Stupid human tricks and algebra

s'mores

I'm not sure why I continue to post when I continue to fall off the exercise wagon. I suppose it's to hold myself accountable. Again, I did nothing but exercise my typing fingers, parts of my brain, and every muscle in my drinking arm. I know it's summer and I know everyone is on vacation, but I really have to stop using it as an excuse to be lazy.

Last night, dinner with family at sister's camp with s'mores (nothing local about it) that the kids were psyched to make and the adults were not as enthusiastic about eating. Frankly, the majority of the marshmallows ended up on the ground, which is just plain gross.

what a bunch of fatties

And since I'm talking about gross, I guess I could mention my brother and both my sisters compared our stupid human tricks from when we were kids. (Sadly, one brother was missing from the dinner because he's in South Carolina, no doubt drinking sweet tea as I type this.) In the photo here, from the left, we have 1) able to flip her tongue over and then stick her tongue out of her mouth so it looks like a flat taco; 2) able to pull his skin a clear three inches from his neck; 3) able to squish nose flat and fold ear in on itself because there is no cartilage; 4) able to wiggle ears at amazing clip. I'd like to mention, this photo is weird. My sister at the left of the group is a size eight and that isn't a full couch. But, lordy, we do look like a big blob of fatties, don't we?

Today, I tried to do a bit of work but I didn't even succeed at that. I had a very unreliable Internet connection so wiggly ear sister and I went into town to use the Internet at the Skidompha Library but it was closed. (In the interest of being honest, I mention the library because I love to use the word "Skidompha.") We went to the Maine Coast Bookshop where we couldn't find seating so we walked across the street to Damariscotta River Grill (thinking we'd have a cocktail and maybe some Internet) but they didn't offer Internet, so we went back to the book store where all the tables had miraculously cleared out but, as we discovered after ordering our coffee, the tables had cleared because the Internet was down. So, we chucked it all and walked over to King Eider's Pub for a martini. I'm done picking fights with the cosmos.

But exercise? No. I did not walk. I did not run. I did not kick.

Sorry, that's a private joke that I should probably share. I have a friend who is a remarkably beautiful skier. When we were in college, she decided she might want to learn how to snowboard but she wasn't sure how to go about it, so the conversation turned to the whole "goofy foot" discussion about whether she should face downhill with her left foot or her right foot. She didn't know which. So, someone asked her which foot she kicks with. Her answer: "I...don't."

She doesn't walk. She doesn't run. She doesn't kick.

pretty christmas cove

I did have a chance to exercise my brain this evening because I borrowed my brother's car, which he apparently purchased directly from Germany because everything is in kilometers. I did some online conversion and discovered that 55 mph = 88 kmph and 25 mph = 40 kmph. I felt pretty comfortable driving down Route 1 on a busy Thursday night in August when the road is crawling with cops looking for any excuse to pull over an out-of-state vehicle until I hit a 35 mph zone. Okay. If 55 is 88 and 25 is 40, then 35 must be....x equals... drop...the...y....? What.....? It was the mental equivalent of running a 10K. I can't even do it now with pencil and paper. And there's talk of removing algebra from school curriculum. Bah.

Lunch today was Coveside in Christmas Cove. New owners--the same guy who owns Newcastle Public House--and you know what? Best frigging Bloody Mary with the best frigging BLT ever. No lie. Dinner tonight with the family was old-school beef, butter, and potatoes--and more than one joke about traveling back in time to the 1950s--and I have no idea whether anything was local. I'm on a slippery slope of negligence here.

Otherwise, I have little to report other than an ever expanding waistline and a cushier tush.