So, I’m taking a class courtesy of the Defense Acquisition University this week. There’s a redhead in the class who’s pretty stunning, and Monday morning, the quote “She had hair like ironed catsup” or “She had hair like polished catsup” sprung into my mind, fully formed, like Athena from the head of Zeus.
Where did that come from? Google’s letting me down…
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But a huge moral victory in more ways than I can count.
I blew it this morning – completely didn’t set the alarm in the hotel room correctly, and woke up just in time to make it to class. Then, class runs late, and it’s dark when we get out. Plus, I blew it in arranging the hotel, and got one between Route 9 and the Mass Pike – so running on actual streets isn’t an option.
But, being re-dedicated to the whole life concept of fitness as a life skill, I broke down and headed to the hotel dreadmill for the three miles that were on the schedule.
About a mile into the run, the two instructors for the class walked into the fitness center. We nodded at each other, and they started working out. Of course, I had to take the opportunity to crank up the incline and the speed on the mill, and the run went by. Finished with Lance Armstrong congratulating me on improving my mile time thanks to Nike+iPod.
I walked out of the center without speaking to the instructors, which likely was a mistake. I’m realizing that I’m way too hardwired as an engineer, and need to spend some mental capital on figuring out how to read people and build relationships. Anyway, water under the bridge there. I’ll bring some coffee and donuts to class tomorrow morning.
The workout was completely eradicated this evening by supper at Legal Seafood. Wow. I suppose they’re getting big enough to where I should be cynical of them, but somehow I cannot. Shellfish and a delightful glass of Spanish rioja. Only thing missing was the sparkling eyes and warm body of my lovely wife…
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Jim Harrison said, “I like grit, I like love and death, I’m tired of irony. … A lot of good fiction is sentimental. … The novelist who refuses sentiment refuses the full spectrum of human behavior, and then he just dries up. … I would rather give full vent to all human loves and disappointments, and take a chance on being corny, than die a smartass.”
The Writer’s Almanac from American Public Media
Unfortunately, I’m well on the road to dying a smartass.
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