Hey, Haven't I Seen You Somewhere?

As part of my new, fit, healthy life style I walk at lunchtime. It is a good way to add a few extra steps, and see some different things. I work right on the edge of Downtown, not too far from the arena district. There are a lot of businesses around there, and a lot of restaurants, and there are always a lot of people around.  It is filled with life and energy, and easy to get lost in the sea of humanity.

But, not so easy that I haven't noticed strange things, dark things happening on the periphery. Things that the average person may not see, or comprehend, things that only an experienced blogger with an eye trained in the art of observation would notice.

One of the things I've noticed is how many people are exactly the same. Not just remarkably similar, but identical copies. Or, possibly can move in ways that defy natural laws and human abilities.

For example, I'm walking south down North Front Street, and I see a person, dressed in a particular manner, carrying a particular purse, pack, bag, or satchel, walking north on North Front Street. No big thing, a lot of people like to walk up Front Street in the Arena District, though I am not sure why, all of the action is on High Street, just a wide, long block over. Including the Chicken Truck, serving chicken for lunch, and being actively advertised for by a giant dancing, singing chicken.*



But, then I go left on West Spring Street and am now heading east, and see the same person, wearing the same clothes, carrying the same accessory. Either that person is exactly like that other person, or that person pulled some enormous feat of speedy travel.**  The block at the intersection of Spring and Front is huge, and it takes almost 2,000 steps to get around (OK, I just guessed, I will check the actual  I will check the actual steps nest time I walk that way.  Isn't technology wonderful?). But, something is definitely amiss here.


The theoretical physicists, and the forensic biologists are working on the problem now.  But, Dr Dawg has a theory. Between the late 50s and the early 70s, coinciding roughly with the end of the baby boom, they ran out of molds, or forms, or whatever they use in the production of humans, and they had to start recycling. So, there are many people who are cut by the same die.  Which makes as much sense as anything, I suppose.

Either that, or maybe there are not nearly as many people as we thought in this town. It is just a few people moving around a lot, and pretty quickly, in an effort to win more federal money.

Either way it is a little creepy, right up there with a giant, singing, dancing chicken.  And people eat that stuff?


*I am pretty sure it is just a guy dressed in a chicken suit. Since we all know birds are direct line descendants of dinosaurs I am not really keen to get close enough to find out.

**We haven't ruled out time travel, yet, but we haven't quite figured out how to do that, and we are pretty smart.

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.

Fitness, for the aging, and the unfit.

Of course we can never be too safe, there are problems and potential disasters everywhere.  Nobody will live forever, probably, though Doctor Dawg is working on some stuff right now that might...  I shouldn't say anything else.  Every day can be a struggle, with the forces of evil (in the form of old age, senility, heart disease, and who knows what else) closing in fast.  We need to stay active, keep our strength up, and present a moving target for all that life is going to throw our way.  There are several options for the recently not so young anymore.  Today we will discuss several.

You could take a dance class, some high intensity hip hop thing with weighted gloves, and loud music, and poor ventilation.  These are offered in many places and the cost is normally quite affordable.  Of course, the music is not really for older folk, like us.  So, you will need to be open minded.  And there are going to be many people who don't wiggle, shake and shimmy like a flesh colored wave experiment with each bounce and jump and lunge.  So you will need to be self confident.  And, you will probably need to bring your own oxygen, most of these kids at these things can still breathe after what will be the most awful, torturous, terrible forty five minutes of your life.  As you lay there steeping in a puddle of your own sweat, barely able to move, and trying to gasp out "hey, can I borrow a smoke, or a defibrillator, I don't care which?" they will step casually over your prone, limp, almost lifeless body, talking about how excited they are to get to spin class.  You will be too tired and your arms to stiff and sore to even trip one of the smug, arrogant punks.  But, those are not for everybody.

Martial Arts is another fine option.  Learning self defense and discipline while toning and slimming.  Dreams of Walking Tall, Billy Jack, and Enter the Dragon dancing through your head you sign up and write your check.  Things go great, until the first shoulder separation, ouch, "sorry, but could you cut up my baked, boneless, skinless chicken?  My arm is so sore."  And then the broken toes, and at such an advanced age they are debilitating.  Sprained ankles, deep tissue bruises, and a cracked rib, soon you need a walker, and not the cool Star Wars kind, the lame, old people version.  "I am taking my lawyer to class next week, I will show them self defense!"  Maybe you should look into something else.

I started walking during my lunch break.  So far there have been no incidents, but I will keep you posted.  Of course if I walk past too many bakeries it may not be all that slimming.  Here are the maps of my first two days, complete with pictures.  Today, I am heading south, and a little east, I hear there is a place over there that makes cupcakes that are so good grown men weep, openly, and fall to their knees in rapture.  That is a good cupcake.