Sunday, September 30, 2007

Sunday along the Potomac

I pushed some shoeboxes aside, pulled out the white scale, and looked at it with unease. I’ve slacked off recently with exercising, and the last few months I haven’t been eating healthy either. I nervously stepped on, and the numbers started counting up…past what I had been last time I weighed myself. They kept going, hitting 200, then 300, as my eyes widened in disbelief, and I began to panic.

I woke up. I would be lying if I said it was in a cold sweat, but nonetheless I was disturbed. Rarely do I have nightmares that clear, and recently I have been having dreams/nightmares that relate to specific parts of my life. I took it as a sign to get off my ass.

On Sunday I headed out for a walk along the Virginia side of the Potomac, starting at Lady Bird Johnson Memorial Park with my main goal being Theodore Roosevelt Island. With a camera and some tunes, I put in about 2 ½ hours of moderate exercise, walking and exploring. Am I ready to compete in fitness competitions? No. Am I still a lazy, fat ass? Yes. But it’s a start…and I got some photos out of it.

Get off your ass and explore my island!

Monday, September 17, 2007

News to me

I got back from my mini-vacation just over a week ago, but already it is far away in the past. The sunny afternoons, crashing waves, and cool nights were too brief. Much like my marriage.

We arrived at a small beachfront property on Friday. My friend’s family rents the property, and we would be sharing the space with his grandmother and some other family members.

My friend, his wife, and her friend arrived and immediately set about getting settled. It was predetermined that I would take the couch in the living room, and my friend, his wife, and her friend would take one of the bedrooms, which they also happened to be sharing with his grandmother. We all failed to notice the first sign that something was amiss, when his grandmother kept insisting that she would sleep on the couch, so that I could be in the bedroom, and “we could all be together.”

It wasn’t until later that evening out to dinner with the three of them that my friend broke the news from a telephone conversation he had just had with his aunt. “My grandmother thinks you and ______ are married.”

I nearly spewed wine from mouth. My friend’s wife’s friend (Ok, this is getting too complicated, let me just steal a page from the No Sex and the City girls, and call her “Notmywife”) lowered her head uncomfortably. The table was briefly silent save for the sound of snow-crab legs being snapped.

“Wait, what?!”

“She thinks you two are married. You know how she’s become as she’s gotten older. She gets things confused. I’ve told my aunt to assure her that you two are just friends.”

Well that certainly explained her actions from earlier, and also the odd looks she was giving Notmywife and I. The two of us laughed uncomfortably, endured the jokes from my friend and his real wife, made some jokes of our own, and ultimately chalked it up as just one more crazy part of our expected Dewey beach experience.

I cracked a crab leg, sipped my glass of wine, and smiled.

Thursday, September 6, 2007


It’s a familiar justification for a vacation. Work is kicking your ass. You need to get away from the daily grind for a little bit. Some sun, some friends, some adult beverages. It’ll make it all better. You just need to get away from it all. “It all” being work of course.

But what happens when that’s not really the case? When work is fine. When sometimes work seems to be the only thing going right in your life? When you actually find yourself not wanting to go home. You obviously need to get away from something. It’s ok to run away from work. But the rest of life…not so much.

I’m running to the beach…and I don’t care.