Current temperature: 88 degrees. Tomorrow’s high: 81. Thursday will be 64, and on Friday? A high temperature of 54. Maybe some storms along the way, maybe not – the all-purpose forecast of widely scattered showers seems to be the go-to. Well, it’s May. No guarantees. And it’ll be nice to take a bike ride in the cool, as opposed to the heat.
Having fulfilled my Midwestern Oath to Open Every Conversation With a Note About the Weather, how’re things?
I headed back to the gym this week. It’s masks-optional for vaccinated patrons, but there’s no verification. I decided to let go, let god, and go when very few others are there. Also, I opened the back door for a breeze whenever possible. And turned on the fan. And got in and out in 40 minutes. And I crossed my fingers and spit.
I thought I’d been keeping up with my basement workouts, but I am good and sore, although not cripplingly so.
It so happens the owner of my gym had a heart attack during the pandemic. Not a serious one, but he’s been taken by the spirit, and has become a prophet of Vegan. He says it’s making a difference, and I’m sure it is, but honestly, every time I even consider it, my head starts to hurt. I’ve probably said it before, but it strikes me as similar to staying kosher; you always have to be thinking, where is my next meal coming from, who will prepare it, and how can I be sure it’s up to my standards? You have to familiarize yourself with fake meat, tofu and other unfamiliar offerings. We’ve been experimenting with Beyond and Impossible meats, and found they work best in stuff like chili or tacos, because a burger is a burger is a burger. But you look at the nutritional information on the package and think, this is healthy? Who knows what’s in that stuff?
Ever since the Great Fat-Free Panic of the ’80s/’90s, I’ve been suspicious of any food masquerading as another food. Artificial sweeteners, Olean fake fat and now, faux-meat. Grinding nuts and loading them with spices to make…something. Vegetarian I can handle, but take away my eggs and cheese and you’ve got a fight on your hands. So while I don’t judge if this is your thing, it ain’t my thing.
Jeff, you just discovered Lord Huron? I too am a fairly recent fan. And what’s more, I learned that for a couple of years, I edited the front man’s father, who contributed to Bridge. And yes, they’re named for the lake the family has a cottage on.
OK, I’m about out of anything to say, and Wednesday work awaits.