I wasn't able to bike today, a Friday. For every reason known to mankind: the weather, my back, and lacking brakes on my bike (which hopefully I will get fixed this weekend). But I still feel like a lazy, good for nothing person. Can a sixty-one year old white male be angst ridden and anorexic? I'm thinking of the exercise regime I will start any day now: push-ups (unfortunately I've got the weakest arms in the history of mankind so that's out); running-on-the spot (unfortunately I can't run on the go much less run on the spot); skip rope (I can't find a single store in Toronto that stocks skipping ropes); hang myself from a rafter (it's an option); sit-ups (this is the one, they'll keep my washboard stomach from looking like a wash basin stomach).
I read an article in the New York Times on the Okanagan Valley weeks ago. As is my habit sometimes I like to praise persons for work well done, and so I looked up the Okanagan Valley Tourist Board and sent them a congratulatory e-mail on their good work. As it happened the person who responded to me was Deanna who grew up in Cranbrook. I have an open invitation to stop in anytime when I'm out there and she'll give me a guided tour of Kelowna. I just sent her another e-mail which may prompt her to adopt me....can a sixty-one year old white male be adopted?
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