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June 15, 2000 |
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I was supposed to go kickboxing today. Just as I was leaving the
office, I get a call on my cell phone. Yes, I know that I could've
continued walking, but I didn't. It was Aileen. She called me up to ask me a couple
of questions. Okay, that's not entirely true. She called up to ask me for
my itinerary for my flight to Florida to visit her and she called me to
warn me about something else. I won't bore you with the details; it's
family related.
I did tell her that I was missing my kickboxing class. Generally, I hate
missing workouts. I quietly tell myself that I'm being a lazy slug for
doing this and that I could be working harder. However, lately my body has
been screaming at me to tell me that maybe there's something going wrong.
For one, the elbow on my throwing arm has been giving me fits lately. To
tell the truth, I have felt it ever since I started lifting weights
regularly, though typically only when I do a certain type of bicep curl.
Lately, it seems that I've been hurting considerably more and more
frequently. It's not the dull, "muscle glow" type pain either; it's the
acute pain that tells you, "Smack! What are you thinking?!"
She did suggest that I could simply do the regular, non-kickboxing workout.
That's certainly true. I could. However, I would hate to risk serious
injury on account of my stupid pride. If you think about it, it is not
much different than doing something stupid because someone tells you that
you're a wuss. The only difference is that you're that someone,
otherwise it's the same.
As I checked my mail at home I found that I got a
package in the mail. It contained a book (see left…) and a
birthday card from Lisa. Lisa and I
have been friends for a couple of years now, although it hardly seems to
that long. We started exchanging mail shortly after she reviewed my page
for the Featured Page program, which they don't seem to offer
anymore here at geocities, and we have been friends ever since.
I suppose the funny thing is that we have never seen each other face to face. It has been mostly e-mail. Still it's great to hear from her, though it seems that lately we have both been too busy to really correspond in e-mail. I open the card which is filled with confetti (though she did warn me). Believe it or not, this is also the first time I have even seen her handwriting, which is lovely by the way…
The book, World on a String is one that I had listed in my wish list. I had heard about it a number of years ago, and had even try to find it in a number of places to no avail. I had not even seen the book, though I was told that it was the foundation for many yo-yo tricks and books. After a while, I had quietly conceded that I would not be able to find it and that my efforts were fruitless. Still, I listed it on my wish list.
I still don't know how she managed to find it. It just means that she's either more patient or more resourceful that I am, or maybe a little bit of both.
Thanks, Lisa!. It's a very good book by the way!
I took a quick shower and was towel drying my hair. I called Pam and spoke to her on the phone for a while. We talked a little about what our respective days had been like. We normally only see each other on the weekends, because the Seattle traffic really is determined to make my life miserable. Oh, and if you think I'm suffering of delusions of persecution, you obviously must hate me too… Well, I was getting dressed so that I could go and get some dinner. As I talked to Pam I realized that she had not had dinner either. Naturally, I asked if she wanted to get dinner together.
It's funny. I don't think that it really occured to either one of us when we first mentioned dinner, but the only real reason is that we don't normally do it. Why stick with this convention?
I drove across the 520 bridge to see her. It wasn't that bad really, as a matter of fact the drive was even bordering on pleasant, which is a concept that eludes many of you, including Pam by the way. She seems to have a particular distaste for driving (or riding for that matter).
It was close to 10pm by the time I got to her place, and the options were somewhat limited that compounded with the fact that I normally go to Hooters on Thursday nights, actually it's a bit more ritualistic than you might think. On Thursdays, when I go kickboxing, I end up missing the baseball scores. Only the afternoon games would've finished by the 6:30pm time. After kickboxing, I'm pretty curious about the scores and drive to Hooters where they have at least half a dozen television sets, several of which tune ESPN. I'll go in and pick up the Seattle Weekly, which is released on Thursday. I divert my attention between the scores and whatever they're writing on the Seattle Weekly.
I suggested we go to Hooters, which happens to close at midnight. She acquiesced. There is one about ten minutes from Pam's place; we ended up going to that one. We chatted about more details on what we would do this weekend. She had gotten tickets to the Mariners' game for Monday, which is my birthday, and we had made some plans for Saturday already, but still we talked about these things.
I got what I normally get, which is an order of ten wings (hot), curly fries, and a coke. Pam got the Buffalo chicken fingers, which is what she got the first time she came to Hooters. I really was watching the scores and noted that Chuck Knoblaugh made three throwing errors and was pulled by his manager by the sixth inning. Three Throwing Errors! Not to say that I'm perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but I'm also not getting paid seven figures to field the occasional ground ball.
As for the Braves, they got shut out by a young Pirate named Kris Benson. Knowing your favorite team got shut out is not a nice feeling, it sucks actually. It put me in kind of a surly mood. Keep in mind that baseball is a different sport than most. Each teams plays 162 each year during the regular season. Yes, qualifying for the postseason is sometimes missed by one game, but in the grand scheme of things, one game is fairly insignificant.
Oh, the wings were good as usual. We were also watching a women's softball game in one of the other television sets in the place. Pam seems to think that most women softball players are homosexuals. Okay, before I get flamed, I don't make this generalization, nor do I presume that there's really any correlation strictly based on her experience. Apparently, she's had a number of women friends who are gay, who seem to be active in softball and they concur. However, I will admit to being curious as to whether or not there was any statistical significance to that.
I dropped her off shortly after that. I didn't really park the car really, I just escorted her in. I even put the blinkers on my car, so hopefully they won't tow me. Naturally, I did kiss her goodnight.
June 15, 2000