Quaternions! Quaternions!

Morning weigh-in: 185#, 15% BF (still carrying some o' that weekend chili)

...say it like "Absolom! Absolom!"

Trapped, vol 1: Someone I know -- acquaintance, definitely not a friend -- went on an extended vacation through Eurasia, essentially for the whole month of January. No itinerary, just a flight into St Petersburg and flight out of Beijing, with the intention of get to Moscow and taking the Trans-Mongolian Express across Siberia to Ulan Bator, then on into China. Interesting, no? Well, I ran into him at the coffee shop on Saturday, and he told me a lot about his trip, and it was in fact interesting but he started to dwell, loudly and at length, on his sexual experiences (or what he thought might have been sexual experiences, the guy is as weird as his reputation) along the way. This is in a place run by two high school girls, with a fairly respectable clientele -- no one who really needed to hear any of that -- and I couldn't shut him up, or even escape. Someone else actually said something to him -- to us -- about his conversation. I was so mortified...

Chilibowl Sunday: The Superbowl of Chili was a bit of a disappointment. The chili event itself was great, but before and after didn't quite work out the way I wanted: no one wanted to do the pre-ride (granted it was cold, but that's not why), then things seemed to end a little early. That's what happens when you try to institutionalize a one-shot funtime I guess. Next year I'm just going to go with the flow. On the bright side, I was way more lucid by the end of the day.

Trapped, vol 2: My plan has been to buckle down after last weekend, diet- and alcohol-wise, so I've been treating the past few as "last hurrah" weekends: out a little later than usual, getting involved in the everybody-buying-each-other-drinks scene, etc. Well Imbolc Weekend is now behind us and it's time to prepare for Spring, but last night was the Mug Club dinner, and I'm eating & minding my own business when the bartender puts a shot in front of me, "here, from Scott." Well, Tullamore Dew and it's the Code of the West (not to mention conspicuous consumption/leisure) in there, so I had to do it, but gave bartender Tara the "ixnay on the ots-shay" high sign, scrammed outta there a little early...

Before dinner last night I went to yoga; tonight I'm skipping yoga, going to the wake for Art & Andrew's dad. Curran-Finnegan Funeral Home, right around the block from me.

Reading: Still deep into Against the Day, which is getting more interesting again. We're now hanging in Belgium, a few years before WWI, with a bunch of refugees from "the Quaternion Wars" and ghosts from the real war just ahead.