A Mish Mash

I’m just going to write some crap that stood out in my mind today.




I’m getting into some daunting numbers with my sit-ups, pushups, and pull-ups. Everyday I’m trying to do at least one more than I did the day before. On the one hand it’s great because I’m improving. On the other hand I dread starting the routine because all I can think about is what a big number I have to reach. I can’t even count the pushups anymore. I have to count them in sets of ten: 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,TEN,1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9.TWENTY, and so on and so forth. I was hoping that as I improved, I would feel better, which I guess I kind of do, but in general I still feel old but I can do more exercises.

LMJ is now using “I don’t know” as an answer to the question “What are you doing?” Right now she only uses it in silly situations, but I can see a trend.

This probably makes me a bad person, but hey, I feel what I feel. Our neighbor seemingly killed herself by overdosing on sleeping pills this past Sunday. She’s the one I tried to save from some spousal abuse a couple of years ago. It was a lazy Sunday afternoon. I was drinking beer and watching the Colts stomp a mudhole into the Jets, when a couple of cop cars roll up followed by a couple of television reporters. My first thought was that dude beat her ass and someone called the cops. Then the C.S.I. vans showed up. I was more than a little disappointed – no Marg Helgenberger, no Emily Procter, no Eva La Rue. MJ noticed that all of our neighbors were in the street talking. That’s when we figured out that something was seriously wrong. My next thought was that I hoped he hadn’t killed her… but if he did kill her, man I hope it was brutal, with shotguns and chainsaws and murder/suicides. We’re going to be on the news. He didn’t do it. He’s in the military and deployed in the Middle East. She, apparently, was horribly sad and just couldn’t cope anymore. Now I feel bad.