second place and ready to challenge for first given the slightest slip from the doin'-it-with-mirrors Tinhats. Instead, Izzy coughed up a hairball on the mound, and Michael Barrett - Michael Fergawdsake Barrett - who has no business taking anyone downtown with anything but a company charge card, ended up smacking the winning home run for the Cubbies. Ack. Ack ack ack ack!
Another Geritol moment was, in front of my dear daughter, getting the number of RBI's that Hack Wilson had in his record-breaking season of 1930 wrong. Somebody had to have gone back and given him an extra one - I distinctly remember that he hit 190 RBI in 1930. Some gremlin went back in time and cut off a throw or something, allowing another run to score just to make me doubt my already precarious sanity. But it won't work, d'you hear? I know where my penguin is! Wubble wubble.
Things That Make You Screw Up Your Face Dept.: Out of the thirty-five or so people in this company, three are women...and yes, one is in HR. There are four people of color: two black guys and two Asians (one East and one South, the latter of whom is also one of the women and an engineering colleague of mine). Almost all of the water-cooler conversation in the office, including the one I'm hearing over my cube wall right now, has to do with golf.
(Note to self to create a filter for walking to Rivendell. No one needs to know how much I walk during the day, really, regardless of what the destination is or how many Nazgûl I encounter.)
That was good for my health. Jason Isringhausen was not. The Cards were up 4-3 and Izzy was coming in for an easy save, which would have put my Gatecrashers in a commanding second place and ready to challenge for first given the slightest slip from the doin'-it-with-mirrors Tinhats. Instead, Izzy coughed up a hairball on the mound, and Michael Barrett - Michael Fergawdsake Barrett - who has no business taking anyone downtown with anything but a company charge card, ended up smacking the winning home run for the Cubbies. Ack. Ack ack ack ack!
Another Geritol moment was, in front of my dear daughter, getting the number of RBI's that Hack Wilson had in his record-breaking season of 1930 wrong. Somebody had to have gone back and given him an extra one - I distinctly remember that he hit 190 RBI in 1930. Some gremlin went back in time and cut off a throw or something, allowing another run to score just to make me doubt my already precarious sanity. But it won't work, d'you hear? I know where my penguin is! Wubble wubble.
Things That Make You Screw Up Your Face Dept.: Out of the thirty-five or so people in this company, three are women...and yes, one is in HR. There are four people of color: two black guys and two Asians (one East and one South, the latter of whom is also one of the women and an engineering colleague of mine). Almost all of the water-cooler conversation in the office, including the one I'm hearing over my cube wall right now, has to do with golf.