Another Glitch in the Matrix
Well, this is annoying. The low-grade infection that’s been hanging around like a broke cousin since early June has flared into a full-blown flu. I’m getting some writing done on dear Annja’s adventures. Which is a Good Thing. But I’m not getting any exercise - and poor Emma’s about to go stir-crazy because she isn’t getting her walks.
Frustrated.
I cannot believe this started when I blew out my elbow hoeing weeds in the freaking front yard. If that’s not the definition of ignominious, I need a new damn dictionary.
Ah, well. This too shall pass. Like Peyton Manning. The flu’s already fading, and I think the whole thing is winding down. My right elbow, unbelievably, is a still a little tender, which means I need to hold off a while on getting back to the kettlebells. Or even cat-stretches, which I really like (“Gonna have to face it, you’re addicted to dand.”)
Oh - on a completely unrelated note, I finally took the red pill (or is it the blue?) and signed on for MySpace. You can even, in the unlikely-seeming event you’re not getting enough of a Vic Milán fix, read my blog there, too. (I originally typoed that “glog.” I was tempted to leave it as found art. But it’d only make sense if I drink. Which I don’t. So, alas, babble on…)