Like Taking Hammers From A Midget

Ahh, today I am happy because I worked out yesterday. Did some time on the cycle trainer, a bunch of ab work...felt good. One of my instruction books pre-surgery said that I should avoid strenuous exercise for 8 to 16 weeks. I gave them three. That's plenty - they should be thankful for that much.

And I woke up this morning to Journey - that's twice already this week that I've awakened to "Don't Stop Believin'", and it gives me joy. (I know for a fact that the one thing Jason ALWAYS hated about me was my affinity for Journey and Def Leppard - I can't help it, I love cheesy 80s rock music. However, that was one of the defining "This man really loves me" moments in our relationship - he actually sat down and played a Def Leppard song for me on guitar. He's one of those people who can hear a song once and play it back perfectly, and I was shocked to see him willing to sacrifice cool points to play an acoustic version of "Animal" for me.)

I got a comment from a guy who went to the Orlando Supercross last weekend, and he has a ton of awesome photos on his blog of that, if that is of interest to anyone other than me, which I'm sure it's not. But they're pretty badass.

Three hours. That is approximately the amount of time I spent last night shuffling a deck of cards and watching poker on television. I think I'm developing some sort of illness. But it's okay - one night of getting my ass handed to me at the table in my own house should probably curb my enthusiasm.

I'm concerned that I have hit a wall in one of my relationships - the effort involved in the mere act of conversation concerns me. Please send good karma to my friendship.