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Mules and Gym
Oct. 30th, 2022 12:51 pmI was gonna start with a reference to "if you Goddard it, flaunt it," but as usual I mixed up that famed French New Wave director with Traffaut, the one who actually did the Jules and Jim film. And none of this post even has to do with film, although we've seen a great one from an American-based Aussie director and a horrible one from the same director and year in the past few nights.
Working backwards: we voted today.
Well, a friend and I did. Eleanor got up yesterday to our town's only early voting site at the Senior Center. Her crutch let her jump the queue. I brought a crutch of my own-
- but I stayed out of the queue until Ann came out to take the reins. While we waited, Pepper merrily worked it as it got pretty long for 9:00 on a Sunday morning. I told everybody she was electioneering for dog catcher, on the platform of LET EM ALL OUT!
After maybe 20 minutes, we were both done. I snagged an extra sticker for her, which should really piss off the 2000 Mules crowd:
We had a few local races of potential concern. Our incumbent Republican state senator, who basically inherited his mother's seat, got gerrymandered into a two-incumbent face-off against an adjoining Dem. The district numbers favor the D, but we had a lot of old coots in that line this morning (other than me), so who knows?
Meanwhile, in the biggest statewide race, our incumbent, the local Hochul, is trying to become the first Guv from Buffalo to be elected since Grover Cleveland did it. Her Trumpernutter opponent has been gaining statewide with his racist dog-whistling about OMGCRIME, and he's even come out here against the Bills new stadium deal. You'd think that would be the kiss of death with Bills fans, but we've been seeing his sign on many lawns, most also flashing their BillsMafia signs of support. He's from Long Island, so probably a Jets fan who'd love to see us move out of town and out of his team's division. Kathy should be ramming that point home to encourage votes and local turnout, but Democrats are too nice too often to fight back against these imbeciles.
----
My other big effort from the past week was a different kind of scary.
As I posted earlier, I've been with this particular franchise for years. Most stops have been in Amherst, a few in Rochester, but one a few years ago on a Long Island trip was to a location around the corner from my high school. Mr. Day and Mr. Dinklemeyer must've been shocked out their graves to hear I attended a workout. Voluntarily. At 8:15 in the morning.
I sent them the photo of their studio's very studious history, from my friend Scott's earlier book about it:
But this past week was all close to home for Hell Week. I think I did it my second, third and fourth years (2017-19) when you had to commit to doing five of them in the eight days between the 24th and 31st of October. I passed on it in the first COVID year because Hell Week seemed redundant, but returned last year for I think a still five-class commitment.
This year, it's down to four, but they each rivaled the content of five in eight days for intensity. Friday, at the end of the workday, was my third- and my ass is still sore from the amount of uninterrupted rowing in that one. I'd booked the fourth and final for this morning, but I also booked my latest COVID booster for yesterday afternoon and wasn't sure how I'd react to that. (Ultimate answer: fine, other than the sore arm at the injection point.)
So I decided to reschedule and get in to a fourth and final class for me at 10:30 yesterday morning. I'm still sore from the waist down from that hour. I found the fitting costume for the event:
(Okay, it's not that bad, but I did just get a chiro referral to someone who might be able to help with the sore feets.)
What I was most determined to do was avoid the final day on Halloween itself. They tend to be heavily booked, silly costume-y and, worst in my book, themed even beyond the general Hell Week theme. In the years I did do it on the 31st, the schtick was pulling cards out of scary looking buckets that would determine portions of your workout for that day. You could get 10 burpees, you could get 200. Have I mentioned I suck at gambling? No official word yet on whether they're doing this, but one of the unofficial intel sites has already posted copies of what might be the theme:
No thanks.
Because yesterday ended with my full benefits of completing all this work: the annual stinkin' t-shirt-
- and, just like I called it, eternal damnation!
I just hope the odds are equally in our favor a week from Tuesday.
Working backwards: we voted today.
Well, a friend and I did. Eleanor got up yesterday to our town's only early voting site at the Senior Center. Her crutch let her jump the queue. I brought a crutch of my own-
- but I stayed out of the queue until Ann came out to take the reins. While we waited, Pepper merrily worked it as it got pretty long for 9:00 on a Sunday morning. I told everybody she was electioneering for dog catcher, on the platform of LET EM ALL OUT!
After maybe 20 minutes, we were both done. I snagged an extra sticker for her, which should really piss off the 2000 Mules crowd:
We had a few local races of potential concern. Our incumbent Republican state senator, who basically inherited his mother's seat, got gerrymandered into a two-incumbent face-off against an adjoining Dem. The district numbers favor the D, but we had a lot of old coots in that line this morning (other than me), so who knows?
Meanwhile, in the biggest statewide race, our incumbent, the local Hochul, is trying to become the first Guv from Buffalo to be elected since Grover Cleveland did it. Her Trumpernutter opponent has been gaining statewide with his racist dog-whistling about OMGCRIME, and he's even come out here against the Bills new stadium deal. You'd think that would be the kiss of death with Bills fans, but we've been seeing his sign on many lawns, most also flashing their BillsMafia signs of support. He's from Long Island, so probably a Jets fan who'd love to see us move out of town and out of his team's division. Kathy should be ramming that point home to encourage votes and local turnout, but Democrats are too nice too often to fight back against these imbeciles.
----
My other big effort from the past week was a different kind of scary.
As I posted earlier, I've been with this particular franchise for years. Most stops have been in Amherst, a few in Rochester, but one a few years ago on a Long Island trip was to a location around the corner from my high school. Mr. Day and Mr. Dinklemeyer must've been shocked out their graves to hear I attended a workout. Voluntarily. At 8:15 in the morning.
I sent them the photo of their studio's very studious history, from my friend Scott's earlier book about it:
But this past week was all close to home for Hell Week. I think I did it my second, third and fourth years (2017-19) when you had to commit to doing five of them in the eight days between the 24th and 31st of October. I passed on it in the first COVID year because Hell Week seemed redundant, but returned last year for I think a still five-class commitment.
This year, it's down to four, but they each rivaled the content of five in eight days for intensity. Friday, at the end of the workday, was my third- and my ass is still sore from the amount of uninterrupted rowing in that one. I'd booked the fourth and final for this morning, but I also booked my latest COVID booster for yesterday afternoon and wasn't sure how I'd react to that. (Ultimate answer: fine, other than the sore arm at the injection point.)
So I decided to reschedule and get in to a fourth and final class for me at 10:30 yesterday morning. I'm still sore from the waist down from that hour. I found the fitting costume for the event:
(Okay, it's not that bad, but I did just get a chiro referral to someone who might be able to help with the sore feets.)
What I was most determined to do was avoid the final day on Halloween itself. They tend to be heavily booked, silly costume-y and, worst in my book, themed even beyond the general Hell Week theme. In the years I did do it on the 31st, the schtick was pulling cards out of scary looking buckets that would determine portions of your workout for that day. You could get 10 burpees, you could get 200. Have I mentioned I suck at gambling? No official word yet on whether they're doing this, but one of the unofficial intel sites has already posted copies of what might be the theme:
No thanks.
Because yesterday ended with my full benefits of completing all this work: the annual stinkin' t-shirt-
- and, just like I called it, eternal damnation!
I just hope the odds are equally in our favor a week from Tuesday.