infobits - infopalat

At the apex of a street corner and in my glaring headlights, a Ms. Puffy tries to appear inconspicuous.

What a beautiful creature, that painted lady.

My first century of this season was two months ago. Since then, I have ceased with the long distances and mostly have just walked for minimal exercise. It's time to break out of chairlandia and go for a short run in the morning, three times a week. This starts in less than 12 hours when I, without thinking, get my ass out of bed and put on my shoes for 20 minutes.

When you get stuck in a chair or on a couch, just admit that the flab is starting to take hold and peal yourself away from the monotony. Restart with something easy and incredibly consistent.

As we touch the door to the restaurant, I quickly lower my voice and instruct Eric to whip out his camera.
The homeless guy is in paradise with his hand-cupped pigeon. The beauty of the moment is matched by the thought of dirty fingernails on an airborne rat.

We gave him $2 for the two shots.

Nick, a handsome man who has a beautiful outlook on life, helped me smooth an anxious moment yesterday without realizing it. Several months ago, we shared lunch at a picnic table during a ride. He said he had a B or B+ personality. Why stress about being the A+ person when the added stress to achieve it, whatever it is, is not worth it. For some, the added pushing causes anxiety and panic. It really matters how a person pushes and where she can find more of whatever, from the nooks and crannies, with the least amount of effort from the pushee.

Others likely view me as that A+ personality because I push, push, push myself. Perhaps therein lies the difference. I like to push myself, and it takes a special pusher to push me. Over time, trustworthy music teachers and conductors are worthy pushers.

That said, how many elements of life need to be a boot camp?

[Atop a stairwell buzzing a guy in through the outer gate and and inner door.]

The stranger ascends the wooden staircase as I wait to welcome him to the party. Stranger gets to the top, I extend my hand, we shake hands, he tells me that he is Fred as he continues past me -- hands still in handshake mode -- in search of someone he recognizes. The fucker doesn't even pause to complete proper introductions before asking me if I know so-and-so who happens to be near us.

On second thought, I ought to thank this man for saving me time getting to know anything about him. Thank you, Fred!