Dead Architects

This has been a kind of funny morning (7/11). I went to the Y for some cardio on the treadmill (with Lady Gaga and Madonna on my new-ish, noise-cancelling earbuds), came home to get ready for a writing session, and had a bout of the blahs. It’s times like this when I wonder if I don’t have seasonal depression, but rather depression-depression, and is this a function of getting older or is life in hippy Eugene just an extended, long-play version of the first part of the theme song to *Friends*: “when it hasn’t been your day, your week, your month, or even your year.” Or maybe morning tea (with three lumps of White Death) is propping me up more than I realize.

Cue angsty Alanis Morissette music. Insert Capricorn-esque fretting about legacy here. Insert pondering dubious connections to various Eugene communities here. Insert musing about the proto-beach-ball behind my belly button as I reach for another square of chocolate here. Close out with Annie Lennox’s “Money Can’t Buy It.”

I checked out a random book at the library: “Architects of Oregon: a Biographical Dictionary of Architects Deceased - 19th and 20th Centuries.” I will confess that the typeface used for the directory headers was the real reason I wanted to look at it, but once I got the book home I discovered the B, the D, the R, and the S are the only letter designs that are interesting. The book lists Doyle, the architect who designed the original buildings of Reed College (and the Doyle Owl), and the guy who designed Shelton McMurphy House in Eugene, and The First Ever Licensed Woman Architect in Oregon.

This is a book about architects for architects, and not about architecture. One detail that struck me as I was reading was that the architects’ buildings’ descriptions rely on the reader being familiar with the buildings. Since I’m only familiar with the Reed and Eugene buildings, I couldn’t imagine what styles other buildings were using much beyond the generic “bungalow” or “arts and craft” or “inspired by Ruskin.”

Lots of folks were born in the 1800s–so lots of thumbnail photos of handlebar mustaches, sideburns, cravats and ties, formal jackets, and bowler hats. Their parents came from the Midwest States by Ox-Drawn Wagon or The Old Country and there’s quite of few of them who took a non-traditional path to architecture: either by defying their parents and running away to architecture college; or somehow scraping together enough wherewithal to get into an architecture program; or by starting as a teenaged construction worker, becoming a draftsman, and working up the architectural office ranks to fully ranked architect. Lots of folks practiced across both World Wars. And, as the sub-title says, they’re all dead.

It also has a bunch of short entries that end “Nothing else is known about him.” Which implies that somewhere in Oregon there are houses or buildings still standing which are designed by unknown architects; or, probably more likely, demolished or repurposed sites that are the only remaining echo of a century old designer. (Pause to be momentarily overwhelmed by the lyrics of Peter Gabriel’s *Mercy Street* (“…all of the buildings, […] were once just a dream in somebody’s head…”).) This, of course, gives me license to imagine forbidden, gay, or forbidden gay lovers. Or a secret, Free-Mason/Golden Dawn adjacent cabal of mystic architects who have faked their deaths. Or dueling architecture firms with Ninjas/Jedi/Sith/secret agents. Or proscribed architecture because There Are Some Houses Mankind Should Not Build.

I am pretty sure Insane Architecture of Madness and Portals are involved.

July Fitness

July is almost half-way done and our yard is flowering. This year we have an abundance of artichokes blooming; their purple crowns are a favorite with the bees. The gladiolas Mark planted earlier are growing taller than the foxglove; the hummingbirds love them. And the iris has given way to purple phlox.

After about six months of Mark dropping hints that I could join him for yoga at the local YMCA (yoga isn’t my cup of tea, though), I’ve re-started my fitness regime. This involves wearing a fitness tracker that talks with my mobile, and spending time on a health app keeping a food diary of weighed out serving portions. And waking up early and going to the Y to either swim, or run on an elliptical, or clink weights. Or sit in the hot tub.

I want to say the increase in activity has been good for my mood, so yay. If I can continue to exercise consistently through September, I’m hoping habit will carry me through the Very Very Long Grey Months around the Winter Solstice. I also want to say that my body is thinking about beginning to look a little more toned, so also yay.

I’m surprised by my sleep patterns: based on motion and heart rate, I wake up a lot more during the night than I realized and I actually sleep a lot less than the seven or eight hours I thought I was getting. It would be interesting to correlate when the tracker thinks I’m in REM sleep with an actual EEG.

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The other weekend I went dancing. Mark opted out. The producers of the dance were the same folks who produced the Pride After-party.

I arrived at a local Queer/Pagan bar a little after 9 PM, when the event started. The music was pumping out, folks were around the bar and tables, and the dance floor was empty.

The theme of the dance was “Hanky Panky”; folks were supposed to wear a colored bandana in one of their back pockets to signify what kind of sexual activities they’re into. Since there is no hanky for “My husband stayed home, and I’m just here to dance,” my back pockets were bare and I wore a black T-shirt with a rampant rainbow unicorn on it. In retrospect, I should have worn a mirror-ball keychain… perhaps with a T-shirt reading “My ball-and-chain is a disco ball.”

I ordered a cola product and inspected the decor. This is somewhere between a theatre production of the Addams Family, an occult bookstore, a Hot Topic shop, and a leather bar—with a covered and fenced-in porch on the side.

I finished my drink, figured someone had to be the first person dancing, and headed to the stage end of the bar. The DJ, smiling, left his control panel, bounded past a Saint Andrew’s Cross and a bondage bench, underneath the big screen showing campy and risqué videos, through the strobing and whirling stage lights, past a dancer’s cage, and met me on the dance floor. “You’re early!” he said, and then introduced himself. Technically the dance’s start time was 9—but things wouldn’t get started until about 10 or 10:30.

This was fine by me, because I wouldn’t have to worry about stepping on somebody or thwacking them with an upthrust arm accidentally while I shook the rust off of my dance moves—which I’ll be the first to admit are a cross between cha-cha, the fox-trot, an aerobics routine, and a ritual summoning.

The music was a fun repeat of the mix during the previous week’s After Party, and, luckily, not quite as loud, as I had forgotten my ear plugs at home. The video on the big screen was a slightly more X-rated version of the previous week’s PG-13 video.

The dance floor filled up, and then go-go boys in day-glow fetish-wear jumped onto the stage. I’m not sure if they were dancers who strip, or strippers who dance, but at least they seemed to be having fun. Especially in the cage. My sense is that they had friends in the audience.

I danced and danced, and briefly re-connected with a queer pagan acquaintance I hadn’t seen in about two years; he went back to dancing with his partner, who was in a wheelchair.

Just a quickly as it had filled up, around 11:30, the dance floor cleared. I remember this used to happen thirty years ago at Perry’s On Pearl: you’d be dancing to the music, look up, and realize that about half of the dancers had left, presumably with each other. The energy of the room would shift from summer lovin’ to autumnal lean and prowling.

When I stepped out onto the smoking patio looking to chat up my acquaintance and his partner, I realized A) it was cooler out here; B) oh yeah, this was where people actually smoked, and; C) a bear in a leather jockstrap and harness wasn’t just waving hi, he was offering me a joint.

Actually, I’m pretty sure he was offering my hair a joint.

I smiled and said, “Thanks; I don’t smoke.”

“What?” he said in mock-horror. “A man dancing with long grey hippie hair doesn’t smoke weed?” (See, I was right; my hair had scored.)

“It’s true,” I said. “Thanks anyway.” —Not realizing until the next day when Mark told me that the leather bear was flirting with me that I missed the sub-text and was completely off script.

Note To Self: Next time, compliment a leather bear on his gear and ask him where he shops.

I went back inside. While the fantasy cater-waiter dance scene from the movie “Jeffry” played on the screen behind him, a lone go-go boy whirled some LED poi in front of a mostly empty dance floor. Which was too bad, because if I had to choose, the go-go boy with the whirling lights was the most interesting one on stage, and he deserved more of an audience.

The night had reached an inflection point. A long time ago, someone taught me the difference between staying at a party because you’re having fun and staying at a party because you’re waiting for something to happen. If one is waiting for something to happen, one either needs to make something happen or leave. Even with the disco nap I’d taken that afternoon, I was feeling a little tired after about two and a half hours of almost solid dancing. So it was time to leave.

The next day my fitness tracker reported that I’d taken 6,183 steps and that I’d burned through 586 calories during my 95 minute “Aerobic Workout.” I can tell from the graph of my heart rate when I was enjoying dancing the most, but, alas, I can’t tell from the valleys and peaks where the poi-whirling go-go boy or the leather bear are.

I can, however, find Mark.

Weekend Tile Wiggling

It's rainy, so we can't be outside in the yard.   We're lucky that both of us can work from home and The Child can do "enrichment" tasks on-line.

On the gym front:   Sunday I did a 30 minute power walk of the neighborhood (while listening to my Gym Mix), carefully maintaining social distance by walking on the other side of the street from everyone.  There were a lot of folks out power walking.  

Monday, I did some dumbbell work with the 8 lb dumbbells that I own.  I wish I had 15 lb ones, because I have to do a lot of reps to feel like I'm doing anything at all.  Aoife is not helpful at all for doing a home gym routine, as both Mark and I have discovered when trying to do anything approaching yoga or sit-ups.

I made this zellij pattern over the weekend, and it was relaxing to do so.  I am going to see if I can use it as a Zoom background.

Gym Etiquette

Gym Post:  Went to the gym Wednesday for the Push-Pull Routine.

While I was there, I watched someone do some kind of bending exercise with a thirty pound barbell weight on his shoulders.  As I watched how his spine (and not his hips) was bending, I kept thinking that he was going to throw his lower back out.  It was one of those awkward moments where on one hand you don't want someone to hurt themselves, but on the other hand, you're not a trainer and maybe that's the way the exercise is done.

 I know "Hey, um, I think you're doing that wrong," isn't one of the top five things I want to hear when I'm working out.

Wildlife on a Sunday Evening

 Sunday evening, Mark and I went to Delta Ponds.  Mark really wanted to see some beavers.  We got there about 5:40 or so, a few minutes before sunset.  I was very glad I had listened to Mark when he said to wear the wool cloak over my already existing two layers.

In the distance, herons roosted in the trees; it's their nest-building season.  I did wish we had come in the morning, because the sunlight would have been shining on the birds instead of sinking behind them, and the light for photography would have improved during our visit.  

The ducks and the geese flew in to search for overnight spots along the shore.  We saw a lot of nutria.  There were many, many gnawed stumps of  trees where the beavers had been busy, but we only saw the new dam they've constructed.  

By 6:30 most of the daylight was gone, and we made our way home.

The sky was clear-ish, and I took photographs of the Moon, Taurus, and the Pleiades.  When the Moon is half-full, it's difficult to photograph it with stars because the Moon washes everything out.


Went to the Gym Monday for the aerobic routine.  I managed to do all of the sets, including the burpees at the end -- so, yay me!  This means that I'm a little sore all over today (I'm also going to blame hefting concrete pavers around Sunday).

Moon and Venus

The Moon is getting close to Venus.  It's supposed to be nearer tomorrow, but given the penchant for cloudy skies in late Winter, I figured I should take pictures now.  In a few more days, the Moon will sail past Aldebaran and the constellation Taurus.

While I was setting up, Cicero jumped up on The Fort and just happened to line up with the crescent moon.  I'm not sure why he was up on the very top rail of The Fort; maybe he likes to be as high as possible in an attempt to survey as much of the neighbors' yards as he can. 

On the Writing Front:  I've been cleaning up a 20,000 word manuscript.  Thank goodness for the computer's ability to speak text -- I've found a couple of phrase echos and a number of stupid clerical errors.  I also ran into a weird Scrivener bug where it would display one version of my text if I was looking at it on a scene document-by-document basis and an earlier version if I was looking at it on a pan-scene Folder basis.   I ended up having to create a new Scrivener file and copy-and-paste the scene documents in. 

On the Gym Front:  I went to the gym Monday (2/24) and did the Push-Pull Routine.  I went kind of late and felt tired the next day.  So tired, that I made Writing Day Hot Bath With Candles and Recordings of Singing Bowls Day and skipped the gym Wednesday. 

Gym and Involuntary Equipment Interlock-Out

Gym Report:  Made it to gym Wednesday and managed to do the Push-Pull Workout -- since I went about a half-hour later than I normally do, I had to get creative near the end just to get onto a machine.  I'm sure there must be a word or phrase for mixing up one's routine to accommodate other gym-folk and then getting stuck on the floor waiting for the machine for your last routine to become free for use.

I ended up having to improvise standing overhead triceps cable pulls and seated (or in this case, kneeling) overhead biceps cable pulls on some other equipment and skip the lat cable pull-downs completely.

When this sort of thing happens driving somewhere, I call it 'cascading traffic fail," ...although cascading traffic fail is more like, you leave 30 seconds late, so you hit a traffic light when it's red, and then a school bus turns off of the side road and lets children off in front of you, so then you get caught in the congestion ten blocks down, and therefore you get into the parking lot two seconds after an undeserving SUV takes up the last two open parking stalls.

I think the gym thing should be called involuntary equipment interlock-out.

Monday Post-Migraine Gym

Went to the gym Monday.  And did the Aerobic Routine.  Okay, full confession, I skipped out on the burpees.  I  think I get extra points for going because earlier, I had one of my flashing-lights migraines--which meant I felt a little off and tired, and occasionally, my head felt like it was being pressed between two very firm pillows.

Owls, Writing, and Gyms

This is a picture of Dmitri, a Eurasian Eagle-Owl.  Eagle-Owls have bright orange eyes, in contrast to other owls, which have yellow eyes. I like this photo because Dmitri is looking to the left, which shows off the structure of his face more clearly than if he were looking straight into the camera.  Also, he's got a bit of a contrapposto pose.

On the writing front:  Tuesday night was not the best writing night, I started a little late and I was wound up from a political discussion.  I found an old manuscript from a while back that would like to submit.  I need to do a couple of passes on it for clunky language, some staging errors, and dated cell phone usage.   Okay, and the off-stage scene should come on-stage.

Wednesday, I went to the gym and did the aerobic routine.

Gym Mysticism

Gym Report:  Went Wednesday (1/8) and did the old "Push-Pull" routine.  Went Friday (1/10) and did the new Aerobic Routine.  I was planning on going Thursday, but I felt a little tired and run down, so I stayed home and did domestic chores instead.  I'm planning to have a full night of dancing Saturday night, so that will be my workout for the weekend.

This has been a busy week as it is the first week of classes and everyone's back.

Lately, I've been skimming through old books on English 20th Century mysticism and the Tree of Life.  The thing that strikes me most about the magical systems therein is how prominent the body/spirit and body/mind (and male/female) splits are.  "As Above, So Below," is all very well and good, but it sets the stage for all the dichotomies to be ordered on the "higher/lower" scale.   My own thought about it is that it would be interesting to try a system that isn't so linear (from lower to higher) and have instead a dynamic cyclical one.

Gym Cats

Mark and I went to see Cats Sunday night.  Neither of us was quite sure what all of the negative reviews were about.  It's "Cats," the 1980's dance review, only with CGI.  The players are supposed to be in fuzzy unitards and dance like felines.  It's a dance review, like "The Nutcracker," so it's more about show-casing dance (and song) numbers than it is about any coherent plot.  And the movie did a better job providing a coherent plot than any of the stage performances I've seen.

Mark thought maybe it was too surreal for a lot of folks.  I guess I just took the visual craziness in stride and appreciated the visual richness.   

The movie did fall back on some slap-stick, which seemed unnecessary, but may have been a bid to make it more accessible.  Dame Judy Dench as Deuteronomy and Sir Ian McKellen as Gus the Theatre Cat actually acted in their roles, and we enjoyed their performances.  I think the only choice I would have made differently would have been to make Grizabella more sorrowful than weepy -- although I did like the choice to make her angry and frustrated instead of the usual needy listlessness.  

The most annoying thing about the movie was the other audience members (about eight) who had come to the movie as some kind of joke and whispered and tittered to themselves the entire time.

Went to the gym last Friday (1/3) and did the original routine.  This meant that I managed to visit four times last week.  I'm feeling like maybe I could go to the gym four times a week, up from three... this might be easier during the holidays when I don't have to play Dad Taxi.   It also might be over-doing it.  

Went to the gym Monday (1/6) and did the Aerobic routine.  I still need to tweak the opening songs in my gym mix so they aren't too fast or too slow.  Also, my right earbud keeps falling out of my ear... I'm not sure what's up with that, but it means that I have to stop periodically to reseat it.  

I'm not sure if it's the music, or if my stamina is improving, but I felt less wiped out ad the end of Monday.  I really need to work on my dead-lifts, because I have very little flexibility in my hamstrings, which means I'm likely flexing my back instead of hinging at the hips when I'm doing them.  

Now, of course, I'm imagining gym cats.  I think one would be a Maine Coon Cat named Titania who naps among the fish-oil supplements, greets gym goers at the front desk, and oversees the treadmills and elliptical machines.  Not to be confused with Rumbasleeks, the leaping aerobics instructor cat, who is much leaner and has shorter fur.   Maybe they have an on-again-off-again romance, the telling of which uses anagrams of "gymnasium"....  

Moon, Saturn, Venus and Jupiter

 The Friday after Thanksgiving, I managed to get some photographs of the Moon, Saturn, Venus and Jupiter.


We had some computer problems shortly afterward which prevented a proper download of the photos from my camera.  (The camera can do some wireless transfers to a mobile device, but I noticed the image quality was vastly inferior to using a cable to directly copy image files to a hard drive.)


At the end of a day of decorating my folks' Christmas tree, I excused myself and went out to the southern slope of the hill where they live.


The crescent moon was out, but none of the other planets was visible.  I was glad that I got out a little early, because it allowed me to find a good spot to set up the tripod.   Then I waited and tried not to fiddle around with the zoom too much (which requires re-focusing).


I did wish that I'd managed to have a clear sky several nights prior when the Moon would have been much closer to Venus and Jupiter, but the Moon that Friday made it easier to find Saturn.






Writing: I got out of the house Monday and edited a long non-fiction piece that's been rattling around.  It needs some cleaning up, and I should decide if I'm going to post it in installments to this blog or if I'm just going to push it out to Amazon or something.


Gym report:  went to the gym Monday and did the new routine.  I allowed myself a ten day break; the last time I was at the gym was Friday, December 20.  I got some earbuds over the break and tried them out; I have to say that not hearing nihilistic music about some dude's co-dependent relationship and general mess of a life was kind of nice.

Horrible Day and Gym Report

Yesterday was a bad day.  I was in a funk (probably from the weather), ordered equipment for work came in with missing parts (again), a story in the mail got returned when the market it was at folded, and I noticed a poem about cultural appropriation someone had put up that appeared to bash white gay "witchy" males specifically.  I fought off feelings of being dead inside by propping up the corners of my mouth with my index fingers and whispering "Let's pretend to be happy."

I went to the gym, although I didn't want to.  And did The Old Routine.  I've lost a little bit of strength in my biceps, if barbell weight is any measure, but the routine felt good and I wasn't totally wiped out by the end,

Afterward, Mark and I went out of dinner while The Child attended a school function.

The New Routine

Here's my new aerobic routine [edited 11-13-19 with additional instructions from my trainer]:

Lying Chest Press:  You can't hide your lying eyes, and I guess you can't hide your lying chest, either.    Hold a 30 lb barbell at about medium width (slightly wider than shoulders).  Lie down on a bench, with the bar of the barbell at about sternum level; upper-arm should make about a 45 degree angle with the trunk.  Lift barbell, being careful not to pop at the top.  Repeat until your arms fall off (about 24 reps).  Final reps should be slow and controlled.

Suitcase Crunch:  Lie down on bench.  Knees bent and heels on one end of bench. Arms at ears.  Tuck your chin to activate abs.  Squeeze abs and bring elbows to knees.  Exhale on the squeeze.  Don't tense up and try to hold elbows and knees together forever.  Release; making sure to tap heels on the end of the bench.  Repeat until you feel like a worn out accordion (about 24 reps).  Final reps should be slow and controlled.

Jump Squat:  Start standing straight.  Move hips back into a squat while bringing hands forward to counter-balance.  Straighten with a little jump.  Little.  Make sure to keep feet and knees under hips so you don't torque the outside or inside of your legs.  Repeat until you think your quads are going to pop your kneecaps off (about 24 reps).

20 second rest.

Standing Bent-Over Row:  Pick up a 30 lb barbell and hold it in an overhand hold at about shoulder width.  Straddle the bench so that you can squeeze it with the upper part of your shins. . . and then you do a row, just touching the bench with the center part of the barbell in such a way that you don't throw out your lower back, which probably involves hinging your hips and not bending your knees as much as you probably are.  [Edited: maintain eye contact with your reflection in the mirror to help keep your back straight.]  This should feel like a row, except with more leg work.

Wide-leg Suitcase Crunch:  Lie down on bench.  [Edited:  Tuck chin.]  Knees bent and heels on one end of bench.  Knees spread apart in a way that you hope doesn't make you look too much like a dance extra in a Madonna show.   Arms straight up and palms together.  Squeeze abs and bring hands/arms between legs so that outside elbows are touching inside knees.  Release; making sure to tap heels on the end of the bench.  Repeat until you feel like a worn out 80's Pop Star (about 24 reps).  Final reps should be slow and controlled.

Sumo Jump Squat:  Stand with a wide stance.  Feet should be turned out a little so your knees travel over them.  Feel your chi.  Bring your fists up so they rest over your pectoral muscles.  Move hips back into a squat.  [Edited: maintain eye contact with your reflection in the mirror to help keep your back straight.]  There's no way anyone's going to push you out of a sumo ring.  Straighten.  Repeat until your quads are going to explode (about 24 reps).

20 second rest.

Seated Overhead Press:  Pretty straight-forward.   Hold a 30 lb barbell in a medium, overhand hold.  Sit on the bench.  Raise the barbell over your head; lower it in a controlled fashion until the bar is about even with your nose.  Repeat until your biceps screaming for you to stop is louder than the verses of "I'm too sexy for my shirt" playing in your head.  Final reps should be slow and controlled (about 20).

Seated Knee Tuck:  Sit on the bench with your legs on the same side of and perpendicular to the long axis of the bench.  Grasp the bench with both hands on either side of your hips.  Lean back a little.  Bring both knees up to your chest.  Exhale.  Lower your lets until your feet touch the floor.  Repeat until you feel the Fire in your Belly (about 24).

Long Jump:  It's long jumps.  Like in track.  Only without a sand pit.  Crouch, hinging at the hips and bending at the knees.  Swing arms for forward motion.  Jump.  Pause after you land to make sure you've set properly.  Repeat until your legs feel funny (about 24).

20 second rest.

Seated Overhead Extension:  Pretty straight-forward.   Hold a 30 lb barbell in a medium, underhand hold.  Sit on the bench.  Raise the barbell over your head; lower behind you, it in a controlled fashion until the bar is behind your head.  Repeat until you no longer care that, unless you do this exercise, your triceps will look like the "bat wings" your 7th grade math teacher displayed every time she wrote an equation at the blackboard (about 20).  

Bicycle Crunch:  Lie down on the bench.  Heels at the end of the bench, knees bent.  Hands at ears, elbows forward.  [Edited:  Tuck chin to engage abs.]  The idea is to bring alternate knees forward, while simultaneously bending at the sternum so your cross-elbow touches whichever raised knee.  While breathing.  And not wiggling off of the bench.  Or getting confused by the count because only right-elbow-to-left knee counts.  Repeat until your breath runs out.  (About 40.  Really).

Jump Lunge:  Step forward with one foot as if you were lunging with a fencing sword.  Only instead of swinging an imaginary sword, you want to rest your fists over your pectorals.  Your leading foot should be under your leading knee.  Your weight should be on your forward foot.  Your feet should be parallel.  The heel of your back foot should be off the ground.    Jump into the air and switch the position of your feet.  Pause to make sure you've landed properly.  Repeat until you're short of breath (about 24)

20 second rest

Seated Curl:  Just what it sounds like.  Sit on the bench.  Keep your elbows under your shoulders.  Hold a 30 lb barbell in an underhand hold.   Curl your biceps, bringing the barbell up to shoulder level.  Exhale.  Slowly lower the barbell.  Repeat until you wonder if that squeezing sensation in your arm is a joint problem (about 24).

Double Leg Raise:  Lie down on the bench.  With your legs straight, lift your feet.  Place your hands under your glutes to provide stability (note to self:  don't put your thumbs under your lumbar vertebrae because you always underestimate how much it hurts your thumbs).  Slowly lower your still straight legs until they're about 20 degrees from horizontal (your knees should be level with your eyes).  Raise legs.  Repeat (about 20).

Rocket Jump:  Crouch on the floor, sort of like a frog.  Lift your hands from the floor to the ceiling above.  Let gravity pull you back down to the crouch.  Pause and set.  Repeat until gravity wins or you start to feel dizzy (about 10) ("...I'm not the man they think I am at home; oh, no no...").

20 second rest

Box Squat:  Eventually, this will involve resting a 30 lb barbell across one's back (not the neck).  But at the moment I'm concentrating on doing the form correctly, since I want to do all of these squats the wrong way by isometrically moving only my knees instead of hinging backward from the hips.   Stand facing away from the end of the bench.  Pretend you're going to sit down, moving backward from the hips, until you just barely touch the bench.  [Edited:  maintain eye contact with your reflection to keep your back straight.]  Straighten back into a stand.  Repeat (about 24).

Assisted Sit-up:  We haven't covered this yet because during the initial training, we accidentally skipped over it, and didn't realize it until after I was sitting on the bench resting my head between my knees.  It sounds like a sit-up, but I haven't figured out the assisted part, yet.

Split Jack:   This is like a jumping jack, at least in the feet and legs part.  But instead of clapping one's hands over one's head, one touches the floor with one hand and one's knee with the other; then you alternate.  Keep eye contact with yourself in the mirror so you keep your posture straight.  No Fosse Hands!  (about 24)

20 second rest

Straight Leg Deadlift:  It's easy for me to this one wrong.  Stand facing away from the end of the bench.  Don't lock your legs.  Hold the 30 lb barbell in a shoulder-width, overhand hold at waiste level.  Hinge from the hip and move it backward.   Keep your arms striaght.  This will move the barbell down.  [Edited:  maintain eye contact with your reflection to keep your back straight.  Straighten the legs, but don't lock them.  Feel the stretch in the hamstrings for just a second, then, straighten back to a standing position. ] Um... 10?

Russian Twist:  I'm pretty sure this isn't a drink.  It might be something involving soccer balls with handles on them.  [Edited:  Close, but with no soccer balls.  Lay down on the bench.  Spread your knees to stablize your pelvis and lower back.  Tuck your chin.  Bring your palms together (or alternately, press your fists together) just in front of your sternum.  Rotate your trunk so that your palms alternately touch the inside of your knees (it's like a metronome).  The motion should be like a cable-twist, only without the cable.  Exhale with each touch.  

By this time in the training I'd been doing more than 24 reps of all of the above exercises, and I think I might have been swaying and turning interesting colors.  In any case, I was out of breath, shaking, and wondering vaguely if I was going to throw up -- so my trainer had me cool down with my head between my legs.  For about ten minutes.  Every so often I'd try sitting up and decide that that probably wasn't a good thing... but eventually I managed to get back to my feet.

Skater:  No idea what this one is; probably not an Alternative Rock Band.  [Edit:  It's pretty much the same motion as RollerBlading, only without RollerBlades.  Put your fists over your pectorals.  Push with your left leg to the right; slow yourself to a pause with your right leg.  Repeat. ]

20 second rest

Weighted Suitcase Crunch:   "That's a pretty nice suitcase you've got there.  Shame if something should happen to it."   Maybe this is like the Suitcase Crunch from earlier in the routine, but somehow I'm hanging onto a 30 lb barbell?  [Edited:  Lay down on the bench, with a 30 lb barbell in a middle over-hand hold.  Hold one:  straight up, elbows tucked near your hips, bent 90 degrees.  Hold two:  elbows bent about 90 degrees, but the barbell starts over your head.  The idea is to keep your arms in a static position.  Tuck your chin to engage abs.  Bring the barbell to your knees, hold a half-second, and exhale.  Release, but keep your chin tucked and abs engaged.  Repeat. ]

Crunch:  Wait.  Crunch.  Not a breakfast cereal.  This is a sit-up... yes?  [Edit:  No.  Lay down on the bench.  Heels at the end of the bench.  Tuck chin to engage abs.  Straiten your arms, point your index finger so it's pointing at your feet.  Crunch your abs so that your hand moves forward about a palm-width and your index fingers are touching your calves.  Exhale.  Release so that your "trigger thumb" is resting against your outer thigh.  Repeat.]

Burpee:  I figure this is the full on donkey-kick-plus-rocket-jump routine some gym teacher in the distant past had us do.  [Edit:  Well, not exactly.  Start in a standing position.  Drop to a frog position.  Pause.  Extend your back legs so you go into a controlled plank; don't let your butt sink or your back do a slinky imitation.  Pause.  Go back to the frog position.  Pause.  Stand.  It's all about control, not speed.]  Repeat until your legs say, "I'm through with the donkey-kick thing" and you lay on the ground like a spawning salmon just before the vultures come.  (Um 4, maybe 7)

Weekend Updates

Gym report:  I met with my trainer today (11/7) and went over a new routine.  It's more aerobic, and the sets are designed to repeat reps until exhaustion.  There are a number of new exercises, but we only got through about four fifths of them before I had to sit down -- I don't know what happened, it felt like a sugar crash or heat stroke; I'm guessing I managed to run out of ATP... Or something.  

The other theory is that I was doing so many jumps, squats, and crunches that my body was going into shock in protest.

My trainer was pretty cool about it; I felt like a wuss.  I'm still thirty-two in my mind, but lately my body seems bent on reminding me that I'm in my mid-fifties.  

I went again Friday (11/8) and managed to get more-or-less through the new routine before stalling out during the burpees (of which I did four, if one is being charitable).  I quite obviously have little stamina when it comes to aerobic exercises.  The whole point, though, is to convince my body to start consuming the extra fat I've got stored as a bicycle tire around my waist and other areas, in the hope that my lower abdominals will start to show up at some time within the next two years.

On the migraine front.  It's possible that I've found a pattern:  too much 70% chocolate.  Maybe chocolate plus tea.  Plus a short night's sleep.  It might work out with, stay up late the night before, rush out to work without a proper snack, get distracted at work with HTML editing, documenting, and other keyboard-based support, and not notice that I've snarfed through more than a third of a Very Dark Chocolate bar and refreshed my tea about three times.  Get a migraine light-show at noon.  

  Anyway, that's one theory.  Although why it's taken five years for this to manifest is a little curious.  I've cut back chocolate to only one square in a thirty minute period, imposed a limit of only three squares a day, and pushed back the second round of More Tea to 10 AM.  We'll see what happens.  The goal is to go a month without another one of these things.

Other theories include blaming my endocrine system, tequila, my slightly twisted Progressive Lens glasses (recently re-aligned), and too much time on my mobile device. 

On the writing front, I bit the bullet and purchased a new, bulkier wireless keyboard to type on.  The old keyboard gave years of service, and I appreciate it's slimness, but I'm not missing having to stop typing to try to get the lower third of the keys to register.

Early November

The Halloween decorations are slowly going back into storage.  There's a few odd bits around:  an orange votive candle glass on the kitchen table; the bat cutout hanging from the front light; a white jack-o-lantern grinning like a skull on the backyard table, and an orange one knocked face-down to the lawn and leaves by a delinquent squirrel.  Oddly, there are still burnt orange and maroon leaves clinging to the trees out back.

On the gym front:  managed to get to the gym last Monday, Friday, and Monday and this Wednesday.  Last Wednesday I had a minor scintillation migraine, so I stayed home.  I'm finally going to meet with my trainer this week to see about an alternate work-out to mix things up, since I seem to be plateauing with my current workout.

On the writing front:  Had a passible writing night Tuesday actually writing and lightly editing a short story.  I'm still not not wildly enthusiastic about the default space, a mezzanine in a local super market, mostly because it can be really distracting there if the wrong group shows up.    I've got some stories in the mail, and it would be a good thing if there were more things out there.

On the music front:  I've discovered a new to me music group called Helium Vola.  They're a kind of German Enya, or a more Techno Stary Olsa, or a more operatic Dead Can Dance.  Some of their pieces are irritating, and seem to be more suited to a modern dance take on ritual than something to listen to -- but I'm finding many pieces that are uplifting (if in a sometimes goofy and frantic way).

Feathers in the Circle

Went to the gym Friday Night and did the regular routine.

Saturday morning Mark discovered that (presumably) one of the cats (he blames Cicero) had killed a bird and spread feathers (at least) all over the garden circle.  Of course it looks like an augury to me (similar to reading tea leaves),  but Mark forbade me from posting photos, claiming it was something The Internet didn't need to see.  

(Queues Suzanne Vega's "Predictions")

Standing at the periphery of the circle and looking at it, I tried to figure out what, if anything the feathers suggested.  The feathers have a blue tint to them, but are mostly dark -- maybe they come from a scrub jay, but I am not sure (they seem small for a jay, but too large for something like a nuthatch, chickadee, or junco).  All of the feathers are in the southern hemisphere of the circle.  There's a lot of down feathers.  Slightly east of the center of the circle, there's a square of primary feathers.  There's a scattering of secondary and down feathers closer to the southeast edge.   There's a clump of last week's mown grass midway to the southwest edge with some down feathers on it --  which looks like a body part, but is really feathered vegetation.  There's a scrap of semi-plumes halfway to the perimeter, west-southwest.   All of the feathers are in the circle, which is about eight feet in diameter; so far I haven't found any entrails, feet, head, or beaks.  

The square of primaries is made up of about six or seven feather, and is more of an open-ended box, with the opening pointing south-southeast.  The quills suggest a clockwise motion around the square box's center.

Interpreting the feathers as hands on a clock, they suggest to me ten minutes after ten (approximately).  Interpreting the clumps of feathers as events on the wheel of the year, they suggest a gathering or collection (the clockwise box) of ideas (primary feathers)... maybe a still active opportunity?  I'm not sure what down feathers and semi-plumes would signify, but the timing would around May 1 (the Ides of Spring) and later around August 15 (a week or so past the Ides of Summer).   Since the semi-plumes look worse than they actually are, perhaps this presages a bumpy event that isn't all that bad?

(Sits back...)

I suppose the primary thing the feathers in the circle tell us is that the cats caught a scrub jay.  

I'm left caught between the phrase, "Scripture is everywhere; pay attention," and that dream Mark once had decades ago where he came home and I had enchanted a string of sausages to learn the future from them and they were mad and from the frying pan they said, "Why are you asking us?  We're just sausages!"

Thursday Update

On the writing front, I sent out a manuscript and got a 24 hour turn-around rejection.  Very likely, the manuscript was too far on the fantasy side of the science-fiction/fantasy spectrum.  It's also long, so I'm not sure where to send it next.   I've been looking at old, put-aside manuscripts, and I'm coming to the conclusion that A) they don't suck quite so much as I thought, B) they've got some things in them that need polishing, C) I should get them into the mail.

On the gym front:  I went to the gym Monday and Wednesday night and did the regular routine.  I've been extending my legs out when I've been doing the bench presses, and the other night I noticed some improvement in my, uh, front lats?  side abdominals?  (looks at muscle chart) oblique external abdominis?  So yay!   I also bumped into my trainer, who says he really wants to mix up what I've been doing with a set of bench-heavy sets.

Weekend Update

Went to the gym Friday.  I went a little early, so it was a little bit more crowded.  Managed to do the regular routine, with Roman Chair curls.

Saturday, after much anxious checking and re-checking of e-mail, I learned that I'd sold a story!  I had been indulging in a bit of pre-rejection reject-o-mancy, because my memory of selling to this market before is that they contact folks a few days ahead of the sale -- so when I got the message with its "thank you for submitting your story" opening, I was certain that it was a rejection and had to re-read it several times to be sure I'd read it correctly.  More news when it's published in mid-October.

Saturday was also paint scraping day.  Last week we had a ton of rain in a half hour, which resulted in some leaks in our garage.  Right now it's raining pretty hard -- although not as hard as last week -- and our roof seems to be waterproof.  My theory is that roofing gravel got stuck up against the side of the house and some loose siding, which created a mini dam and allowed the inundation of water to work its way over the roof flashing.

Mark, who stays on top of these sorts of things, whereas I would wonder why suddenly the house has half-rotted away, decreed we had to scrape, re-caulk, prime, and re-paint that particular side of the house.  So we did.  Okay, I'm such an arctic flower that by the time 11:30AM rolled around and the sun had burnt off the morning haze, I was dying from the heat of the roofing.  So Mark did the majority of the work (mostly scraping).

Sunday, the forecast rains appeared, which postponed our priming and painting.  So we did other things, like laundry.  I finally hung a string of LEDs along the bookshelf.  I don't know why I didn't do it sooner, because it looks fairly nice, and provides a gentle night-light glow for bed-time.

Writing Weekend

Some poppies sprouted up in the back yard.  Mark's a little mystified as to how they got there.  We weren't quite sure what they were at first.  The flowers started blooming last Tuesday or Wednesday, and they must have done their thing because both blooms have dropped their petals.  More blooms seem it be in the works.  The flowers are a pretty lavender shade, and we're hoping for more volunteer plants next year.


Gym Report:  Skipped Friday and went to the gym Saturday.  I dialed back the weights to my original values, but youch, I've definitely pulled a latissimi dorsi on my left side -- possibly when I lifted Smokey in a cat carrier on the way to the vet -- which doing any kind of press quickly revealed.  I'm managed to do everything, and the exercises seemed to help loosen up where I was tight.

The universe it trying to tell me something, I think, on three separate occasions the last few days, someone has told me a variation of "Getting old means putting on a sock and pulling a muscle."


On the writing front:  Mark and The Child went with some friends to the coast, so I managed to get some work done.  Some of it was actual re-casting exposition into action.... and I'm finding it helpful to think of a recently critiqued manuscript as a detailed outline.  Or something.   Looking at the word count... not stellar progress (not quite 1000 words).   But... there was some back-story filling going on, and also some research (space beer and aereospace composite materials).  So, not a total loss.

In related news, I Did All The Laundry, made crustless quiche, diagnosed a solar LED string, created three glass tiles, watched "Age of Ultron," and administered cat meds to a cat that hates cat meds.

I got a contest rejection Friday night, which I suspected was going to happen because the market usually contacts folks about a week before the winners' announcement date, and I hadn't been contacted.


Dreams have been kind of weirder than usual, lately, with long, complicated plots.  Unfortunately, I haven't been motivated enough to arise and write them down as I wake, so I only remember the odder bits.

Last night I dreamt someone was trying to silence witnesses by driving pencils up their noses in order to make them lose the power of speech.  In a typical dream-logic hole, I don't know why this wouldn't prevent them from writing down messages.   In another dream, I was looking through a camera that made all the microbes in one's mouth light up... it was sort of a cross between a macro-lens and a microscope, and I was looking into a celebrity's mouth. . .