My hometown is burning

I read an article about the Rio Grande burning.

Wow. I grew up a stones throw away from that river.

Work Life

I am sitting at my laptop, drinking my protein smoothie (made with about 65 grams of protein. For those of you that don't instinctively know the protein content in every typical food that they might eat, this is equivalent to roughly 2 large chicken breasts, or 11 eggs.) in my shorts and blue t-shirt. I am slouched in my chair.

I found out earlier this morning that I will be meeting with a muckety-muck from one of our bigger, prestigious clients. I had just about given up on dressing well at work because a) it is 94 degrees out during the day and b) I no longer have much client contact. But perhaps most telling, is c) I had given up trying to impress people at work. I mentioned this to M. and he thought this was a "bad sign." I agreed. I have mentally checked out (a little) from work. There are no challenges here that are not mundane, and nothing really to "achieve" since we haven't had any really big client projects come in recently. Sounds lame, but I thrive on getting things done. But the lack of challenges also bodes poorly for the company's financial performance.

But and entirely different, but equally valid reason I may be checked out is because I am frightened by our work sink. We get birthday cakes for people every month to celebrate. Some of the latest cake got dumped in the sink early yesterday. And the frosting is still there. Despite both soap and hot water, the frosting has refused to get dislodged from the drain catch. Which has made multiple people think twice about eating the left over cake.

mmmm. Industrial strength-lard.

Superman; the bionic version

Mike was at the gym today. He is scheduled for surgery for them to go in and straighten his finger, adding cables and what not. It seems that they have to do more extensive work. So it looks like superman needs a bionic push. Makes me fee a little less wimpy for thinking I would have chucked working out all together until the cast was on the finger.

Real men working out.

Mike, (the scum defender below), is one of my gym heros.

Besides looking like the comic book version of Clark Kent. he has the strength and pain fighting abilities of his super powered alter ego as well. Routinely he does so much weight at the gym that the steel bars warp under the tonnage at the ends. His form is impeccable (and this is saying a lot from a guy like me who scrutinizes almost everyone's form there).

He also plays volleyball, but unlike me I am sure he is a better player than I am.

Over the weekend, I ran into him going up the elevator. I asked him how his volleyball team is doing. He said they won their three games but that he was out for the season.

Why? I asked.

He held up his right hand: the pinky finger was visably broken and bent out of alignment. No splint, no tape, no cast. I think my jaw dropped open.

I asked him why he was at the gym. He said that he could grip with the rest of his hand.
Does it hurt? I asked.

Well, it throbs and it hurts when I jam it like when I put my hand in my pocket.

But he did his workout, working arms and chest. He did decide, however, to tone it down, by not working dumbbells. Thank goodness.

His pain threshold makes mine look ridiculously low. But then again, his need to be at the gym with an unsplinted finger at the gym, makes me look a little more balanced.

Green lunch

Lunch:
Spinach (with cut up turkey)
Granny Smith Apple
Green Grapes

Ah, tasty chrolophyll!

From a Balance Beam

Marie, from my Trash Can Sinatras Mailing list, sent me a disc from Bright Eyes. It has really blown me away: the lyrics, the melodies, and the voice.

But mostly the lyrics.

This is the latest song that I have on replay: From a Balance Beam

And so I fell like that girl from a balance beam
A gymnasium of eyes
all were holding on to me
I lifted one foot to cross the other
and I felt myself slipping
It was a small mistake
Sometime's that's all it takes...

And I emerged to find the parallels were fewer
I was cleansed
I looked in the mirror and
someone new was there
but I was as helpless as a chess piece
when I was lifted up by someone's hand
And delivered from the corner my enemies
had got me in
But in all of my salvation I still felt imprisoned'
Inside that holding cell
That is myself
So I wait for the day when I hear the key
as it turns in the lock and the guard will say to me:
"Oh my patient prisoner you have waited for this day
and finally.... You are free! You are free! You are free!"

Lyrics pasted from Let's Sing It. Buy buy buy the discs of the artists you like.