Getting exercise

So, we're trying to get more exercise.
It's hard to get out of bed some mornings. Well, not that it's hard. More that it's too easy to just lie there.
At the least, I can always say I'm being nice to the cats. After all, there's nothing worse than disturbing the living, breathing heating pad curled up next to your feet.
But exercising after work isn't much better.
I ike coming home, putting on the PJs and shop online to reward myself for not freaking out at work and finally telling the people I work with exactly where they can stick their stupid questions and deadline-pushing mistakes.
Magazines make it seem so easy to find 10 minutes here or there to work out. Again, it's not that there's no time, it's just easier to find other things to do.
I actually weigh the options: Should I sit and watch TV or read a book, or spend the time ignoring every cell in my body that screams in torture from the minute the sweat pants go on?
I always think it's funny when articles say, "Work out on your lunch hour!" Where do these people work where either they can take the time to work out for an hour, then re-shower to come back to work, or where they can go work out and just come back to work all smelly?

A victory over e-mail

Whoo-hoo! The number of deleted items in my e-mail matches the number of items in the in-box!

Note: This is as oppsed to being tilted 1 percent in deleted to 99 percent in inbox.

A nice visit

About 11 this morning, I got a call from a friend who moved coastal last year.
Mel was coming up to see the mountains, now covered with snow, that he used to see every day on his way to work when he lived here in Riverside.
So he was going to be up in my neck of the woods, and did I want to meet and have lunch.
We ate at a local Japanese restaurant (Cali rolls are the debbil) and had Cold Stone Creamery after (delish! It's got to be bad for you, but at least it's good for your soul, and to be honest, sometimes you just want to wallow in chocolate like it's a sweet spa).
It was such a nice surprise. Here's hoping it's a good omen for the rest of the week!

I feel awful

Oh my god, am I ever sick. I thought when you lived in Southern California, it was too warm to get sick! But here I am, at home on a Saturday afternoon, wrapped up in a heating blanket, surrounded by my cats, and coughing and blowing my nose to rid my bug-ridden body of generic goo.
I hate being sick, especially on the weekends. It's like a waste of perfectly good time away from work.
I'd rather be sick during the week. I don't call in sick, though. If I'm going to be miserable, I may as well go to work.
Besides, if I call in sick to work, I feel like I'm letting people down, or that people think I'm lying about being sick (just because I think that when other people call in sick. You can always tough it out and go to work).
My parents never called in sick, not ever. My mom was back teaching two weeks after delivering each of us. My dad went back to work a month and a half after a massive heart attack.
Obviously, that's had an effect.
Really, though, the fact that I'm sick isn't that big a surprise. I work in a huge office, lots of shared computers and phones (nomadic employees, you see), and it seems like if one person gets sick, it's only a matter of time before others get sick.
And I'm sick!
:-(
If I thought being sick was miserable when I was a kid (no running around, no playing outside, and if your parents quaratined you like mine did, no TV, since the only TV was in the living room), it's even worse when you're an adult and you either have to take care of yourself, or ask your friends to help you.
Luckily, my boyfriend is emotionally, if not legally obligated to help me, getting me drinks, putting on DVDs I want to watch, going and getting me McDonald's (even though it's his D&D day with the boys).
That's nice.
Also nice: According to my usual sick cycle, this day will be the worst of it!
Hurrah for my body's immune system!!!

Notes from Bush

WASHINGTON (Feb. 16) - President Bush said Thursday he was satisfied with Vice President Dick Cheney's explanation about his shooting accident, and Texas authorities said they had closed their investigation without filing any charges.
"I thought the vice president handled the issue just fine," the president said in his first public comments on Saturday's accident. "I thought his explanation yesterday was a powerful explanation.
"Shucks, it started with 'Once upon a time.' Ever'body knows I like my stories like that."


NOTE: some comments above are false so to make with the funny.

Enh, it's probably already been done

Haha, I just thought of this: When Cheney has a gun, it's duck season for everyone around him.

Comment from the victim, I mean, the new cabinet member

Through hospital officials, Harry Whittington has declined to comment.
"He still kind of wonders what all the hoopla is about," said Peter Banko, administrator of Christus Spohn Hospital Corpus Christi-Memorial.

Dude.
You got shot.
By the VP.
Of the United States.

"You rapscallions with your 'media' and your 'questions'! I miss the good ol' days when a man could shoot a man and there weren't no fuss. You whippersnappers just look to stir up trouble!"

Comments from Dick Cheney

(AP)-Dick Cheney was soft-spoken and appeared shaken as he described seeing 78-year-old Harry Whittington drop to the ground after he pulled the trigger on his 28-gauge shotgun while aiming at a covey of quail.
"The image of him falling is something I'll never ever be able to get out of my mind," Cheney said. "I fired, and there's Harry falling. It was, I'd have to say, one of the worst days of my life at that moment."
Cheney said that later, though, after he'd thought about it, it was pretty cool, especially since he's never been in the military at all and has never been to war.
"I mean, at that MOMENT, it was the worst day of my life. But in the time since, it's sort of mellowed. Now, on the list of bad things that've happened to me, it's even lower than the massive and multiple heart attacks and the removal of my soul.
"Think about it: Who else gets to shoot someone and watch how it all plays out? Come on. I'm the vice president. That's, like, the ultimate get out of jail free card!
"What am I saying? I'm not going to jail!"

NOTE: some comments above are false so to make with the funny.

Now he wants a license to shoot

So I guess that settles it: For 7 dollars, Dick Cheney's shooting of that lawyer would have been legal.

www.whitehouse.gov/news/releases/2006/02/20060213-10.html



Statement by the Office of the Vice President

It has been brought to the Vice President's attention by the Texas Parks and Wildlife Department this afternoon that, although he had acquired a 125 dollar Texas non-resident season hunting license, he lacked a 7 dollar stamp for hunting upland game birds. To address any questions about the licensing:

-- A member of the Vice President's staff wrote a check for 140 dollars understanding that this would purchase a Texas non-resident season hunting license that would permit the Vice President to hunt quail in Texas. It appears now that the license itself cost 125 dollars, and an extra 15 dollars covered the cost of a Federal migratory bird stamp. The Vice President did not need the Federal stamp, as he already possessed one.

-- The staff asked for all permits needed, but was not informed of the 7 dollar upland game bird stamp requirement.

-- Because the requirement is new, the Department has informed us that it is issuing warnings, and the Vice President expects to receive one. He will take whatever steps are needed to comply with applicable rules.

-- In the meantime, the Vice President has sent a 7 dollar check to the Texas Parks and Wildlife Department, which is the cost of an upland game bird stamp.

Snowboarding hell

I have friends who've enjoyed snowboarding, so I decided to try it.
In doing so, I discovered I'M TERRIBLE AT IT!
Because I wouldn't know if I liked it or not, I decided not to invest in anything more than gloves, so I went up in jeans and flannel. I figured it had been good enough for winters in the Midwest, it must be OK for snowboarding in Southern California.
So, I get up to the resort and rent the board and boots and all and head up to the lessons area.
The instructor couldn't have been nicer, but his niceness was no cushion for my bootie.
I couldn't even make it down the babiest bunny slope without falling every 5 feet or so.
Encouraged by the instructor's enthusiasm, I make it to the ski lift, where he waits for me so we can get to the upper hill, strap both feet on to the board and commit more acts of torture on ourselves.
We get on the lift and he spends the 3 and a half minutes giving me a pep talk, saying that he likes the fact that every time I fall, I get back up. And that he won't give up if I don't give up. Very, very encouraging.
We get to the top and I strap in. And every other person in the class just starts going down the hill. And I'm still shimmying my way to the top of the run.
But the story is no different than the bunny slope story: Every five feet, I lose my balance, plop down and slide about five more feet.
Only now, because my jeans are wet, they are leaving big denim blue streaks every time I fall.
So I get about 25 feet down the hill, look up and there are blue streaks about every 5 feet.
And I'm getting cold from falling on my butt and my knees are hurting from falling. But every time I fall, I have to roll over on to my knees because it's easier for me to get up that way.
About two-thirds of the way down the hill, though, I try to get up and instead fall backward and hit my frickin' head.
So I lie there for a minute contemplating how nice the sky looks, so clear and blue.
From downhill, I hear the instructor yell, "Are you OK?" followed by the crunching sound of him running up the icy hill.
"Oh, yeah," I say. "I'm just not used to hitting my head."
OK, he says. So he decides that we'll go down tandem, or something like that. He'll guide me and I'll power. But, he says, I have to pay attention and do exactly what he says. And he won't give up if I don't give up.
So he helps me up. And then he gets up.
And says, "OK, move that way," and points to the right.
And I start scootching.
And fall again.
And hit my head again.
That's about the point at which I give up.
I mean, considering the fact that I'm not, umm, coordinated or, umm, physically fit, snowboarding is apparently not my thing.
Plus my brain's pretty much what I have going for me. It's one of the body parts I have the most fun with.
I can't risk smearing it all over ice!