Why did you do that?

The LA Fitness in downtown Bellevue is in a small galleria-style shopping center built on top of an underground parking garage. When I work out I have to take a ticket on the way into the parking lot and have it validated at the gym front desk when I scan my ID card. They have this little stamp machine that you insert the parking card into, push down on, and it stamps your parking ticket. A few days ago I spaced and did not stamp my parking ticket. On the way out of the garage I was in the unmanned lane where you just feed your stamped ticket into the machine and drive out. When I got to the machine and pulled my ticket out of my pocket I realized it had not been stamped. So I backed up my car (luckily no one was behind me) and got into the other lane where the attendant was working. Here is how that conversation went.

Him: What happened over there?
Me: When I got up to the machine I realized I had forgotten to stamp my ticket when I worked out at LA Fitness today.
Him: You are a member there?
Me: Yes. Normally I stamp my ticket at the front desk, but I forgot this time. Can you let me through anyway?
Him: You forgot to stamp your ticket?
Me: Yes.
Him: Why did you do that?
Me: (after a moment of stunned silence). I don't have an answer for that.

1420B

A conversation with a rotating stair machine set to program "aerobic", lvl 14, 20 minutes, while holding a medicine ball. (referred to henceforth as 1420B).

1420B: Back again with that medicine ball, eh? Didn't I whoop your ass last time?
me: Pipe down, I just beat you on 30 minutes.
1420B: Sans ball, hero.
me: Whatever, it's still a W.
1420B: Depends on what word it begins.
me: Well, I'm going all the way today.
1420B: Only setting me for 20 minutes? Why not 30?
me: 20 minutes with the ball is harder than 30 without, so this is a step up.
1420B: mmm.
me: I'm feeling good. Two minutes in, nice pace. I've got this.
1420B: 3 minutes, nice. Just have to do that 5 more times.
1420B : 4 minutes in. Only have to do that 4 more times. Think you can do that?
1420B : 5 minutes in. You sure you can do what you just did 3 more times?
me: shut it.
1420B: Hey, what's that on the horizon? Is that another 7 dot bar? So soon? Oh, and look, he has a twin.
me:*grunt*
1420B: Uh oh. The ball is down. Hands are on the rails. Can he even finish?
me:...
1420B: What was that? You say something? Or was that just a desperate gasp for air?
me: well, at least I finished.
1420B: If that's what you want to call it.
me: I'll be back. You're going down.
1420B: Bring it punk. You know where to find me.

All because

A song that I have had on CD for a long time has recently made its way into my mind and stayed there to bother me. Maybe bother is the wrong word since it has such a negative connotation. It has caused me to reflect on the happiness, or lack thereof, I have had at various points in my life over the last twelve years. That is roughly the span of time between now and when I became a follower of the Way. During those intervening years I have had wondrous "mountain-top" experiences of the sweet fellowship with our Creator-God available to His adopted children. I have also experienced the dark, lonely valleys one strays into when they run out from his presence into the murky night of worldliness. The instant fix of perpetual perfection I had hoped for when calling upon His name did not come. Instead I found myself in the midst of a violent war. A war which had actually been raging all along, I simply lacked the eyes to see it. Moreover, this war which previously had staged its battles beyond the borders of my being began to skirmish in my very heart. And now I daily struggle with the temptations of this world and the allure of sin to my still-not-yet-perfect heart. God did something though. He reached in and crushed a part of my being. A dark part. A seed of rebellion and of delight in sin. The part of me that had previously been able to break the law with abandon and revel in its pleasures. That part of me is gone now, irrevocably. Therefore, though I may and often do still sin its attendant pleasures have abandoned me. In their place I find only sorrow, heartache, and separation from my heart's true joy. It is this change, this breaking, this destruction of my God-hating, sin-loving heart, that has left me no choice in the matter. Though I may live in sin for even long periods of time, my heart finds no rest there. No peace. No contentment. He has ruined me to its touch. And so, in one graceful, powerful stroke he long ago won the war which rages still in my being.

And that is what these simple words from the Tree 63 song "All Because" reminded me of recently.

They tell me to abandon you
To make my dreams come true
So what am i supposed to do
If I only dream of you?

You covered up my sin
You covered up my silence
You covered up my shame
Made me new again

More fun times at the Dee Arr

"You will feel some cold and some pressure." A true, but insufficient warning. Let me come back to that. I want to go back two years to the previous record holder for most unpleasant maneuver performed on my body by a stranger. I pulled a groin muscle working out and went to the doctor to have myself checked for possible herniation. Prior to that examination my only exposure to hernia inquiry had been the perfunctory "turn & cough" ball cradling from high school sports. This doctor stepped it up a notch or ten, however, by actually finding a way to have his fingers enter my body through my groin. Before this rather unpleasant intrusion I was not even aware that the male anatomy provided such an ingress. I am fairly certain that in addition to determining that I had only strained and not herniated those muscles he also checked both of my kidneys through the same avenue for good measure. That event had been, until today, the single most unpleasant experience involving a doctor, or anyone for that matter, handling my body.

Today that record was broken. No, smashed. At the end of a long and rather pleasant physical examination my doctor asked me to lay on my left side and bring my knees to my chest. With my gown untied at the back by this point this left the rear end of my person clearly exposed for his next move. "You will feel some cold and some pressure", he said before entering. This was, I feel in retrospect, an inappropriately terse warning. I'm a big fan of brevity and so it packs an extra wallop when I say that a clear case could be made here for a bit more verbosity. Here is my proposal for a slightly longer, but immensely more helpful, preface: "You will feel some cold and some pressure. You will also feel a strong and seemingly irresistible urge to shit on my hand. I say seemingly because it can and should, in fact, be resisted."

subcutaneous testicular paresthesia

I have no idea what those words mean. However, this morning I had the first part of my two-part physical at my doctor's office. Why am I having a physical done? I was in the doctor's office last month for some pain in my head and neck. (The pain was caused by bruising near a nerve cluster at the base of my skull. The bruising was caused by a massage that went too deep. There is a lesson here if you are not sure how deep a massage should be in order to be effective, and you don't know whether to tell her to back off or not. If you feel tears well up in your eyes, have trouble breathing calmly, and are right on the verge of crying out to God for mercy you should probably ask her to back off.) When I was in for that visit he mentioned that even though I am only 33 and seem quite healthy it would be a good idea to have a physical done since I have never had one before. I thought about it over the next couple of weeks and decided "why the hell not." So, I was in the office this morning and I had to do two things: 1) give blood 2) make water in a cup. I had been given instruction about fasting starting at midnight the night before, but I had not been instructed that there would be a urine sample. In fact, I had been told to drink "a little bit of water". Thinking that this was part of the fasting I had, in fact, restricted my water intake to below normal levels this morning. (I usually drink at least a pint of water first thing in the morning.) And there I was in the doctor's office with the nurse giving me instructions on how she was going to stab me and then have me go fill a cup, when I realized I was not going to be able to comply with her kind request. "I'm fairly certain I can't do what you are asking", I replied. She gave me a puzzled look, but made no reply. I'm sure she has no idea what I've just said, so I clarify. "I was not instructed to drink water this morning and am quite sure I can't fill that cup right now." With a very disappointed tone, "you should have been told to drink excess amounts of water for this urine sample. Did you not know about the urine sample?" In retrospect I wish I had a line ready like, "Yes, I did know about it but I thought it would be a laugh riot to show up here with an empty bladder anyway." I didn't though so I said something matter of fact like, "no". "Well, we'll get you some water and you can sit in the waiting room until you are able to do it." (Does this sounds a little bit like a naughty kid being put in time out? "You are going to sit in time out until you make your pee pee young man".)

Next it is time for my blood to be drawn. I don't have a huge aversion to needles, but I don't much like them either. I've had friends and family members who I have seen go pale and even pass out when having their blood drawn. My reaction is not nearly that severe. Mine is more subtle. It is a secret little reaction all my own. You know that feeling you might get when going over the crest of a hill in a fast car, or on a roller coaster when the bottom drops out? Well, that's not it. But it is similar to that. There is a bit of tightness in the gut and maybe some tingle in the nuts. That is not really where the sensation is, but your brain sort of makes it seem that way. Anyway, sometimes when I get stuck with needles I have this tight and almost tingly feeling in my bowels, and part of the feeling seems like it is emanating from inside my balls. Yup, I'm a freak. Which is why I wish I had said at the time she stabbed me, "Excuse me, but I believe I am experiencing a subcutaneous testicular paresthesia".

Snip Doggy Dogg

SPRINGFIELD, Oregon (AP) -- For guys who park in front of the TV during college basketball's March Madness, the Oregon Urology Institute has a suggestion: Why not use that time to recover from a vasectomy? Need an excuse to say home and watch March Madness? An Oregon clinic suggests a vasectomy. "When March Madness approaches you need an excuse ... to stay at home in front of the big screen," the clinic's radio ad says. "Get your vasectomy at Oregon Urology Institute the day before the tournament starts. It's snip city." Institute Administrator Terry FitzPatrick said men need two to four days to recover from the procedure -- but not all take the time.He's reserved a dozen appointment slots for March 19, the day before the first tipoffs of the NCAA Tournament, and another dozen for March 26, before the tournament's second week.He reported filling 15 slots by Thursday afternoon and expects to fill all 24. The sports radio station broadcasting the clinic's ads promises to send each patient a recovery kit of sports magazines, free pizza delivery and a bag of frozen peas. Peas? "The frozen peas are malleable enough that you can get them right in there and get the swelling down," FitzPatrick said.

My homey "E-moneyhoes" dropped some rhyme bombs on those hos (with some minor edits from me):

Lay me up some frozen peas
Dunk them on these sore N. U. Tees
I Jis had a vasec-tomee
So you don’t get no K. I. Dees
while I watch my boys shoot some 3s

Graphing Physical Exertion

Last week I did 30 minutes on the rotating stair machine at level 10 while holding an 8 pound medicine ball. At certain intervals (when the bars were more than 5) I would hold the ball above my head, the rest of the time I held it near my stomach. At the end of that workout I was sweating really profusely and felt like I had had a great workout, but that I had some juice left. This week I thought I would crank it up by going to level 14 and using a 10 pound medicine ball for 20 minutes. This seemed reasonable to me at the time. The problem was that I had made a fatal assumption that the exertion required to complete the exercise was a linear factor of the speed, weight, and time variables I had adjusted. In other words y=x. The actual equation is graphed here for clarity:

Inadvertant Insults and their Impact on Casual European Swimmers

This morning at 7:40 am I met my friend Amal at the LA Fitness in downtown Bellevue. At lunch last week Amal told me that as a result of a recent physical examination (that indicated high blood sugar levels and other negative items) he was increasing his consistency of exercise. Part of his new regimen is swimming, but he told me that he really has no experience with swimming and was finding it quite difficult to complete six laps. I offered to coach him a little bit and this led to the Friday rendezvous.
The pool at LA Fitness has three roped lanes for lap swimming. Amal and I had the near side lane to ourselves. The middle lane had one woman in it and the far lane had one man in it. Amal and I began by having me watch him swim one lap, then moving on to some basic balance drills and kicking drills. During the course of this introductory lesson the woman in the next lane had been watching us most of the time, but had remained silent. As we were nearing the end of the lesson I was giving Amal instruction about not attempting the front crawl (freestyle) until he had mastered some other basic concepts. This is because he has an aversion to swimming with his head under water, which is required for proper freestyle form. To give him an outlet for exercise in the mean time while he works on his drills for the next week I wanted to show him the beginner version of the breast stroke. This is the version used by many beginners and recreational swimmers where the head is above water the entire time. This is how I introduced the idea to him.

me: I can tell that you have an aversion to swimming with your head under water. This is a completely natural reaction that many beginning swimmers have and is not a big deal. Your body wants to breath and when it can't breath in and out whenever it wants this can be unsettling at first. So, I want to show you a technique where you can swim with your head above water the whole time to give you something you can exercise with until we build enough foundation where you can do the front crawl. But, I just want you to know that what I am about to show you is NOT the correct form for the breast stroke.
(at this point the woman in the next lane, who I had not even noticed was swimming nearby in the next lane says)
woman: That's not the correct way huh?
me: No. I'd call it the beginner head out of the water way.
woman: Well, that is how we always did it in Europe.
(I am completely dumbstruck by her statement at this point. Without saying anything I turn back to Amal and continue the demonstration of the technique.)

Later on I puzzled over this exchange and realized what had happened. This woman had been swimming in the next lane the entire time using what I had called the "beginner head out of the water" breaststroke. Since I had not been paying any attention to her at all I only interpreted her question in the context of my work with Amal and therefore gave her a direct and honest answer appropriate for that context. Unfortunately, I had not realized that I had probably just inadvertently insulted her since she had been swimming that way the entire time. Here is the really interesting part, what does her Europe retort even mean? She was a middle-aged white woman with no discernible accent. This means she did not grow up anywhere in Europe. Did she visit there? Vacation there? Live there for a few years? While there did she participate in an active swimming regimen where they conformed to the European version of the breaststroke? Are Europeans dead set on swimming the breaststroke in an incredibly inefficient manner? (This is rhetorical. Europeans, and everyone else for that matter, know proper breaststroke form). Or is this one of those vague references to Europe that some middle/upper-middle/upper class white people make in an attempt to trump whatever had just been said because as everyone knows Europe is the center for all intellectual, cultural, and physical perfection?

As an interesting finale to the whole strange saga I also showed Amal the side stroke as a second "head above water" way to just get down the lane a few times. A few minutes later I looked up to see the woman in the middle lane trying to do a side stroke and doing it very poorly. When she saw that I saw her doing it she immediately stopped.

Technology is "The Awesome"

This afternoon I took my laptop with me to the bathroom. It was 1:55 and I had a 2:00 meeting to go to, but I knew I needed to crap before the meeting or I wasn't going to be able to think straight. I sat down in the stall, wiped the seat, applied to toilet condom and sat down with my laptop right where it was made to go: in my lap. And there, from the comfort of the semi-public restroom using the corporate wireless network I was able to check my gmail. In my gmail account I found an email from emiles saying I had new opportunities to gain minuscule amounts of frequent flier miles by subjecting myself to some new adds. Of course I immediately complied and earned 10 free miles by clicking through about 5 pages of ad crap. All this occurred while actually taking a crap to add a nice sense of harmony to the experience. I then typed up this blog entry, also while pooping. Time to head to the meeting. Cya.

A moment of insight

In a flash of insight this morning Melinda declared that the happy, playful, energetic version of me makes for far more enjoyable company than the tired, grumpy, mean, rude version of me. The local news outlets have all been notified. There is some initial reaction from them that I should be ready for national and international outlets to be contacting me soon about this development.

Sick and Tired

I'm so sick and tired of all the left-leaning weenies who infest this city, this state, my place of work, the airwaves, the media, etc... I'm tired of their bumper stickers about Bush, about the war, about creation since, about so-called choice. I'm sick of their snide comments in meetings, at cocktail parties, and around the water cooler about things such as: Christians are fundamental boneheads, creation science is unscientific ninnery, Bush is an illiterate liar, carbon footprints, global warming, education, the environment, whatever. Oh yeah, and here are some winners that are either outright topics or subtle underpinnings of all the others: there is no objective truth, morality (and truth) is relative. I'm so sick of the mindless, safety in numbers, follow the crowd, regurgitate what my news team told me to think, baa baa I'm a sheep way that people agree with this crap when it comes spewing out of someones mouth in the average group of yo-yos these days. "oh yeah". "right on man". "hahaha, so true".

No. BS. Untrue. NO NO NO. You pompous, arrogant weenies. Truth is on your side? Science is on your side? WRONG. You are sitting on a giant dung heap of rotten, false presuppositions. The gargantuan task of showing you this, is so daunting that the mere thought of it has drained all of my strength and hope and left me only with the ability to scribble out this useless and pathetic little blog entry. I used to be more energetic. I used to have fire and passion to debate and convince. Now I just feel that the whole effort is one big tiring exercise in futility. Who listens anyway? Is anyone really interested in the truth? How can you be when you don't even believe truth exists? So here I am. Frustrated. Angry. And sick of listening to your inane babble.

So, if you don't mind, actually even if you do, please take your useless God-hating noise elsewhere. Preferably somewhere private and secluded. Maybe one of your nice little meetings where you murder babies and hug trees.

Olympus WS-110 Digital Voice Recorder

I recently bought an "Olympus WS-110 Digital Voice Recorder" and I now take it with me everywhere. In the car for the daily commute, on hikes, everywhere. All those times when I would have an idea or want to jot down a reminder and could not easily do so are a thing of the past. It is really tiny and weighs only 1.7 ounces with the battery in it. Simply put, it is "The Awesome".

Here is a transcription (with very minor edits) of the voice recordings taken by my new lovely on a hike of Mt. Si on Saturday March 12, 2008. There are 18 entries from that hike.

1. Arriving at the Mt. Si parking lot, according to my cell phone, at 10:13 am. Elevation according to my altimeter 500 ft.
2. First quick break at mile mark 0.5. The sign says elevation here is 1120. Altimeter showing 800, so I am off by 300 ft. Adjusting now.
3. Second break 10:57. Sign: elevation 1940, mile 1.5.
4. Also, altimeter accurate at this sign.
5. At about 2400 ft the light drizzle that had been coming on and off the whole way turned to sleet and then hail. About 2500 ft started seeing patches of snow on the ground off trail. Now I am at mile marker 2.5, elevation 2760, time 11:26.
6. Bexar has been exceptionally good today. Very mindful, staying close by, very good with lots of people passing by.
7. At about 2900 ft there is snow in the path, but it is still boot hikeable. It is well packed down, not very slippery. Yaktraks might be nice, but I'm not putting mine on.
8. Revise that last, I am indeed putting my YakTracks on.
9. When I stopped to put my YakTracks on I am fairly certain I stopped at the worst place and at the worst time imaginable. It was a very narrow spot in the trail and off to the right was a pretty steep incline with trees and brush and snow. Luckily, at least there was a little stick there I could hook the end of Bexar's leash to. I took off my pack. Dig for my Yaktraks to get them out. Close my pack up. In the meantime people start going by. So I am holding my pack, pulling Bexar to the side and making him sit, and pulling on my Yaktraks. I am putting on my Yaktraks, standing on one foot, holding Bexar, people are going by and of course as I am trying to do this balancing act my butt bumps my pack and sends it sliding down the slope about 20 ft. Luckily, it hit some brush and stopped right after a patch of snow. So, after this long ordeal of putting on these Yaktraks, which are a pain in the ass to get on these boots, I have to climb down the hill to get my pack. Bexar tries to come with me while he is tied to the stake. I don't want him to choke himself so I make him "stay". I get my pack, climb back up, giant nightmare.
10. 12:05, mile marker 3.5, elevation 3620.
11. Just a little while ago the Yaktrack on my left boot came off, it was a pain the ass to put back on. I'm not liking these things.
12. It's 12:33. I'm at the top I think. Bunch of rock outcroppings around here. I'm not sure I'm at the very top, but I don't see a clear way to get there. Anyway, this is pretty good. Looks like from here, if it was clear, I could see forever. But, it's not. It's totally foggy and snowing, so I can't see diddly. Maybe 200-300 ft visibility. Very foggy. It is not snowing hard, just kind of constant light, small flakes. Got my pad out which is actually very warm on these rocks. Got Bexar's water out. Hes been eating snow like crazy so I figured he might be thirsty. I'm having a snack.
13. Time is 1:08, I've been descending for just a little while in the snow. Bexar is totally pissing me off and trying to make me fall. My knees are a little bit sore. My fingertips are little bit cold. I put on my rain jacket. All of my gloves: liner, inner glove, rain shell. Fleece jacket, undershirt, rain shell, head cover, fleece hat. Same pants, not putting on my rain shell pants. Starting to warm up now as I am going down. My fingers are not cold anymore. My Yaktrak on the left foot came off again.
14. (this entry is some poetry crap you don't want to hear, except what happened while I was making that note) *CRUNCH* Ouch! I just fell. That hurt.
15. I think I forgot to make a note about Bexar's poo. We were most of the way up. We were an area that was completely snow covered on the trail and the sides. It was hard packed snow with a crusty outer layer. Lots of people coming by, this trail is way too freaking crowded for me. Thank goodness we pulled off to the side, because right was we did that Bexar unleashed a fountain of liquid poo that was really gross and explosive. It was hot so it right into the top layer of snow and ice. He spread it out over about 2 feet of ground. So, here I am with other people going by. It stinks bad enough that some guys make are joking about it as they go by. All these people see this so I at least have to make some kind of show about cleaning it up. I scooped it up with a blue bag and buried that in a pit of snow. No one saw me do that part. I covered up the 2 ft of smeared, melted, poo-stained snow with more snow.
16. It's 2:50. I'm back to the truck in the parking lot.