Fridays with the Treadmill

Last night was Gym night, and honestly it is getting better. It is not getting easier, because each night I push a little harder. I have raised my target heart rate, significantly, and maintain it longer. Which means working until my lungs burn, and breathing is difficult.

Don't, ever, under any circumstances, let the machine, in this case a treadmill, dictate your workout. Last night, thinking it was time to take the next step, I chose "Zone Training" and the machine asked me for my age, I typed in fifty five, (not my real age (ok it is my real age)), and there was an odd noise, and a slight shake, the treadmill had laughed, softly, maliciously, and the digital display offered a suggestion for a target heart rate, which was about 115. After pressing the "OK" button we started, the treadmill and I were off.

With the program choosing the pace I was free to choose a song. In this case "Bright Lights, Big City" by Them, a band Van Morrison was with during the Sixties. I bought the album "Still on Top – The Greatest Hits" from Amazon, and this song was on there, along with one of my favorite versions of "Baby Please Don't Go."  It is a great song. In fact, I have decided to collect different versions. There are probably dozens of artists who have recorded "Baby, Please Don't Go," and I am on a quest to find all the copies that appeal to me,. Let me know if you have a version that you enjoy.

Anyway, the machine started slowly, letting me warm up. Then it increased the speed and steepened the incline, and I when I took my hand off the heartrate sensor to wipe the sweat from my forehead. it flashed,angrily and obnoxiously enough to cause a seizure, "REPLACE HAND ON HEARTRATE SENSOR!" I did, and the machine upped the speed, and the incline. Soon, the incline was as steep as possible.  It was like running up the side of a building. Van Morrison was spelling "G L O R I A, Gloria" in my ears, and it was miserable, not the song, the workout.  The song was great.

When I hit the target heartrate, gasping, sweating, lungs, legs, and oxygen deprived brain burning, the machine said "New Target Heartrate 136"  I think, my vision was a little blurry, it might have been the sweat pouring down my face.  The machine was giggling, shaking malevolently, or maybe I was having tremors it is hard to say. I pressed the button that said "Cool Down" wiped the sweat from my face.  After my heartrate dropped into the seventies we did it again, the treadmill and I, repeating it two more times. The first attendant told me to do that, she called it interval training.  And my wife told me she was serious about exercise, and very knowledgeable about training.

After a stop to clean the treadmill, hey we are not animals after all, and a refreshing drink of water, I was off the resistance machines. Last night I kept track of what I did, using Wunderlist. When it becomes more impressive I will post a screen shot on here, but now it looks kind of wimpy, and painfully small. But I did add another machine with "leg extensions," Though I know I need to work harder, add more weight, and push a little more, I feel good about that.

In fact, I feel good about myself, there is a euphoric lift from exercise, and I am glad I started. This was smart. If you are thinking about trying it, you should, trust me, I am no athlete, but am so glad I started. You will be also.8

Caveat Emptor, Buyer Beware, yes, that is very good.  Truth in advertising is so important, it is impossible to make an informed decision lacking important details.  Consumers have the right to all of the information available to the seller.  It seems self evident.

Imagine my shock visiting a Lasik center recently.  Turns out "Laser Eye" surgery does not actually mean installing "Laser Eyes" at all.  It seems people actually pay to have lasers shot into their eyes, just so they don't have to wear to glasses.  Go figure.  That would have been a handy thing to know, saving me the cost of an office visit.  Plus, they don't even validate.

Cologne, perfume, those are the things that need a little more honesty.  "Some people may find this odor offensive, particularly if you slop it on, and then go the gym, sweat may activate repulsion waves.  Please use sparingly.  Discontinue use and shower if friends and family avoid being in the same room with you."  Humanity would be well served.

Automobiles could use a little reality, as well.  "If you buy this car because you see someone driving it ridiculously, recklessly fast, and think it will fill some void in your life, or help you get dates, you are probably delusional, and should buy a compact car, using the savings to expand your horizons, true happiness comes from within.  Fulfillment is rarely delivered on 4 wheels.  When you are more comfortable with yourself you will be more comfortable with other people.  And, other people with you."

Fast food should come with the advisory text "artist rendition, food will not look like this when served, wrapped tightly in wax paper, by an angry, resentful, employee, who dislikes you.  Hamburger not made with real ham, or burger, cheese burger not made with real cheese, french fries not from France."

"Caution:  This medicine could result in the formation
of a robot in your stomach.  Please tell your doctor if you
have a robot in your stomach, or have been to any
areas with certain fungal infections, including
stomach robots."

Sometimes though, honesty in advertising goes a little too far.  Prescription medicine carries warnings that are too graphic.  "This medicine designed to reduce your blood pressure has the potential to make you so miserable, and the suffering so intense, you will long for the days when hypertension seemed like a problem.  Tell your doctor if you are having symptoms of any illness."  That would probably be enough.  My doctor can write a prescription without all of the awful, potential problems, saves a ton of time.

Medical advertising has changed, there was a time that advertisements for products that involved issues unique to the fairer sex seemed so obnoxious.  That was before the discovery of medicine to help with issues unique to middle aged men, they could probably give that stuff away if it weren't for the television commercial expense.

We need more honesty, but we need less truth, if that makes any sense.

Lessons from the gym, a list.

Here are some observations made from repeated trips to the gym.

1.  People with faulty memory diodes should use a notebook to keep track of weights and repetitions.  Reality sends constant reminders; I am a "big picture" person, who has little time or patience for petty little details (like the names of my co-workers, they are all Bob, to me).  When sitting down on the resistance training machine I am at a complete loss for where I should put the little pin, locking the weights into place.

There is a conversation raging in my head "it was at 80 yesterday, we should stay there for a while and just increase the reps."  The more reasonable side will say.  

"No, 80 is for wimps, we were at 100, at least, and we should go for 120 today.  You wouldn't like that though, you are too lazy to even say the whole word 'repetitions.'"  The less reasonable side will reply. 

Pretty soon it gets heated and I have to step in and say, "why don't we use 90 pounds, and do as many repetitions as possible."  But, they are no longer talking to each other, or me, so that is what we do.  A record of previous workouts would save a lot of aggravation, and we could go back to arguing about important things, like which podcast should be  next.

2.  Even though my elbow feels like it is on fire, it isn't.  I looked, and it seems fine.  Which indicates something is wrong inside.  Not being a doctor limits the scope of the diagnosis, but it is probably something in the joint, or the muscle, or the attaching ligaments, or tendons.  I think.

This injury has reared its ugly head before.  One time it got so bad I even took it to the doctor.  He looked it over and said it was not an uncommon problem among aging men.  And, they could repair it, by cutting open the elbow, and grinding down the canal on the bone, where the nerve, or something ran.  I don't really remember what it was, because at surgery I started getting a little shaky, warm, and lightheaded.  When he started to talk about using a grinder on my bone the room started spinning.  I don't remember too much after that.  But, my elbow felt a lot better, as I sprinted from the office, yelling my thanks at the doctors, nurses, reception personnel, and patients.

3.  Exercising has a lot of benefits.  Yes, there is the long term health improvement, which is why I started.  But, there is an immediate boost, I feel better.  Moreover, I feel better about myself.  Feeling better about myself has made me look for other ways to improve, and there is a vegetable in my lunch everyday, and a glass or two of water in place of a carbonated, sugary soft drink.    

Exercising is not the chore I feared it would be, today is my day off from the gym, so I have time to work out the best way to track my efforts, maybe Wunderlist, or Allthings, it has to be something that will allow the use of photos, or pictures of some kind.  Adding some art makes it more fun, and hey entertainment is cool.  If you have any suggestions for an iOS app that will work let me know, please.  

Remember to exercise, you won't regret it.

Workouts, Motivation, and Wilson Pickett.

Today, for the 2nd week in a row, I am going to the gym on consecutive days.  Weather has caused me this painful collision, closing school on Monday, and the gym is hidden safely away on the second floor.

Which is convenient since there are about 100 stairs between floors, it has to be about 75 feet high.  It is a good way to start an evening of painful exertion, hauling my tired, overweight, middle aged, working class existence up that mountain.

It is even worse on the way down.  Rubbery legs from the elliptical trainer, dizzy from the rarified air at that height, arms shaking, and shoulders sore from the resistance machine and steps disappearing into the mist and fog below, are a recipe for disaster.

You know, they should open a little bakery on the landing between floors.  Stop, have a pastry, some coffee, chat with the other climbers.  "Hey, I saw a Yeti on the South Face.  Big, angry looking thing, maybe it was a math teacher, I am not sure.  Either way it was terrifying.  Why yes, a cheese danish would be splendid."

It would require a few extra minutes on the treadmill, but friendship and society are important, too.  Plus, the school would make quite a bit of money, (education is important, too) and cheese danish are delicious.

Anyway, I am off to the gym tonight, with a new plan.  Motivational pod cast  "The Daily Boost:  Daily Motivation | Life Skills | Job Motivation | Goal Setting | Health and Wellness."  That is a lot, yes, but I am not going to try to do all of them tonight.

I will work on (listen to) "How to stay on course with your goals."  I have a little trouble with that.  And "How to succeed without being perfect."  I am neither perfect, nor successful, maybe tomorrow.  These should give me some insight into what I have been doing wrong, or right, or both.

One thing that always motivates me, though, is my wife is often still there.  And seeing her smiling face makes me want to live longer.  And exercise is one way to get there.

To start off with the right attitude I plan to listen to Wilson Pickett tell us about the "Land of 1,000 Dances."

Everybody should want to "Pony like Bony Maronie."  After that I may not need any more motivation, but it is available, just in case.  Thank you, Mr. Pickett.

If you are working out tonight, have fun, if you have some great music, or pod cast to keep you going let me know, and if you see a Yeti, get a picture, and an autograph, it would be worth some serious coin.

 

Primary Preseason, Where Candidates are Made.

Our internal Presidential Primary is starting to heat up, a little.  Things are mostly civil, but tension is rising, and tempers are, perhaps, a little short.  But, there are moments, terrible, frightening moments where the worst of man, the politician in our otherwise humane and decent employees rises takes control.

Yesterday in the kitchen was one of those moments.  Roberta and Bob, from payroll, were both getting a midmorning pick me up.  Bob was getting a latte, extra foam with shaved chocolate, and caramel.  Roberta was grabbing a banana, strawberry smoothie with crushed pineapple, cream, and whipped topping.

"Hey, it sure is a nice morning, don't you think.  It would be a great day to cut the taxes on the nations largest international conglomerates, to help them generate jobs, wouldn't it?"  Bob asked, looking out the window, admiring the bright sun glinting off the frost covered roofs.  An aroma of espresso, and hot chocolate made him smile.

"It is a beautiful day, Bob," Roberta agreed, looking into the cut crystal goblet holding her frosty drink, she could almost taste the smell of the fresh banana and strawberry, it was intoxicating.  "But, we should probably use the bright light to offer a ray of hope to the poor immigrants who are waiting in limbo, wondering what will become of them."

"It is typical, left wing, bleeding heart crap.  They came to this country illegally, which makes them criminals.  We should deport them, and give those jobs to Americans."

"Yes, Americans are lining up to take jobs, mowing lawns, working in picking onions, and peaches.  Our country is stronger when we welcome those trying to build a new life."

An impromptu debate, this was great.  People were starting to gather around, a circle of spectators waiting for a vigorous exchange of ideas.

For the next several minutes the debate raged, both candidates expressing cognizant theories on the best way to ensure American survival for four more years.  Of course the longer the debate went on, with neither side willing to budge from their position, the more venomous it became.  Soon it was reduced to accusations, and name calling.

Bob scoffed, then added., "whiny little democrat, you will ruin this country.  Wimp"  He turned, and began to shadow box in the mirror like polish of the stainless steel refrigerator.

When he started the Ali Shuffle, and asked his reflection "who's the man?"  Roberta had had enough, and rammed him with her motorized wheel chair.  Bob's knees buckled, and he started to collapse, whimpering,
he was in obvious pain.  Roberta hammered him in the temple with her insulin pump, as he crumpled to the floor.

You could barely hear him say "I withdraw my candidacy for President of the United States."  As Roberta used her oxygen hose to strangle him to unconsciousness.

We really thought Bob was going to have a chance, too, until the concussion.  Well, there are more candidates, more debates, the cycle is really only beginning.  Stay tuned, and don't forget to vote.

Life Explained the Newsletter

Oscars In DC, who will bring home the trophy.

This week the president provided his version of the State of the Union.  I didn't watch.  It was followed by the Republican response.  I didn't watch that either.  State of the Union addresses don't change all that much, nor do responses.  Unemployment is down, gas prices are low, the economy is improving, it is hard to find fault with these numbers.  Of course it is equally hard to find someone to thank.

For the last six years the houses of congress have been locked in a ideological battle over the best way to govern.  If anybody reached "across the aisle" it was with the intent to bludgeon, garrotte, or stab someone.  Bills were batted down with glee.  Partisanship ruled the halls of government.

"They don't want to cooperate," was the constant lament.  It echoed through the country, sweeping across the plains, cresting the mountains, and flowing to the oceans.

Consensus was considered sinful, and cooperation viewed as weakness.  Voting outside party lines was equal to fraternizing with the enemy.

There were government shutdowns.  National monuments built to celebrate this nation, its accomplishments, testimony to the greatness of our shared heritage and national history, paid for by taxpayers, staffed with common people who believe in the countries greatness were closed because people we trust to run things were acting like children.  It is probably safe to assume congressional benefits were not at risk.  

Despite the bickering, despite the inaction, despite the endless, whining sound emanating from the hallowed halls, the economy somehow righted itself.  Of course, everybody who can grab a microphone, and plop down in front of a camera will trumpet their part in the recovery.  But, deep inside we are all starting to understand, the nations leaders aren't really there to lead.  Sure, they will try to do their best to make sure nothing too bad happens, at least not to the people who put them in such a comfy job, mostly their largest campaign contributors.

In the end the control they have over events is limited, and mostly exhibition.  They can really put on a good show, and it makes for riveting, excellent drama.  Congress people should have their own version of the Academy Awards, voting on who gave the "best performance in support a bill to increase benefits to corporate farms for whom at least 75% of their profits are derived from imported produce."  Imagine the possibilities, it almost brings a tear to your eye.
 

Day Five at the Gym, or How to Battle an Angry, Overly Caffeinated Coworker.

Yesterday, I went to the gym.  This is not a big deal, but it was the first visit on consecutive days.  This is not a big deal for most people, but it was huge for me.  Working out is work, and it requires commitment, and a willingness to go two days in a row seems a good omen.

My gym, and in between
the machines you can see
my exercise cycle

There were several people, but it was not crowded.  "My treadmill" was in use, so I took "My exercise cycle," plugged in my podcast about the the Battle of Little Bighorn, (the Protestant Reformation is not a popular podcast subject, despite the influence it had on organized religion, and history) and I was off.  Pedaling, listening, and breathing.  Breathing is an involuntary reflex, it just happens, it doesn't require any thought, or input.  Thinking about it, though, is such a good idea.

Several years ago I attended Tae Kwon Do classes.  When I joined it was with superhero dreams.  Righting wrongs, defending the weak, being the voice of those who could not be heard, leaving a stream of broken, bleeding bullies, and criminals in my wake.  It didn't quite work out that way, though.  It was a lot of fun, some good exercise, and it taught me that breathing, in stressful situations, should be an interactive exercise.

When confronted by an angry co-worker, for example, accusations flying, "you drank the last of the coffee, and didn't make more, you slimy, worthless dog."  Here, I am compelled to point out, I like dogs, there is even a dog working in my department, say hello, Mr. Dog.  It is only the fictitious coworker, enraged by the lack of coffee, who is using the word dog as an insult.  This coworker, who is not based on any of my coworkers by the way, may have had enough coffee already.  As evidenced by the anger at having to brew a pot, which is not really all that difficult...  Wait.  Sorry.  Where were we?

Oh yes, breathing.  Anyway, tension, or fear, create a reaction, and breathing becomes rapid, and shallow.  It is probably useful, primal, helping to generate adrenaline or something, that at some point in our evolution helped us survive.  But, if a person who is tense, or frightened, concentrates on breathing, focusing on deep breaths, it will add oxygen to the blood stream, helping them relax, and maintain control.  Plus, it allows a distraction from the physical demands of "interval training."

Instead of thinking that I had reached my target heart rate, and could wind down, concentrating on breathing, focusing on each breath, allowed me to push a little farther, last a few minutes longer.  Making the pain the next day even more excruciating, just kidding, it is almost tolerable.  But, I finished the cardio portion of my workout, made a round through the resistance machines, and went home a little sore, a lot happy, and worried about the motives of mankind.

It seems a lot of the problems Custer faced in that battle may have been caused by political differences.  Turns out President Grant didn't care much General Custer, Custer had testified against Grant's Bureau of Indian Affairs, something to do with corruption.  Grant punished him by relieving him of command, a phrase that seems a little silly, it is probably not a relief at all, which is what makes it a punishment.  Of course, another reason for Grant's disdain may have been Custer's aversion to following orders.  And, he may not have been following orders when he attacked.  But, he has probably been punished enough for that indiscretion.

I am taking today off, no gym for me.  Tomorrow night I will be relaxing in style.  Feet up, working on my "New Improved Company Newsletter."  And looking for a podcast for tomorrow night, if you have any suggestions, please let me know.

The Aerobics of Terror, Why I Love the Gym.

Normally, on Tuesday I don't go the gym.  Since I skipped Monday I decided to go workout.

In all fairness, Monday was not all lounging, television and potato chips.  We (my son and I) went and hiked through the wilds of Central Ohio. Here are pictures to prove it, looks pretty wild, yes? It was treacherous, and kind of cold, and the stairs (yes, we build stairs in the untamed forests in Central Ohio, we are not animals, you know?) were steep, and parts of the path were icy and slick.  But, similar to Lewis and Clark  we persevered, and came out, more or less, unscathed, on the other side.

Plus, there is the aerobics of terror, from grocery shopping.  My wife asked us to stop at the store, and pick up a few things.  No problem.  Normally she does not trust me with a very long list, so a basket is all that is needed.  With a basket a shopper remains mobile, elusive, a moving target, bobbing and weaving, dancing around the malevolent, grabbing some coffee, and skipping out of the line of fire.

Monday, though, there were three 12 packs of soft drinks (I am not going to enter into that rancorous, venomous soda vs. pop vs. cola debate, nor I am going to endorse a brand unless they offer me some incentive (take that Coke, (oh, dammit!))) so I was weighed down by a cart.  I was at the mercy of other, more experienced shoppers.

Cruising down the aisle for tortillas, and moving slow, cautious, I stopped and picked up our brand, on sale great! and moved on.  A woman who was maneuvering her shopping cart behind me decided to take me on the left.  She swung out, and began to pass me, so I stopped, sensing a multi cart pile up, and the ensuing chaos, plus, it might crush my Frito Scoops (also on sale, hooray!).  The minute I stopped, she stopped, just to my left, glaring hatefully at me, her hand came up and she pointed her finger at me, the nail long, filed sharp, and painted blood red, her hand was shaking with homicidal rage.  Angrily, bitterly, indignantly, she said "I want to get a bag of salted pretzel twists behind you."

Anyway, I went to the gym last night.  I tried something new.  Instead of listening to a podcast I turned on some music.  A bad idea.

I am too easily influenced, too prone to suggestion.  I started with a little Van Morrison, slow, melodic, and pleasing, the treadmill and I were one.  Southern Cross, came next and we hit our stride, a nice pace, just cruising.  But, next was the Blues rocker James Cotton singing "Cotton Mouth Man."  We were rocking, and rolling, by the time he sang "People shouted mercy, these blues can not be healed," I was going about 45 miles an hour, people were staring at me, probably because of my joints screaming in protest.

But, I will go again tonight, podcast loaded up, tonight it will be about the "Protestant Reformation," a fascinating part of history.

Bad news, my boss has given me permission to write a company newsletter, and once it is finished I will post it here, with her permission of course.  So, keep your eyes open for that, if you dare.  See, Mike, I told you I was going to start my own newsletter.

Voting the ultimate charity.

We, here at Life Explained (#lifeexplained) have decided to move forward with a new fund raising strategy.  It is almost fool proof, it is almost perfect.  Plus, it is so simple that almost anybody can do it.  That's right, we are going to run for president.

Well, not all of us are going to run for president, not that all of us shouldn't run for president, don't get us wrong, all of us would make a wonderful president, you should be so lucky to have us all for president, being president would be easy for us after the things we have been through, why the stories we could tell you...  Anyway, we are going to pick one of us, and he, or she, is going to run for president.

Thorough research has indicated that campaigning for president maybe the most lucrative profession in the country.  And you don't even have to win, people will hire you to give speeches, and advocate on their behalf, and there are book rights, and made for television movies, and... it is just a good idea.

First, there are the fundraiser dinners.  People pay thousands of dollars to have a meal with us.  And we don't even have to cook, serve or clean up.  Where else are you going to find a sweetheart deal like that?  We have trouble getting somebody's mom to fix up a plate of cookies and drop them off once in a while.  And, then we have to wash the plate, and take it back.  And, if we ask for a few dollars for gas, maybe a cup of coffee for the trip back to work they ask like we are asking if we can move back home.  Which would not be so bad, we could help out with the yard work, and maybe pitch in for the groceries.  They could do a lot worse than us for a room mate, we can tell you that, we bring a lot to the table, we have a job, and our own microwave, and...  Anyway, there is a lot of money to be made in dinners like that.

Second, there is that cool bus, traveling across the country, shaking hands, meeting people.  Sitting down, breaking bread with the common people, the salt of the Earth, the good folk of this fine country.  Discussing the issues, exploring their priorities, learning what they feel is wrong and needs to be fixed in the nations capitol, and then ignoring it completely.  But, a lot of those little diners have excellent pie or cobbler, fresh, dairy churned ice cream, and big steaming mugs of hot, delicious coffee.  And, we are pretty sure someone else picks up the tab.  Man, the people of this country have it made, really, what are they whining about, we are the ones stuck in that stupid tour bus, with all of those boring charts, and displays, and the constant, endless whining sound of unemployment, budget, foreign policy, reach across the aisle, you know what, let the people put down their coffee mug, and spoon full of ice cream and cobbler, and deal with that stuff, that is what we think should...  Well, we are off to Dubuque, we hear The Golden Hen has a fantastic omelet.

Hey, is that a tax exempt political donation,
or are you just glad to see us. 

Third, there will be people lining up to hand us suitcases full of money.  How many times in your life have you been in a position to accept bags of cash from fantastically wealthy people?  We don't really care, that was not really a question it was more of a declarative, yes we realize it was phrased as an interrogative, but trust us, we can tell by looking at you nobody ever handed you a sack of cash.  It was an example of using rhetoric to emphasize the validity of an argument.   We used a phrase that would invoke a strong visual reaction to make a point.  What was the point?  Well... what was the point?  Oh, yeah.  There is a lot of money being handed to candidates today, and according to the candidates, and donors, it is not to influence policy, or buy elections, it is just to... it is only for... we don't know why they go around handing out serious piles of coin like that, and we don't care, we would just like to get out hands on some

Remember, it is your government, and it only works if you all vote, and donate, so get out and vote, and donate.  We take cash, checks and all major credit cards, jewelry, electronics, and motor vehicles. Can our opponents say that?

Workout # 3, Another Step in a Long Walk

Yesterday was day three at the gym.  It was my first feeble attempt at circuit training.  Unfortunately, when I got there my treadmill was taken, it isn't technically mine, it is just the one I used on my first two visits.  And, here it was, working someone else's lungs to the point of exploding.  Without even glancing at me as I walked through the door.  It was with a heavy heart that I moved to an exercise bike.

I turned on "Genghis Khan" from the "In Our Time Archive: History."  A podcast from BBC Radio 4.  Sitting down I started peddling and listening to the articulate, measured British voices talk about the bloodthirsty ruler.

An exercise bike is a unique machine, it has buttons that control levels of difficulty, and buttons that have cryptic labels, "Calorie Burn," and "Hills."  I tried all of them.  Some of them had immediate and obvious effects, and some of them seemed to do nothing.  There was a fan button, and it turned on a fan.  I used that.

 I did "interval training."  Raising my heart rate, and then slowing down, and then starting over again.  Until my legs hurt, and my breath was ragged, but, I kept working.  It was rewarding.

Moving from "Interval Training," to "Circuit Training," was made difficult by the addition of a meddlesome woman, moving from machine to machine.  Similar to a bee, flitting from flower to flower, never stopping, never landing, just staying in each place long enough to be in the way.

Here is the odd part, it was the same woman who was using "my treadmill."  Well, not technically my treadmill, but she was the one who started my session so poorly.  Now she was trying to ruin the end, too.

Being a keen observer of human nature and patterns it was not difficult to notice that she would use a machine for the briefest time, buzz over to the non toxic orange based cleaner, and flit back to the machine.  She would spend minutes disinfecting the machine, seat, handles, arm rests, any part th9at she may have had contact with.  She worked much harder cleaning than exercising.  Exercise is exercise, though, and she was exercising, and the machines sparkled.

Waiting, and watching, an ambush predator, the Eastern Green Mamba of the small, private gym.  As soon as she made her move toward the spray bottle, and small damp towel, I leaped on a machine and started pulling the handles back, like a mania.  After reading the instructions, and adjusting the weight,  of course.   I am not sure what the machine was called, but it worked my shoulders, and back and felt good.

Meanwhile, the treadmill interloper hovered relentlessly, bottle in one hand, towel in the other.  Cleaning the machines on either side, you could hear the high pitched buzzing, and sense the anger.  Through my earbuds came the story of Temujin, whose Father was poisoned by the Tatars, after which he was abandoned on the steppes, a harsh, forbidding place.  It was a rough way to start life.

His family was attacked and his wife was kidnapped.  He survived, and formed a kinship with other nomads of the Steppe, and eventually avenged the attack on his family, liberated his wife, and stomped the livin' bejesus out of the people who made the mistake of attacking him.  He grew up to have the largest contiguous empire in history.

And, I thought, what would the Mighty Khan do if he were being kept from working out by a germaphobe with a bottle of cleaner, a small towel smelling of slightly rotted citrus?   Would the Flail of God wait patiently to use the Lat Pull Down machine?  Would he have used an exercise bike if someone else was using his treadmill?   Would the conqueror of most of China and the Middle East wait patiently, sipping water, and pretending to catch his breath when he wanted to work his deltoids?

Probably not, from what I understand he was not very patient, or understanding.  Mostly, he seems to have been a man of action.  But, I waited, and I worked my shoulders, I don't know which parts or muscles, or any of the technical stuff, but it felt good.  I will go back, Monday.  Genghis Khan and I are not the type to give up.

A New Policy Yesterday, but An Old Day Now.

It could have been a hundred years ago, but it could have been yesterday, too.  Three guys, well two guys and a dog, unable to find a job, started their own company, Life Explained.  It was a top secret, covert, research and development facility (seeking to unravel the riddles of the universe, and make some money) with no clients.  

The United States government found out about this top secret organization somehow, it might have been the article in a local paper about the grand opening, and jumped at the chance to enter a partnership.  It is why top secret laboratories and governments are formed, to provide for each other.  Kind of like an oppressively expensive, clandestine social circle.  

Soon, the company grew, and three employees became one hundred and thirty two.  But, it was difficult to get anything done, work schedules were lax, progress came in short bursts.  Projects that were finished in one department, moved to the next, and sat there waiting for somebody to arrive.  Experiments languished in empty labs.  It was a mess, and it was getting worse.

It was obvious to the three owners, two guys, and a dog, that something needed done.  If the small company was going to become a big company rules were necessary.

A consultant was hired, a man with an impeccable resume, a man who understood the needs being on time.  He was brisk, efficient, and to the point.  One phone call and they knew they had found the right guy.  “If you implement my system you will have no more problems,” he guaranteed.

Monday the twelfth the email went out.  There was going to be a new attendance and tardiness policy.  The meeting would be on Thursday, the seventeenth, at Eight AM, in conference room B, the large room with theater style seating.  Be on time.

Thursday dawned, bright, early, and with a vengeance, the air smelled like a jail cell, and the sun looked fluorescent.  And the man was set up by 7:30.

At 8:00 he started, promptly.  At 8:15 Bob, from accounting came in.  “Sorry, stuck in traffic.”  The man was perturbed, but went on with the presentation.  It involved points, on a sliding scale of severity.  If a person was less than 5 minutes late it was ¼ of a point.

At 8:25 Bob, from R and D showed up, and said, “hey, I am really sorry, my alarm didn’t go off.”  The man was getting upset, noticeably, but continued.  At 8:30 Bob, from Marketing came in, his car wouldn’t start.  8:45 and a tardiness, accident on the freeway, 8:52 “sorry I’m late, my basement was flooded.”  By now the man was shaking, and his voice was cracking.  For the next several minutes a litany of excuses, and associates paraded in the door.  A fire in the garage, a snake in the toilet, spiders, aliens, and snoring in-laws, contorted the man’s face with rage. 

Finally, when Bob, from Human Resources stood up, saying “I am going to Dunkin’ Donuts for a croissant and a coffee, anybody want anything?” the man had had enough.

He threw down his notes, kicked over the table, and swore his way out of the room.

The three owners were shocked.  Still, something needed to be done.  Since they had heard part of the presentation, and were felt themselves to be fairly intelligent people, and dog, they decided to make it their own, the Life Explained Omnibus Tardiness and Attendance Policy.

Having heard the parts about accruing points, on a sliding scale, they extrapolated.  Surely, they felt, anybody, or group, who could build such a fantastically successful and innovative company could come up with something much better than the original.

Here is the scale they conceived, and executed, but something was missing. 

Occurrence	Points
Less than 5 Minutes Late	.25
Less than 30 minutes Late	.5
Less than 60 Minutes Late	.75
More than 60 Minutes Late	1
Missing Day	2

What would the results provide?  They locked themselves in an office, until they came up with the ideal solution.   

An announcement went out, with the details above, and the implications that whoever had the most points at the end of the year would win this nice clock radio.   

People were scurrying out the door, a tsunami of humanity, as they rushed by, they yelled “I need to take a day off tomorrow, and I will be late the next day."

Soon, they gave up on the idea, and went back to the old way, just relying on the common decency of their employees to do the right thing.  What could possibly go wrong there?

A New Me, Round 2 (or Tim Vs. The Machine)

Last night I went back, back to the gym, back to face my slothful, sedentary existence.  Monday, I had a dental appointment (just a routine cleaning, checkup, and lecture, (no cavities, if you were worried, I was)) so it was about 3:00 PM when I got to the gym.  Yesterday it was about 4:30, so there were a lot more people.  Young, fit, athletic people.

These people were unafraid of technology, mechanical equipment, or looking silly in the gym.  They have clothes to accent their fitness, to emphasize their athleticism, to boast of their youthful, healthy lifestyles.  These are people who jump onto a fitness machine, and bend it to their will.  It is a tool, and they use it.  Their relationship with fitness equipment is slightly different than mine.

They leap on a treadmill, stationary bike or resistance trainer, unafraid, and take off, a jet powered thrill ride to good health.  I approach slowly, trying to stay downwind, cautious, until I am close enough to grab on, and wrestle it into a draw, hoping it doesn't kill me.

In a row of 5 treadmills, I had the far right machine, and on the far left were two young people each using a treadmill, between us two were unused.  They were, from the way it sounded to me, sprinting, at a breakneck pace, running as though demons were chasing them, pushing the machines, and their bodies, to the limit.  To my keenly trained ears, and well honed sense of reality, these people were running for their lives.  Here is the crazy bit, despite the fact that they were sprinting in an all out assault on some sort of record for speed and endurance, they were having a spirited, lively conversation, laughing, and enjoying the heck out life, and each other.  All at a heart stopping, lung destroying dead run.

Atilla the personal trainer

On the other side, more young people were using resistance trainers to make themselves even more muscular and well defined.  Lifting enormous piles of weights with ease.  Muscles contracted, mountains moved, big, toothy smiles, light, cheerful, happiness, and joy, it made me a little nauseous. Weren't these people supposed to be working out?

I raised the incline, and increased the speed, and looked straight ahead.  Listening to "Attila Cometh"  by Mike Duncan, for his "History of Rome" podcast.

It seems Attila and his brother Bleda had made a big mistake driving into Persia.  It was a costly, unsuccessful campaign, and the Hun population was not pleased.  Turns out people have been complaining about the government for hundreds of years, who knew.  Anyway, he decided to make a little extra coin by kicking the livin' crap of the Romans, and he did. Constantinople (the Eastern Roman Empire) made this much easier, having sent legions of troops to the Western Roman Empire (Roman Empire Light) to battle the Vandals in North Africa earlier, turns out this was a big mistake. Anyway, the Huns won, the Romans agreed to pay them a lot of money every year to not invade them, and life went on.  Who can resist a story with Vandals, Huns, and Romans?  I can't.

It was pretty intense for me, I went farther, faster, and higher than Monday, and my legs were rubbery, and my breath came in gasps, and I slowed down.  But, I took the advice offered so freely on Monday, and did it again.  "Interval training" is what she called it, torture, and deprivation, and pain is what I was thinking.   Honestly, though, I feel pretty good about myself  (which is more than Theodosius (emperor of the Eastern Roman Empire) can say, more on that later).

So, I will be back on Friday, to show all of those kids how old people can still get up and go, as long as it isn't too high, or too fast, or too far.

Maybe we should try "social welfare organization."

We, here at Life Explained (#lifeexplained) have decided to become a tax exempt organization.  It is a lot easier to make some serious cash that way.  Plus, it would really cut down on the paperwork, probably.  We are not sure what type yet, but we are leaning toward a Labor Organization, since we have been known to really bust some sweat, particularly on Taco Tuesday, man it can get intense.

Each person in the line douses his taco with the spiciest, hottest salsa, and then adding crushed, red peppers, and tabasco. Everyone, to a person, pouring on a little more than the previous consumer.  All in an effort to prove his superior masculinity, and worthiness, as evidenced by his ability to endure burning, blinding, crippling pain, and toxic heartburn.  "Oh, did you add hot sauce to yours, I don't see any," and similar remarks inflame the situation.  Teaspoons are replaced by table spoons, giving away to serving spoons, to ladles, eventually somebody will just pour it over the top of his taco, a volatile, inflammatory gravy.

Jalapeno, habanero, and ghost pepper odors mixing with the smell of uncontrolled agony, and the sounds of weeping, and thrashing about overwhelm the senses.  People are laying on the floor, palsy beginning to set in, longing for a drink of water, hoping for release.  But, still saying, "this is kind of mild, isn't it?  We should really get something with a little kick.  Unless you guys can't handle it."  Sweat and tears streaming down a reddened face contorted by torment, asking for just a touch more Red Devil sauce.

But, we don't know if that kind of labor once a week is enough to get us by.   Remember what Groucho Marx said.  "The secret of life is honesty, and fair dealing.  If you can fake those, you've got it made."  We needed a backup plan.

Maybe we could file as an educational and research facility 501 (3) (c).  It makes sense, we are always learning, and teaching, and research is the engine that drives the boat.  We are born educators, with a passion for knowledge.

Last Tuesday we asked our CPA about the chances of getting a 501 (c) plan, and he said we would be lucky to get a 501 (d-).  Maybe Mexican food doesn't agree with him, some lightweights
can't handle a little spice, you know.

Working out with the Oldies, way back to 438 AD

Yesterday was the day.  It was kind of frightening.  It is a room full of machines, I am not comfortable with machinery.  But, a resolution requires some sacrifice.

Fluorescent lights are activated by motion detectors, which is a little creepy, a high tech solution to energy waste, and I am not very comfortable with technology.   But, a resolution requires some resolve.

The smell of antiseptic cleaner was subtle, but there, leaving the nagging question, is that really necessary? What kind of germy people were using these machines, exhaling, and grabbing with bacteria covered hands, you could almost hear the staph infections skittering across the floor, I am not really comfortable with germs, and infections.  But, a resolution requires some stupidity

A treadmill was a good choice, not much risk of looking foolish walking, right?  There is a whole row of treadmills, lined up neatly, facing the window, which looks over the street.  But, the panel was filled with buttons, and words, and choices, so I asked for help.

Since I was the only person, stupidity would have been magnified, and letting a machine outsmart me would have been a source of great mirth at the next meeting of physical fitness coordinators.  She explained the machine, it was not really difficult, this button starts it, this button speeds it up, or slows it down, this button raises or lowers the incline, and, all important, this button stops it.

Great, but there were a bunch of buttons, and lights, and things, what about those?  I didn't ask, maybe it is best not to know, maybe she would say, "don't worry about those, fat boy, you can't handle those buttons."

So, we started, me and the machine, and it was good.  I walked comfortably for a while, listening to a podcast, about Rome, which is a lot more interesting than you might imagine, at least it is a lot more interesting than I imagined.  Soon I realized that it was too interesting, and I was there to "work" out, so I pushed the button to increase the speed.

"Hey, this is good," I thought.  I was working, and it was good.  So, I raised the incline, and it felt good, the pace was pretty brisk, and the angle was, well, not flat, anyway.  After raising both again it was better.  I went for a while, working, and breathing, and feeling pretty good about myself.  Not quite so good about Romulus Augustulus (more on that later), though.

After cooing down, I stopped, a little sore, a little winded, and very happy that I had started.  I asked the attendant about combining some resistance training, and she said that was a good idea.  But, most important she said was to keep trying, anything was better than nothing, and she recommended "intervals."  Which, from her explanation, sound devilish, and difficult, but I will give them a shot.  She finished with the advice, "Anything is better than nothing, so don't give up."  And, it hit me, starting was important, but continuing, that is where the difference lies.

Tomorrow, I am returning, with a renewed vigor, a better plan, and a Visigoth podcast, or maybe something about Vikings.  If you know any good podcasts about Vikings, Visigoths, Vandals or Huns, please let me know, before Wednesday.

It is time for a change, I really mean it this time, really.

Inclement weather caused schools to be cancelled for two days last week.  Since the gym where the miracle is scheduled to be performed is in a school building the physical section of the transformation of Tim will begin this week.

For those of you keeping score at home, the writing portion of the transformation has already begun.  It is subtle, admittedly, but each time I put fingers to keyboard a conscious effort is made to add more, to change patterns, to bring more details to life.  To those who have noticed, thanks, to those who haven't, well that is too bad, there will be a quiz, and that may spell big trouble.  But, don't be too concerned, there is still time to repent.

Not going to the gym for the last week has given me the opportunity to research the use of various equipment.  My wife asked if I were ready, and found an article for me to read, it was titled "Don't overdo it, and come home complaining because you are sore and aching."  And it was written by my wife.  Just kidding.

It was actually very helpful.  It talked about using the various machines, and the benefits, and potential pitfalls of each.  It was kind of eye opening, in that it was written for people over 50, which I am, and it made me realize that I am a complete dunderhead, (noun, informal; stupid person) when it came to all of these machines.  They have all of these buttons, knobs, and gizmos (noun, informal; word used by dunderhead to describe a device he will never understand), none of which make sense.  Some of them look like the cockpit on the space shuttle.

So, I have carefully researched my options, and am a much better informed consumer of gym services than I was at this time last week.  I will walk into the gym this afternoon, head held high, and ask the attendant, who my wife assures me is a very nice young man, and is not likely to ridicule me (which means my wife probably briefed him, and he is prepared), how to operate the least intimidating looking machine I see.  Eventually, the plan is to build a rapport with the attendant and have him show me how to operate all of the machines, and become a seasoned workout professional, rippling with sinewy muscle, exuding strength, and self confidence.  But, that will take a while.

So, tomorrow, will be the first edition of the Great Transformation of Tim Newsletter!   Don't forget to subscribe, you won't regret it, at least not very much.  Hey, let me know if you have a workout resolution, or any self improvement goals for 2015.  I would love to expand the newsletter.

Your Winter Vacation Hot Spot

Climate change has altered things all over.  The cold has started wafting across the River Styx, reducing the ambient temperature in Hell. Cerberus is wearing a lovely argyle dog sweater to stay warm.  He does look dashing, and very stylish.  But, with the temperature so moderate, and comfortable, Hades is no longer such a forbidding, punishing place.  Since most of the income was generated by the hellish nature of the place, and the incarceration of those less than wholesome new revenue streams were required.

Tourism is very profitable for places with comfortable, temperate climates, and Hell has cooled significantly the last several years.  The Polar Vortex has a long, powerful reach.  It seemed only natural to build a few resorts, start adverting, and bring in some of those free spending visitors.

Obviously, there is plenty of plenty of cheap labor, so building new hotels and amusement parks was not a problem.  Nor was staffing them.  Plus, with the more comfortable temperatures the people who were put there to suffer, were having a pretty easy time.  Putting them to work as laborers, carrying, toting, hammering, using filthy portable toilets, it would be suitably biblical.  At least it would be better than having them laying around enjoying the unseasonably pleasant (in any season) weather.

Since labor laws, or the laws of physics, don't really apply in the pit of everlasting misery construction wrapped up quickly.  Sprawling, extravagant, sumptuous vacation resorts with indoor pools, water slides, underworld class golf courses.  It was wonderful beyond imagination.

Of course, they needed to hire a good advertising firm to overcome all of the negative press.  Years of everlasting punishment, fire and brimstone don't make for wonderful travel posters.  

Scrubbing the sulfur smell from the environment was not a simple matter, but a little ingenuity, several cans of Lysol, some scented candles and ceiling fans, and the odors of torment and despair were no worse than most places filled with tourists.

So, the new hot spot (really, nice, warm spot) during the long weeks of insufferable, terrible winter , Hades.  Your #1 golf and goofing off destination, Hades, the Underworld Paradise Destination, bring your swim trunks.  Remember, it is warm, but it is a dry heat.

Hey, mind if I stop by?

My family has a decidedly agrarian history.  We trace our roots, as far as I have traced them anyway, to the Northern Great Plains.  I still have family there, and whether they like it or not I stay in touch.  Since I live so far away, it normally does not bother them too much.  Every couple of years or so, though, I show up, (appetite in hand, pining for a beer) similar to allergies, or gastritis.  Uncomfortable, recurring afflictions, that are too persistent, and painful to ignore, with no known cure.  They feed me, give me a few beers, and hope I don't last too long.

You may wonder why I bring this up (and may be starting to side with my family).  Don't worry, I'm getting there.  Today, one of my cousins updated her Facebook Picture to a smiling, happy, comfortably, yet fashionably dressed photo of herself, taken, obviously, in warmth, and sunshine.  I commented that it looked so warm we should visit in January.  My wife will lecture me tonight, pointing out that I should have commented on how nice my cousin looked, instead of the weather.  But, she wasn't around and it is my cousin, after all.

Anyway, my cousin said we would be welcome.  This might have been because she wasn't home, which is normally when people (particularly people who know me) want me to show up.  And, my cousin added that the picture was from warmer times, and if we waited until we normally showed up we could suffer through the blistering, humid summer instead of the bitter, bone chilling arctic winter.  Then she apologized for complaining about the insufferable heat, while still dealing with the crippling cold.

People should not worry about those things, though.  Man was meant to complain, that is why we have voices.  So we can raise them in unison, in a glorious, harmonious, chorus of complaining and whining, mostly about the weather.

If you watch the news they spend an inordinate amount of time covering the weather.  Radar, and Doppler Radar, and Weather Center Analysis, to bring you the breaking news that it may snow.  Or, it is going to be cold, and rainy.  Shiny maps, with animated graphics tell the tale of impending frost, or wind chill, or freezing rain, or drenching rain.  There are so many things to worry about.

You may still be wondering why I bring this up, and I can't really say anymore, who knows?  I certainly can't remember.  It had something to do with a trip to the grocery store last weekend.  My wife and I went through the self checkout line, where you can experience all of the excitement of retail employment, all the thrills of products that won't scan correctly, all of the drama coupons being declined, and prices being incorrect, lines filled with sighing, angry people backing up as far as the eye can see, without all of that pesky pay and benefits.

As we finished, I noticed there was a loaf of bread in one of the bags.  Someone had bought the bread, and forgotten to take it home, and it was as good as ours.  It was just waiting for me to pick it up, put it in the same hand as the groceries we had struggled and scraped, and fought our way through the store to buy.  It was found income without the 50% tax rate.  Oh, glorious day.

Then I remembered.  That is almost exactly what happened to Jean Valjean.  A free loaf of bread did not sound so appetizing anymore.  I rushed it over to the person supervising the area, looking to avoid the gendarme.  Ready to bolt, a life on the run, no hope for redemption.  But, they wouldn't take me alive!

It is lost in the crazy workings of a Friday, but somewhere my cousin is responsible for this.  That is certain, what is less clear is how.  But, I have a whole weekend to come up with something.

Top Secret meets Irresistible Force.

While our search continues for the ideal executive officer for Life Explained we have decided to try other, well tested approaches to the day to day operations of the company.  Obviously, CEO for a day did not work.  But, there are many different approaches to running a multinational, top secret, enormously profitable, fantastically innovative research and development facility.  We think.  

It is hard to say, for sure.  There are not a lot of periodicals, or publications discussing top secret research facilities management practices, probably the top secret thing.  

Maybe, though, there are mountains of research, hidden away in deep caverns.  Using stealth, and cunning to infiltrate the facility we can make off with all of information.  Of course there are probably heavy iron gates.  Gates covered in locks.  Gates patrolled by machine gun toting judo experts, reeking of energy drinks, after shave, and testosterone.  

Probably dogs, too.  Big, drooling, vicious dogs, who are not slowed by the weighty addition of rabies, or distemper vaccines.  Barbed wire collars, kevlar helmets reflecting the florescent light, untrimmed claws clicking on tiled floors as they goose step in front of the only entrance.  Don’t forget the robots, armed with laser rifles, waiting just inside the electrified fence.  

Obviously, this is going to take some planning.  

What we need to do is convert the espresso machine into a large bore, high velocity glue gun.  We can mount it on top of the Prius, right in front of the sunroof, and use the HSD (Hybrid Synergy Device) to super heat a 4 gallon bucket of Roberts Wood and Bamboo Floor Adhesive (only $240.50 @ at Grainger's) to 375°F (17 Pounds Sterling °C).  Using the high volume air compressor (Ingersoll Rand Garage Mate Air, 2 HP 5.2 CFM, only $559.99 at Northern Tool, with free shipping (act now, limited time offer)) soon to be installed in the hatch back (powered by the CVT (Continuously Variable Transmission)) we will spray the entire security contingent, with quick drying commercial adhesive.

They will be helpless, solidified, watching as we drive off with all of the carefully guarded secrets.  Secrets once believed inaccessible.  It will be the heist of the century.  Of course, the century is barely 15 years old, (or maybe 16, depending on math, and we don’t want to go down that road, and fall into that abyss, again do we?) so it may not last, but still it will be cool.

Wait, that isn’t what we were discussing at all.  Oh, yes, our search for leadership.  We tried a democratic approach, and that was a mess, everybody voting on everything, we can explain that tomorrow.  It took forever, but our time is gone for the day.  And, we have some technical work to perform on Bob's (Bob from Inventory Control) car.  

Tune in, for Life Explained, A Failed Republic, or “I Vote For Cream and Two Sugars In Your Coffee, it’s just better that way."

The Search Continues. Now Hiring part Deux.

We posted an ad for a new CEO last week, and the response has been overwhelming.  People are lining up outside the office now, looking for an edge.  Some carrying signs, "hire me, I am perfekt for the job," or "hire me, I have a degree in 'top secret organization management,'" or "hire me, I need a job, and I know where you live."  Clearly, there are many strong candidates for the position.  But, we have also been inundated with internal candidates as well.  It seems everybody wants a chance to choose what to have for lunch.

Feeling it would be a mistake to overlook a choice that was already sucking up some of the payroll we started evaluating the prospects within.

We have always been an egalitarian group, and that isn't going to change.  Everybody contributes to the success of our organization, and everybody has a stake in our continued growth, and everybody should get a say in a matter this important.  So, we took all of the names of the people who expressed an interest in being the big kahuna, the wheel, the suit that runs the store, if you will, (oddly enough it was everybody in the whole company) and voted.

It was a close race, but in the end, it was a tie, everybody had one vote.  At first we thought Dr, Dawg won, he had two votes.  A recount revealed he had voted twice, though.

It didn't take long for that little trick to catch on and people were rushing to pens, paper and ballot box. The sound of pens, scribbling furiously, was almost unbearable, and the boxes were bulging, overflowing with scraps of paper, index cards, napkins, anything that a name could be written on.

We decided the best way to handle the promotion was an essay contest.  "How I would handle authority, and the responsibility of being in control."  Everybody turned in copies of the US Constitution, the Emancipation Proclamation, the Magna Carta.  Good examples of the use of power.  It was too hard to choose, we should have said it had to be original.

We thought about an arm wrestling contest, but Bob from the Department of Weight Lifting was too big.  Which is kind of surprising, most of did not even know we had a Weight Lifting Department.  A good executive would know these things, another reason to continue the search.

One idea that seemed plausible, taking turns, everybody would get to run the company for one day.  We setup a rotation.  Every day the CEO would be from a different department.  We felt this was the fairest method, plus it would provide a fresh perspective daily.








On the first day, Bob, from Customer service sent the following email.  

When he was informed that was probably beyond the scope of his authority, he tried to fire everyone in the company, screaming, "you will feel the wrath of Bob, the Invincible."  It took the entire secretarial pool, and the guy delivering the donuts, and cookies to subdue him.  Fortunately, none of the donuts, or cookies were damaged.

We are still looking for a CEO, and will continue our search.  If you know anybody competent, have them contact us at TweettweetJohn@yahoo.com, or leave a comment with their qualifications, educations, and list of medications below.

Thank you,

Wanted, Person to Run Top Secret Organization.

Today, we here at Life Explained (#lifeexplained) are working on an organizational chart.  It is not an idle exercise.  Last week we were planning to get lunch, a little reward for a year of hard work, well not the whole year, goals reached, sometimes, accomplishments, in a way, and teamwork, occasionally.  The planning seemed simple.  All we needed to do was pick a day, a time, and a meal.

We met in Kitchen / Break Room, on the 6th floor.  That is where the party was going to be.  It made sense to have the meeting there.  We could experience the aura, ambiance, and the party details would flow from the feeling of the room.  That was the plan, anyway.

We started with a little small talk, some polite conversation.  Shortly, we commenced business.

"We should have Pizza."  Bob, from Research and Development said.  "Giuseppi's is great, close, and they deliver."

"No," Bob from Building Services, said, with emphasis.  "We have pizza all the time, my department is sick of pizza.  We should have Indian Food, it carries a wide variety flavors, and textures, it is a rainbow of options, and tastes.  We never have Indian food.  There is a great little place not too far from here.  I will pick it up myself."

Bob, from Accounting would have none of that.  "Indian food for that many people would be ridiculously expensive.  We might as well just feed everybody money."  He was angry, and it showed.  He was shaking, and his voice trembled.  "We should have a pot luck buffet, everybody can bring in their favorite dish and some paper plates, and plastic cutlery, and maybe a roll of paper towels to use as napkins.  It will be so fun, and interesting, a look into the lives of all of our associates."

"Yeah, that is a great reward for a wonderful year of sacrifice, hard work, and dedication, fix a meal for your coworkers, some of whom have been goofing off most of the year, and will probably bring something awful for lunch.  No thanks."  Bob, from Marketing, said.

Bob, the accountant threw a solar powered calculator across the table.  It bounced off of Bob the marketeers head.  He jumped up, pulled a stapler out of his briefcase, and tried to smash it into Bob, the accountants hand.  He missed, and staple stuck in Bob from R & D's sleeve.  He swung his fist, missed, and knocked a cup of ice water into the lap of Bob, I don't remember which Bob, sorry.

Things got a little out of hand, and the fight spilled over into the hallway, Bobs were wrestling, fighting, rolling down the aisles between the cubicles.  Curses, and cries of agony were echoing off of the walls.  Chairs, desks and tables were overturned, and people were starting to swing  table legs, notebooks, and computer keyboards.

Fortunately, everybody has been working so hard all year that they have not been making time to go the gym.  It did not take long for the combatants to end up laying is sweaty, panting, useless piles all over the 6th floor, and the worst injury was to Bob's hand.  He fell asleep laying on his arm, and strained his thumb.

We decided the best way to say thanks was donuts, coffee, and some money, everybody was very grateful, except for the people on the 6th floor, who are waiting on new desks, chairs, tables, and keyboards.

We decided that having one person in charge was probably a good idea.  Someone who would make the tough decisions, like what to have for lunch.   So, we developed this chart, now we need to decide who to plug into all of the slots.  If you have what it takes to run a world class, top secret, research facility, with ties to governments, and corporations around the world, and solar system, and beyond, please apply in the comments, and we will schedule an interview, unless we decide to hire a friend.

Change is coming, want to go along for the ride?

2015 is here.  And, looking ahead, this is the year I am going to make some changes.  Normally, resolutions are anathema, but this year is different.  

I have decided to become a better writer, (yes, I realize writer is a stretch, how about better at writing?)  and on the 5th of January, next Monday, I am going to workshop.  It is free, at a local library.  It may help, it may not, but, it can't hurt.  It is just the first step in the transformation of Tim.

Looking back, it is difficult to say when I decided this was the year.  But, it was similar to when I decided to quit smoking, it was just time, there was no doubt, and I never looked back.  This is the same thing, it is time, and it seems obvious.  Here we go again.

Plus, I am going to start working out.  There is a gym of sorts where my wife works, it has treadmills, rowing machines, resistance machines, stair climbers, free weights. Importantly, it has an employee who will help you understand how to use the machines.  It is not a gym for body builders, or professional athletes, but it is more equipment than I could ever use.  I am very excited by the opportunity, and on the 6th of January, next Tuesday, I am going to start going to the gym.  Another step in the transformation.

My goals for exercise are going to be along the lines of "work out three days a week for at least thirty minutes each visit."  I will add more concrete goals as my ability, and understanding increase.  My goals for being a better writer are less easily defined, but I will come up with something.

To reward myself I bought myself a new notebook to track my progress.  It has a quote from one of my favorite writers.  And it was on clearance sale, which makes it so perfect.

I plan to document all of my attempts.  Either on a page of my current blog, or a new blog, dedicated to the reconstruction.  I am not sure which would be easier, I have been thinking about trying Word Press for a while, and maybe this is the perfect excuse.  One more step in the process.

Change is coming.  Nothing dramatic, nothing extreme, but self improvement does not need to be radical, and I won't last long if it is too difficult.  As soon as I get the page or blog up and running I will post a link.

This year will be different, I am convinced.  I hope you can join me, misery loves company, but so does success.  I would love to hear about your plans to succeed next year.