Jammed Up

bastinptc a couple days ago: “As I write this, I become increasingly aware of just how out of shape I have gotten over the winter.”

DW this morning: “Are you going to write about your pain?”

It started in the lower back, and after a day or so moved into the middle of my back. Now it is creeping up to in between my shoulder blades. Spasms if I so much as shift in my seat. Heating pads, Extra Strength Tylenol and Tai Chi put a dent in it, allowing me to get a little work done, yet for the most part, I’d prefer not to move at all. A good slathering with Ben Gay is in my near future.

Consequently, I’m finding it very hard to get motivated to do much of anything physical. I’d lie down but that’s what I’ve been doing for the last ten hours. I have transplanting on my agenda today. The summer Steelhead are starting to run and I was supposed to go fishing tomorrow.

Shit.

Where’s the massage therapist’s phone number?

No condolences, please.

“We have to find a way to motivate each other to work out more.” is the gentle reprimand I just received from the DW. She is much better about it than I am, doing her yoga and getting on the elliptical with considerable more discipline than I. Quite frankly, I find workout routines to be boring as hell, and I’d much rather be outside doing regular physical, manual labor.

Or maybe that’s just a rationalization, especially given the amount of time I spend at this computer.

Ah, the Tylenol just kicked in.

DW offers, “They do yoga at Persephone every morning.” and then counters, “Not that I think we should do yoga every morning.” Persephone is an organic farm twenty miles south of us. They are friends and great people. Compared to them, we are neither farmers nor counterculture types. Nor do they complain. But they also have upwards of seven interns helping each growing season. They might have time for yoga.

Another rationalization in the making, for it is what I choose to fill my day with that makes the difference. I spend two or more hours a day just writing this blog, another four hours playing poker, a couple hours in front of the tube as we eat dinner (time spent with DW), an hour of correspondence, and another three hours reading blogs and art periodicals, and twelve hours are gone with little or no effort. That gives me four hours or so to do the stuff that actually NEEDS to get done outside. If I add an hour of exercise, something else will have to give way. And what should that be?
Poker?

Poker Academy Online #52,444,945 No Limit Texas Holdem ($0.25/$0.5 NL)
Table Demantoid
April 26, 2009 - 01:40:21 (PDT)

1} ubu roi $47.00 Qs Qh
2) RiverKillsMe $152.15 Js Ts
3) Hugo X $95.86 ?? ??
4) Zanshin * $49.00 ?? ??
6) Maxoz (sitting out)
7) Aces2 $66.55 ?? ??
8) Boomerang $50.00 ?? ??
9) sbstar $147.13 ?? ??
10) MAJOR $99.90 ?? ??

Aces2 posts small blind $0.25
Boomerang posts big blind $0.50
sbstar folds
MAJOR folds
ubu roi raises $1.25
RiverKillsMe calls $1.75
Hugo X folds
Zanshin calls $1.75
Aces2 folds
Boomerang folds

FLOP: Kc 8s Qd
ubu roi checks
RiverKillsMe checks
Zanshin bets $3.75
ubu roi raises $6.75
RiverKillsMe calls $10.50
Zanshin folds

TURN: Kc 8s Qd 6s
ubu roi bets $34.75 (all-in)
RiverKillsMe calls $34.75
ubu roi shows Qs Qh
RiverKillsMe shows Js Ts

RIVER: Kc 8s Qd 6s 7s

RiverKillsMe wins $97.25 with a Flush, Jack High
$3 raked.

Bigger raise up front? Jam on the flop? Does it matter?

Now, I am aware that a reader might find little sympathy for my plight. After all, what if I were to have a real job, and therefore less “free” time, what then? I’ve been there, and this is what I did: I woke up, went to work, came home, took a nap, worked in my studio until two or three in the morning, slept for four hours, rinse and repeat. But I was younger then. I’m older than that now.

To be continued. I have plants that need watering.