And Just To Be Fair

If I were president, I wouldn't illegally spy on Americans, wouldn't trash the constitution, wouldn't condone torture, would clean up corruption, would curb spending, would stop borrowing, would ditch most of the religious right's nutty social agenda, would fire Rumsfeld, would actually show an interest in things other than clearing brush in my desolate part of Texas, and would answer honest questions and provide honest answers without spin rehearsing for two weeks prior. Worst president ever, quite possible. This coming from someone who voted for him twice and is as far to the Goldwater right as Kos is to the left.

"If I were president...

I'd disband the military entirely." Never has such drivel from such a wannabe intellectual who wants nothing more than to be taken seriously and to make a difference made me laugh louder at work. That's a lot of caveats, but I like to cma. It's a nice sentiment and maybe that's where that person was going with his comment, but think about the consequences before you spout off nonsense. Another reason I cannot take the far left seriously. I still read them. The things they aspire to are noblesque and the ways they want to reach them leave me in stitches.

PXVZP

I won't be needing Prozac, Xanax, Valium, Zoloft, or Paxil after all. My anxiety/panic attack about my running capabilities appears to be much ado about nothing. I can run after all. It just appears that I actually need to run in order to build up my muscles. Very wierd concept. You'd figure that if you ran comfortably fast at one point, you'd be able to run comfortably fast forever regardless of training. Ah, the young and deluded. We just don't learn. And if anyone comments about how I'm not so young any more, give me a call because I have a special gesture and phrase just for you. I'm not sure it's even found here, but it could be. (By the way, I've never been more excited about a book in my life. Even Liz likes it. It belongs in all personal libraries. It's that cool.)

Too Much Too Soon?

I've run three times over the past 10 days for a total of 10 miles and my ITBs are already sore??? I'm breaking down more quickly than I thought. Good thing I have those amazing metabolism genes.

What's Wrong with Foie Gras?

Absolutely nothing and yet when a plate of foie gras terrine came to the table last night, no one would eat it except for myself and one other. Let them have their hummus, their lobster, their chorizo. I'll take the buttery, engorged duck liver goodness. I can still taste it. Mmmmmmm. Terrine is good, but what I wouldn't do for seared foie gras. Now that is heaven. Looks like I need to drop some hints to the next vendor. Just kidding. I wouldn't do that. Pass the envelope please.

On the Road Again

Well, not exactly. It was more like the treadmill. Three miles. First time in three or four months that I've run. It felt good to stretch my legs doing something other than trying to reach for the remote with my toes. I could bore you all with how my chest felt (bad) or how slow I was going (9:15 pace) or even how the multiple signs posted in the locker room banning the use of cell phones due to men taking pictures of naked men for their after-gym viewing pleasure kind of skeeved me out, but I won't. Let's talk about genetics.

I've been the first to complain about how screwed I've been due to my parents choosing that particular moment to mix their genes together to form me. If they'd have waited an hour or two, I'm sure that I'd be 6'3, 190, with the ability to jump, a genius, and better looking than I already am. Seriously, where did these eyebrows come from. It's like I have a giant fuzzy caterpillar on my forehead. Well, if I'm going to complain about the things I've been batsued with, I might as well do the noble thing and brag about those things I've been blessed with. Actually, it's not things, just a thing and before you think that I'm just a dirty little 32 year old, it's not that thing. You guys are seriously ill. I wouldn't talk about Wilbur on a family site like this.

So my blessing is my metabolism. Before I ran the other day, I stepped on the scale, like I always do, but hadn't done in 3.5 months. I was nervous. What had the holidays done to me? What had my inactivity done to me? My pants were definitely snug. Please, not 160. Please not 160. I was at 151 the last time I ran. My ideal racing weight is 148. So what did all of those tamales, menudo, gravy (I drink it straight from the boat sometimes it's so delicious), and more candy than I care to think about at the moment do to me? Three pounds. I weighed in at 154 and this was after lunch. I almost started to cry. I was so happy. So thank you mom and dad for this magical gift. I seriously appreciate it.