Originally posted November 14, 2004:
Today started out cold and blustery: fall is upon us, no joke. So, it made exercising this morning a more interesting affair, logistically. It doesn't help that it appears our heater is on the fritz (it provides a modicum of heat, but doesn't stay on the requested temperature, so blankets and mufflers are welcome additions to the modern lifestyle). So, I exercised. The bokken, being newly oiled as of yesterday, felt very good during practice.
Today was the slower side of Dance-dance Revolution exercises — the music selection is on a wheel, and going clockwise, one encounters the faster songs (after nine minutes I hit the target calorie burn and was quite ready to stop: only 31 more minutes to go), but today was the counterclockwise direction: I don't hit the target even after 40 minutes. So, this time, I added 5 more minutes, and decided to double the requirement — for each arrow, I would hit the pad twice.
Ouch. I think I understand better, viscerally, why basketball players so often require knee surgery. Even now, 12 hours later, I still feel the throbbing in my legs. Today, I worked out more, and harder, than I ever have since I've acquired this 'game'. One benefit: the 'tough' songs I couldn't fathom before (I would just stop and stare as 20 arrows passed in a matter of 3 seconds), I now did just fine.
Mother called after exercise, and she complained that my emails didn't talk about her grandchildren enough. So, for her, and for your enjoyment, I provide the following story.
I called Diane last night, as I do weekly, and we happily chatted the night away (Isabel squawked on occasion from Mama's lap, and Diane said she smiled when I addressed her -- she's now walking about, as easy as you please and has curly hair [see, Mother, it's about your grandchildren, okay?]). After I rung off, I called right back to say hello again one more time, but this time, I received a surprise.
Elena Marie: Hello?
Me: Ummmmmm, Hello, Elena Marie!
(here I panicked, because usually the conversation continues thus: I ask her health, she says she's fine and then says, "Bye!" and hangs up) (so, thinking quickly, I continued:)
Me: I need to speak to Mama, would you give her the phone?
Elena Marie: Okay ... and that's exactly what she did.
Diane told me that Elena Marie bolts to the phone whenever it rings, even though she's been asked not to pick up. I figure that since she just spoke with her papa a few moments before, she was expecting that it was I again. This time she was correct.
So, that's my story: my little girl's answering the phone now. What next? A driver's license? (choke!)