Exercise

I could actually feel the reluctance of each individual fiber in my quadriceps, objecting to the depth and the load of the squats, but I'd demanded 15 reps from my client and I was damned well going to put up rather than shut up. As the muscles fired, groaned, and fired again, I had to lose myself in the cadence of the repetitions so as not to focus solely on the difficulty. At the end of the sequence I set down the weights, relief and satisfaction flooding over me. I can't explain to people why I love strength training, but somewhere in this experience is the answer.

Seven: Eleven

I lost my ten-year-old son this past week.

No really, I did. I don't have one anymore. I do, however, have an eleven-year-old son; and for a shining moment (which felt like eternity), I also had 6 of his closest friends here for a sleep-over. (Go ahead, do the math and then nod as comprehension dawns over the title...)

They arrived yesterday after school, did a whole bunch of stuff which looked and sounded a lot like chaos, disturbed the peace of my neighbors, ate like a plague of locusts, slept briefly, and left, one by one this morning.

Before the clamoring commences, let me just squelch the rebellion by telling you there aren't any photos. Why? Because I took no photos. (I also took no prisoners though... so on balance, I'm calling it a win.) Trust me when I tell you that sugar is the enemy.

And now? Sleep beckons, and I'm far too exhausted to resist.

Halloween

I know, I know... it's the day after, and everyone and their dog is posting photos of their darling offspring dressed in costume. But who am I, really, to break with such a tradition? Accordingly, here ya go.


A Fire-Fighter getting flames on his cheeks:




An Alien, but NOT a Martian:




Avril Lavigne:




Friends of Superman:




And my brush with celebrity:




It was Spooktacular!!