This and That
I’ve had an interesting last two weeks. There was nothing in the daily routine that was particularly interesting—it was the random interruptions to that routine that were interesting
For instance, one of the routine things I do is go to the local health club and work out 3 days a week. The typical workout includes running on the treadmill, lifting heavy weights, and other exercise against resistance. During this time I can’t help but notice that a number of very attractive women are also working out. We generally don’t converse, but go about our business with considerable determination. However, guys being guys, we usually suck in the gut and twitch a bicep or two when one of these attractive females walks by. Hey, I’m a guy. We do these things. We can’t help it.
After a vigorous workout I take a quick shower and head to the whirlpool/hot tub. Usually I have it all to myself, but one day last week one of those attractive females I mentioned was luxuriating in the big tub. As soon as I saw her, or what I thought was a her since I don’t wear my glasses in the hot tub, I sucked in the gut and did the best I could with the bicep. I strode manfully to the stairs and, with sucked-in gut, started to descend into the water. Unfortunately my foot slipped on the top stair and I started to fall forward. I caught myself and with considerable effort propelled myself back toward upright. I actually misjudged “upright” a bit and started to fall backward toward the wall. With another great effort, which included wildly flailing arms, I forced my body forward and again went right though the “upright” position.
Was there any way I could regain my dignity and continue my impressive descent into the water? I did the only thing that I thought might accomplish that—I did an approximation of a swan dive into the hot tub. Actually, the approximation wasn’t all that close. I landed pretty much on my now unsucked gut and splashed about 400 gallons of water on the attractive female. Her beautifully coiffeured hair that she had been keeping meticulously dry was now limp wet strings. I recovered as best I could and spoke to her for the first time, “I love to dive into the whirlpool, don’t you?” Although she didn’t say anything, I could tell she was impressed.
Speaking of impressing women, last week I visited with family in Alabama and Georgia. I started in Acworth, Georgia, with eldest son, Roger, doing a bit of trout fishing in the cool clear mountain streams of north Georgia. I caught some trout in the vicinity of 12 inches—that’s two trout at 6 inches each. The father/son bonding was a good thing. Roger let me drive his BMW Z-3 to Alabama to visit more family. I have lusted after a BMW Z-3 for years—ever since James Bond drove one in Goldeneye. A couple of years ago I took a poll among female college students, inquiring if driving a Z-3 would enhance my chances of attracting chicks. They all agreed it would. So you can imagine my heightened expectations when I approached Auburn, Alabama, the hometown of Auburn University. The weather was beautiful and I was driving with the top down. I could imagine the good-looking young women trying to climb in the car when I stopped for a traffic light.
Lo and behold when I stopped at the traffic light at the very famous Toomer’s Corner in Auburn, there were three lovely coeds waiting to cross the street. Two of the three were blond and all had on matching short shorts in the orange and blue Auburn colors. One was particularly beautiful. She had long black hair and the darkest eyes I have ever seen. She was gorgeous. She was the one who spoke. She said, “I’d give anything—anything—for a ride in your Beamer.” I said, “Jump in.” We drove down some of the winding rural roads of Lee County Alabama. The BMW Z-3 does its best work on winding rural roads. It was a beautiful day; I had a beautiful companion with her long black hair blowing in the wind. What more could one ask? The trip lasted about 2 ½ hours. It was a very satisfactory trip.
I told you I could imagine it and I did. I imagined the whole thing.
In Alabama, I got to visit with three of my sisters, assorted in laws, my stepmother, one more son, and some nieces and nephews. We had good food, good margaritas, and good cigars, provided my sisters. All in all it was a great trip.
I drove the Beamer back to Georgia and reluctantly turned it in to son Roger. I hinted strongly that should he ever be at loss for what to get me for Christmas he shouldn’t worry himself unduly; he should just look around his garage for an old green car that no one was using at the time.
I visited with son Keith and got to watch grandson Brian play Little League baseball. I even got to help him warm up before the game. He thought I threw the ball like an old man. Although Brian’s team didn’t technically win the game (the other team was ahead by 15 runs and the picky umpire declared the game over), Brian batted 1.000 and that was good enough for me. After the game the team and assorted parents and grandparents went to the Dairy Queen for after-game snacks. It has been a long time since I deliberately enjoyed the company of a dozen 8 to 9 year old boys. I learned some new 8-year old jokes involving boogers. That, too, was interesting.
If there is nothing between the word “interesting” and this sentence, it is likely that some one edited out the “booger” joke.