Reading: John Fowles, The French Lieutenant's Woman

Listening: KBCO

Viewing: CNN

Moving: About five minutes on the elliptical trainer

Learning: my exercise program

17 January 2000: St. Patrick's Day?

A whole bunch of people today in kelly green and plaid. It's Martin Luther King Day, not St. Patrick's Day. I mean, as far as I know.

A good day. I had two appointments: one at the Y with a fitness counselor and the other with an ophthalmologist.

Last week when I made the appointment at the Y with Greg, the attendant at the desk gestured and said, "That's Greg." Greg looked up at me and winked. I bristled, thinking he wouldn't've done that to a man, and then I reprimanded myself that well, maybe he wouldn't have, but he couldn't shake my hand either from that distance and maybe I don't have to be such a misanthrope all the time.

Today I liked him a lot. Very buff--he snowshoed 16 miles yesterday. But he didn't have the same expectations for me, and he wasn't at all judgmental, which I had feared. We talked about an exercise plan for the first six weeks and made an appointment (for 7:00 tomorrow morning!) to go over the weight machines and we measured my body fat percentage.

You hold a little instrument in both hands and it sends an electrical current through your body. The resistance the current encounters is a measure of your body fat. The first number I saw on the screen was 37. I nearly jumped out of my skin. Then I saw that that number was how many estimated pounds of fat I'm carrying, so 37 wasn't exactly pretty, but realizing that cleared my head enough that I could see the other number, 24.9%. The healthy range for women is between 18-24%, and this instrument had a range of plus or minus 3%.

So. I feel pretty good about my perseverance thus far (having joined a week ago, I'd be really pathe if I'd messed up already).

Later in the afternoon, I saw an ophthalmologist. He was old, as eye doctors should be. He reminded me therefore of my beloved optometrist that I left behind in Connecticut, whose appointments always ran over because we'd wind up talking about the theory of relativity. He introduced himself with his first and last names instead of just his title and surname, had a good handshake, listened to my history, said please and thank you, and finally gave me a diagnosis. I have mild GPC in my left eye but I could likely wear contacts for years with such an ongoing condition. I am to be scrupulous about lens care and age, which I already am, and it's a good thing I have reduced how long and how often I wear them. The bloodshot of two weeks ago was likely due not to GPC but to something acute, like the scratching my scalera that I suspected. I am to use drops and glasses for a week and next week, if my eyes feel fine, return to lenses. Good.

I left his office in a sparkly mood and treated myself to a Peaberry's Frozen Bear (like a Starbucks Frap) because, you know, having consulted with a fitness counselor burns fat like nothing.

Also during the day while at work (I did do some of that today), I proofed a staff person's annual report that she'd gotten from whoever oversees that subject. It was obvious that once-removed staff member had compiled the report automatically. Two-thirds of the states begin with consonants, so she had written a sentence "A State ya ya ya" without thinking that that would be wrong for the four As states, the four Is, the three Os, and the one U. She began sentences with numbers in digits instead of written out numbers, and it was obvious that she'd just plugged database results into sentences without considering their syntax. So I recreated the document at the last minute, which made me feel useful, and CoolBoss thanked me specifically for a couple of things (which she is so good about remembering to do, which is why she's CoolBoss). So overall, it was a good day.

Plus it had some particular perks:

Earlier this year RDC thought he might attend a conference in Long Beach, California, so I was all stoked for the possibility of meeting Shelley. That didn't happen. I met Columbine, which was interesting, but I don't think either of us felt a profound personal connection. I was disappointed not to meet Sara in December. Jenn and I will probably meet soon and I suspect we'll get along well, and today I found out Beth is coming to Colorado in May, which makes me all giggly with anticipated glee.

When I got home, RDC had just got off the Nordic Track and was all sweaty and cute. I was still slurping the last of my coffee, which had chocolate sprinkles in it. On-line, I downloaded the mail. Not only four photographs of KREL's adorable froggy kids, but also email from TJZ. About hearing from SEBB. Regarding NCS. That was a mind-trip. In Connecticut over the holidays, at a New Year's party hosted by a friend of her husband, SEBB opened the door at a knock to discover NCS on the stoop. NCS and the husband's friend work at the same company. So they're both (SEBB and NCS, not the coworker and NCS) still alive. Which is more callous than I feel but as pragmatic as I should be about my relationship with each. Or non-relationship. Besides, I've always known that SEBB still breathes; she's still a friend of friends.

I replied to TJZ, edited:

How extremely odd. It was less earth-shattering than I would have expected, though, to hear about them. Do you think you ever get totally indifferent about someone? But I'm not; if I regret spending two years with NCS I doubt I'll ever not be curious. Kind of like the rabbi in "Fiddler on the Roof" when someone asks if there's a particular blessing for the tsar: "May God bless the tsar and keep him--very far from us!" When I abuse his memory it's more my own feelings of "Why?" projected upon him so that I don't blame myself. SEBB described whom she saw thus: "the one Lisa dated lo those many years." So SEBB referred to me as "Lisa" instead of whatever much less kind epithet she was inventing for me lo those many years ago, if I may borrow a phrase. D'you think there's hope that she'd speak to me if she did come to your wedding? Speaking of which, do you have a date yet? ----I don't mean a boyfriend to bring to the wedding, as that would be in bad taste; I mean a date upon which to have the wedding.

I just read in Parenting magazine today (I'll read anything in a doctor's office) that adolescents' brains are wired differently than adults' brains. As if everyone didn't know that. I myself am reacting like a geriatric--the news barely registered a blip. Why? Am I just so calm? In such good shape that my pulse never deviates from 72 bpm (ha ha ha)? But you know what, it's having come to peace with them or about them. I love them both, though now that's based solely on nostalgia since it's the most current basis for affection. I regret no longer being friends with SEBB though I never understood how she could forgive PLT but hate me, and I regret spending two years with NCS--although he was no monster. Overall, though, I've got to the point I'm content with myself and how they feel about me doesn't matter as much to me as how I feel about them (which is the same phenomenon by which SEBB calls me simply "Lisa"). Is that self-esteem or abominable conceit?

So wot the hell. If either of you should read this, that's what I think.

(I first typed "what the hell" but "wot the hell" was a favorite of SEBB's adopted Britishisms.)

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I told RDC what TJZ said about what SEBB said about NCS (I love third-hand information). His sole comment was "Oh yeah--NCS's company is in Mansfield." He is not a gossip.

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All last week KBCO played selections from its catalog from A to Z. By yesterday, they were up to W. As we drove around looking at houses, at one simultaneous point on the radio, Peter Frampton, Heart, and Joan Jett were on our three usual radio stations. (Oh, I don't remember if it was these three; someone glammy and trashy who had a popular W song and two others.) Nearly spitting with disgust, RDC said the whole of Generation X is owed restitution for having the '80s as our formative decade. He is such a Deadhead still. I wouldn't give up Elvis Costello, the Waterboys, the Police, and Eurythmics, though, so I just stuck out my tongue at him as he started a list. "Leg-warmers. The Serious Moonlight tour. Inflation. 'Flash Dance.' New Wave. Reaganomics. Big hair." He went on and on. During this, I flipped back to KBCO, just as "Whip It" was beginning. I was hysterical in my seat--if there's any song that more perfectly illustrates why he thinks he deserves restitution, I can't think of it. He decided there should be a whole separate fund because of Devo.