Good puppy.

March has been a busy month. That is no excuse, but it is a fact. Appearing in matinee performances of Witness For the Prosecution at Great Lakes. Attending rehearsals for two plays, then arriving home to clear the kitchen. Morning meetings, taking the girl to get her driver's license.

Then there is my diet, which is all fucked up. Last weekend I buckled and bought two pair of 34" pants. I almost used the "F" word but we don't say that any more, at least not in its negative connotation. I feel that pants are like a tank for goldfish, the fish is only going to grow to accommodate the size of the tank, and that so will I.

For the time being, I will track my intake. It's not a shaming device, it's a way to remind myself exactly what I am putting in my mouth. How much, and what it is.

Intake: coffee, fiber & D gummies, white bagel with oil butter & melted cheese

Distance: 2 miles
Route: Rec Center
Mood: good, yeah.
Exercises: yes

I could have gone three, I chose not to. It's been a minute. No need to exhaust myself on the first day back. Keep it up, the temperature is supposed to spike for the next two days.

2002 Playlist
Shoot the Dog - George Michael
Return to Paradise (Mark De Clive-Lowe Remix) - Shirley Horn
Shelf Wobbler - Mr. Scruff
Soul Bossanova - Skeewiff

Cooldown:
Emerge (Daft Punk Mix) - Fisherspooner

Ah, those days. Jazzy trip-hop, downbeat afterhours muzak. We thought we were adult, but childhood was about to re-emerge. It always does.

Here's a tip, keep the music playing during the exercises. It helps motivate. Why would you turn it off? What are you trying to document?

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