Ray and I wanted to get some decorative stones for our yard. I just figured we’d have the same people who sold us the gravel for the driveway deliver a bunch of random boulders. I was wrong. You have to go pick them out. You have to go rock shopping.
Having never picked out rocks, I wasn’t sure what characteristics to look for. It’s not like you can hoist one up and thump the side of it like a cantaloupe. We spent about an hour with a paint pen marking the rocks and boulders we wanted. Some of the stones were small enough to pick up ourselves so we decided to take them home in the trunk.
To pay for the rocks, they weigh your car, you load it up and then they weigh it again to determine how much to charge. While we were loading up, I saw a small stone off to the side that had unusual markings on it (see photo). It was small enough to fit in my hand. I liked it a lot so I tossed it in. Now I’ve got this rock and I don’t know what to do with it. I thought about using it as a paperweight but I don’t use much paper in my line of work.
I’ll probably find a special place for it in the yard. Perhaps I’ll put it in an unusual spot and then when people come to visit we can play, “Find my Rock”. Hmmm, that didn’t come out right…
Yesterday marked two weeks without alcohol. I thought I would be more energetic and that those few extra pounds would be dripping off of me. It’s just not happening. I feel really quite blah most of the time. To make matters worse, there is an extreme lack of motivation impeding my day to day duties. It’s so hard to get going in the mornings and after lunch, my eyelids get so heavy that I just want to crawl under my desk and take a siesta.
I have been working out though and man is it hard. It feels like I’m pushing a boulder up a hill–so to speak. The final buzzkill on all of this is that every time I pick up any sort of news, there is an article about how fucked up your life gets after forty. Augusten Burroughs wrote in Details last month about how he had to go on a testosterone supplement because he was at the age (40+) when a man’s body drastically reduces its hormone production. I was also reading an article about a gay adult film actor/producer who said he had to retire from the acting part because, “…it’s just too hard to keep my body in shape after turning 43.”
Aaaahhh!!! I’m just not ready for that!! It’s like the moment I really decided to do something about my body, all these people are telling me it’s too late. It doesn’t matter how much effort I put into it, I’m destined to be forever flabby and grow man-boobs.
I’m too young to feel this old. Actually, I don’t feel old at all. My mother just had her knee replaced. She’s almost 80. We were talking about aging and she said “I just don’t feel 78.”
They say you should use mental imagery to focus on your workout goals. I’ve got the image alright–me with boobs.