So, I’ve experienced a few “rock-bottoms” in my life. A few of them have been referenced in this
blog. The Hospital Incident, the Denny’s
Imbroglio and last but not least the Great Dog Escape.
Well we had another one this weekend.
I know what you’re thinking “Well, Chunky, howsabout you get
off your pasty posterior and get moving again?”
Well, duh, America,
I’m trying. No, really, but it’s hard.
“Well, no kidding, but you’ve done it before.” Yep. So I can
do it again, I know I can. I know as I
wedge my ample frame squarely into the dreaded period of “Middle Age” I come to
grips with visions of mortality (and not just via the Celtic Frost song of the
same name!) and I realize the road ahead is going to be a good deal shorter
than the road behind unless, to continue this fairly clunky automotive analogy,
I take a different route. I think
there’s probably a “scheduled maintenance” joke I can make as well, but I’m
having a little trouble getting there.
My schedule, as you are probably aware, is packed fairly
tight. On at least 2 days a week I drive
directly from one job to another, leaving the house at 8:15, not returning
until 10:40 or so with a half hour for lunch and an hour drive between the two
gigs.
I have made a fair go of getting up at 6:50 to get the dog up and out, and at least
walk around the block twice. He’s a
meanderer, so that’s annoying, hard to get a good pace going. Sleep, however, is a harsh mistress. She lures me into her warm and welcoming
embrace assuring me I can “always start tomorrow.”
Of course having Fergus AKA Fergusy-Ferg, The Fuffus,
Furgatroid, Der Fuffenagle, Dr. Licky Pupperman DDS*
cuddle up to you as you try and get out of bed doesn’t help in the least. As World’s Snuggliest Yorkie-Poo he’s
duty-bound to attempt to sleep as long as possible, and lord knows the 14+
hours a day he gets simply can’t be enough.
Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah my annoying bottom!**
My son has Autism and our family belongs to an organization
called parents of Special People. Well,
this past Sunday was our Pancake Breakfast where we had families come together
and meet and network and eat some pancakes and ungodly amounts of
bacon.*** We also had some characters
scheduled.
These were suits to be worn by intrepid parents, and I
volunteered to be Cookie Monster. So I retreated to the back hall to change
wouldn’t you know I couldn’t fit in the damned suit.
Let me reiterate my situation, in case it wasn’t obvious
enough: I was too fat to play a Muppet who’s primary diet consists of baked goods.
My wife reassured me that the costumes are small, and yeah,
they are, but not THAT tight. So,
someone else put on the suit and my son RAN to him and hugged him.
Thank you, Gods of Irony, for that colossal crack in the
nuts.
And so, please tune in here because I’m going to try a
Monday/Wed/Friday update. We’re gonna
make the Fat Man accountable again, and see if we can’t get back towards
fitness.
* that’s for Doctor of Dog Stuff just so you know.
** Shut up, you!
*** and by families I mean me, primarily.
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