Ellipticalling, Again

Back to the elliptical over the past several days. I’m just doing twenty minute workouts. That’s okay, isn’t it? Twenty minutes is better than nothing. The twenty minute workout means I can eat an extra one hundred calories. (I like eating.)

I’m watching episodes of Parks and Recreation via Netflix streaming. Last year I was doing sixty minute sessions while working through The Sopranos. (Not via streaming, but I have more than one media consumption option because I’m technologically resourceful.)

I stopped obsessively tracking minutes and days on the thing and so am unable to provide mathematical proof of the wisdom of the purchase, but I’m glad we invested in the machine. I’d much rather go downstairs for a 20-60 minute session than drive to a gym. Downstairs is much closer, always open, and there is the Netflix that I mentioned. There is a big fan, just for me. A variable speed fan, providing more concentrated cooling than an occasional puff of air wafting down from a ceiling fan. (I like the fan.)

Less ogling opportunities, of course, although Rashida Jones has been there every day so far.

I’m still playing Kingdom Rush. I’ve thoroughly beaten the free part of the game and I feel so accomplished about that. It’s like I’m totally filling up the void inside.

Sam brought her friend into The Grotto to show him the new game. He liked it, but they moved on before long. Then they came back. Sam wanted to sit on my lap while her friend pressed up against my mouse arm and made me nervous that he might knock over a glass of water sitting nearby that I didn’t want to be so picky and untrusting as to move or nag him about it. Sam picked up her My Little Pony brush that I’ve been using on my goatee and started brushing my beard hairs. The dog showed up and found a perfect opportunity to troll for attention from three people at once, with much jostling and tail wagging.

Who is the watcher of the weight?

I can answer this one: “Me!”

I’m going to lose weight. I’ve done it before; I’m certain I can do it again. And probably gain it back, again, but for now I’m on the way down. (Or rolling the rock slowly up the hill.)

Maybe it’s trapped in a jar
Something we’ve already seen
Maybe it’s nowhere at all
Maybe this is how it’s supposed to be

– Jack Johnson, “Supposed To Be”

Dear Internet:

I’m writing to you about a recent business opportunity you sent my way. I have to confess that I’m sometimes amused by your “business opportunities.” Your contacts often have trouble with subtleties of language which makes me smile rather than lose even more faith in humanity. Still, despite my amusement, this letter is intended as a bit of a rebuke.

This is the cover of the October 1948 issue of Amazing Stories, which some neglector of intellectual property has prematurely let fall into the public domain. Project Gutenberg has a bunch of amazing artwork and history like this that you might find with a search of [science fiction covers].

I love the teaser for the featured story, The Brain: “A Giant Calculating Machine Decides To Rule The world!” A calculating machine! And it has decided to rule the world!

The Star Wars power droid turned up in some Legos and my daughter started carrying it around, calling it “R2-D2″ even though she should know better. I let it go, for now, but it made me feel uneasy.

POWER DROID. It’s a power droid. (Sharp intake of breath.) If you can’t call the action figures by their right names, maybe you’re just not old enough to play with this stuff yet.

It is?! Then let me send some Playmobil firefighters to put it out.

I have experience with this sort of thing from Ms. Ness’s third grade class. We made stop motion movies that year. With the clarity of thirty years passed by, I’m certain my group of filmmakers produced a fine short film.