Ever since I sliced my fingertip off, I've semi-subconsciously avoided making them again. But, had a craving, so whipped up this batch of whole-wheat pumpkin this morning.
I guess it's true, what go around come around.
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I asked the lady behind the supermarket deli for 250 grams of shaved ham.
She picked up a handful of meat, dropped some of it, picked up a little more. The scales showed 280 grams.
"Sorry, I was guessing," she said, apologising for not being some ham-measuring cyborg, I guess.
"It's okay," I told her. "I was guessing how much I'd even need."
I think that's what everyone is doing in life. Doing their best, guessing. That's what I guess.
This afternoon I paid ninety-dollars for shockwave therapy on my hamstring origin tendon. For those unacquainted, shockwave therapy breaks down scar tissue using electrical pulses. For those acquainted, we now know how cattle feel. It is unfortunate to pay so much money to experience the closest thing to torture I can recall experiencing, but the doctor did have to spend five minutes handling my taint and I understand the need for compensation.
Afterwards, I had twenty minutes in town to kill before my train home. I visited a second hand bookshop, just in case they had any copies of Asimov’s Science Fiction Magazine, which is very hard to find in Australia. They did not, but I browsed the paperbacks awhile and yearned for a book deal, then left to catch my train. On my way out I glanced into an adjacent restaurant which was shutting up for the day. It was a cafe near my old office building. One that offered a solid range of tasty meals that weren’t hard on the wallet, combined with a quiet table to sit at and a newspaper to read. Today the tables were empty, but the proprietor was behind the counter. We only made eye-contact a second, then he winked at me.
I should not have waited until mid-winter to try and wear in my new jeans.
I mean, that's not really what's happened. I've tried a few times since February to work this pair of Levis in into something that accommodates my thick calves and lengthy pegs. I have a lot of confidence in these jeans, the fit around the waist is perfect, the inseam matches my anatomy all the way down. It's just twisting, bending, and sitting that provokes odd murmurs and constrictions.
You always take for granted the comfort in a pair of jeans well worn. My previous pairs were bought in 2014. The blue pair has butt holes, so I've been wearing the black pair in almost all situations since I first felt that unexpected breeze.
God it hurts. I don't remember new jeans being this tough. I Googled how to break in denim, and found an article which recommended wearing them in a warm bath for fifteen minutes, then doing ten sets of squats. My back doctor said I shouldn't do squats, but my other doctor said I should attempt more exercise to try and fix my back pain, even if it hurts in the short term.
This gave me an idea.
I'd love to exercise again. And I'd love to have a comfortable pair of jeans. (I'm not naive. Like the planet, that black pair isn't going to last forever.) At some point I'm going to need to suck it up and wear the new pair all the way in. I figured, why not do exercise in my new jeans? Push myself towards fitness goals, and break in that denim simultaneously.
I called this my stretch goal.
So, on a sunny Sunday I commenced this operation. To do 12,000 steps, and numerous body motions, in my new Levis. After a few side bends and squats at home, Vanessa and I visited Ikea. There, navigating that labyrinth, I threw in a few goose steps and lunges for good measure. Then we went to the outlet mall, parking got my heart rate up, and I did another short set of squats as I found a pair of "stretch" jeans in a menswear store. After standing, with these new jeans on, and then squatting again, making sure I could pick my keys up off the ground, sit on a stool, access my intimates, I realised that for $35 I could achieve what I'd set out for. A comfortable pair of jeans without butt holes. I bought them immediately.
Ironically, all that punning about in the lead up actually stretched out my Levis. I guess mid-winter was a good time to wear in my new jeans.
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I was disappointed this morning when my new norm of back to back meetings meant I didn't have a free half hour to mix cereal, fruit and yogurt together and eat it. Repetition, a sensitive tooth, weather so cold that my yogurt warms up after I take it out of the fridge, have not swayed my affections for this pre-lunch ritual.
This afternoon, after I spotted my yogurt tub in the kitchenette fridge, I went to my calendar to see if there would be time Thursday to fit in second breakfast. To my despair every thirty minute block had been allocated to some need or another. Then I noticed one appointment, at 10:30, simply titled “busy”. It had no location or other attendees, and I remembered that last week when I saw my calendar filling up for the morning that I booked out half an hour just in case I wanted to eat cereal and yogurt.
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