Well, we got in from bowling last night around 1:15. [Amazingly, I bowled a double--with my curve. I'm getting better with it; now I just need to be consistent.] I woke up around 3:00, and things weren’t good in behind my belly button. Ugh.

I gave up any hope of going to Columbus today around 6:30 this morning. Finally found Michael Goggans’s number to try and contact him, but he was likely already in the meeting. Dammit, dammit, dammit. If I’d known I’d be sick, I wouldn’t have gone.

I knew I wasn’t feeling too hot last night–or, actually, that I was feeling slightly feverish–but …

I guess this is God’s way of telling me to slow down…

Well, I have work documents printed out, ready to go, and I’m going to keep up with my planned Tue-Thu-Sat run at the gym. Of course, going to Mississippi on Saturday will make that a little fun, but I figure an hour meeting plus two three-hour drives means I have eight hours cut out of my day, realizing that I’ll have an hour’s slop or so in there somewhere.

If the meeting’s early, I leave early and work out when I get back–which I’ll need to do after six hours in the truck in order to fight a case of the dead ass. If the meeting’s late, I’ll just work out before I go. I’d actually it rather be early than late, but I haven’t heard back yet.

Okay, well it’s fine some times, and this is one of ‘em.

The MSMS Foundation Board is meeting Saturday. Our MSMS Alumni Association Board Liaison, Josh Huwe, is AWOL for some decent reason. The Foundation Board wants input from the MSMSAA Board on what we’re doing. I opened my mouth and said, “Hey, if you want someone to show up and make a report live and in person, I’ll go.”

Thankfully, the drive from here to C-town is only three hours. I’ll really, really enjoy the drive–I haven’t been to Columbus since Mom and Dad moved to Tennessee–but Saturday will get much busier. Drive there, report, drive back, go to Blake’s hockey game.

Not that I like the weekend, anyway.

Hutch came into my office this morning. “Geof, can you look up what these parts actually are?” I could: they were parts for Guigné, our Canadian customer.

I’m in shock: Space-DRUMS� appears to be back online. I … don’t quite know what to say. Space-DRUMS� soaked up my first year at work at TBE; in fact, the first file I created on a computer of my very own–which I got two years ago Monday, as well as a quarter of an office with my buddy Steve Greenleaf–was a file for the Canadians.

It’s just … ethereal. As Hutch said, “I feel a bit like Rip Van Winkle.”

Yay! I have good work to do again!

You know, I’ve always tried to liken the next-morning aches that follow a workout to a hangover. The analogy works for a while–both causalities are enjoyable while you’re doing them, and they both make you feel good afterwards. However, the next morning, you’re usually in some pain.

I recognize this morning just how weak my triceps have gotten. My biceps are okay; in fact, everything else is just a little sore. But man, the triceps want that Advil to kick in any time now. =)

That said, I can’t wait for a little more punishment tomorrow. I’m not going to be stupid and fly into this, only to fall off the wagon after two weeks. [Besides, Todd will bitch at me incessantly if I do so, and rightly so.] A nice Tuesday-Thursday-Saturday routine will work pretty well for a start, and as I get into better shape, I can mix things up and add some new things in to the routine.

I look forward to it.

Just went to the gym with Todd. I’m pissed that my right leg cramped up on me, but I was walking a track in hiking boots. [Idiot, next time you grab workout clothes, grab appropriate footwear.] But then we lifted weights. I hadn’t touched weights in four years. I have a little natural strength because of my build and genetics, and man, it felt good to use it.

Hopefully it will feel just as good in the morning.

Well, gotta get the funk smell off of me and run back to campus to go do a Drew Carey impersonation. Todd will be there–I thinik–so you might see some un[?]biased commentary on my ability to be an unfunny bastard over on CT.c later tonight.

Scary how word gets out…the Resident Director at one of the dorms was at the gym, and he said, “So, I hear you’re going to be our emcee?” I guess bad news travels fast. heh

My cell phone rings. It’s Leonard. “Hey, what are you doing tonight?”

“Nothing. What’s up?”

“Housing wants to know if you can do a favor for them.”

“Uh-oh.”

Turns out they want me to emcee a Housing-produced spoof of Whose Line Is It Anyway?, and in discussing not having an emcee, my friend Kelli said, “Geof would make a good Drew Carey.”

“Leonard, I’m being compared to Drew Carey.”

“Well, you’re better looking than him.”

“Thanks. I mean, damn, that’s not hard to do, though. I guess I just have to show up to be better looking than Drew.”

Also included in this package is an auction. Yes, kids, I get to test my auctioneer skills. This shall be fun.

Pity I’ll miss tonight’s volleyball game…

The thought occurs: of course Amy and I are friends. We’ve each found someone that’s almost as stubborn as we are. =P

I was reading Aaron’s latest journal entry, and I felt led to respond…

I was discussing this with a friend the other day. Life and Death are always in opposition. Starting last Tuesday, Death started to be the dominant force in the world: Death reigned in NYC and DC, and the calls for more Death rang throughout the world.

I guess that it’s right in some ways that Death should be met with Death, but ultimately, Death won’t kill Death. Death kills Life. Life can conquer Death, and Life is what we should celebrate. We can celebrate Life in our churches, in our weddings, in our births, and even in our funerals. To well and truly combat Death, we must fight on the side of Life.

Go outside. Go to a mountain. Take a guitar [if you play]. Listen. Look. Play. Breathe.

Live.

Life will conquer Death. It always does–there is more Life on this planet than ever before, and unless we let Death win, Life will continue to increase.

John 4:1-26 seems appropriate.

In laying out ClubTodder.com, I’m remembering why I both love and hate Cascading Style Sheets …

…indicate that the IJSM Headmaster could indeed achieve his goal of having a 4.0 this semester.

It’s always nice to slam your first test of the semester. Of course, me making an A on a History 101 test is about as challenging as blowing my nose, but hey. It was the only A in the class; I attribute my success to my superior slacker…I mean, study skills from being a fifth-year senior. As I said to my parents last night, if I can’t make an A in a first-semester freshman history course, I need to just quit now.

But hey, you gotta have goals.

If there was any doubt who I was rooting for to win the World Series before last night, it’s been erased by the Seattle Mariners’ celebration of their AL West crown.

Class.

With the report that Osama bin Laden may have cashed in on financial instability last week in foreign markets, I really gotta think about the devastation written about by Tom Clancy in Debt of Honor and Executive Orders. What a mess … and life can imitate art.

Brit Hume spoke with Brent Scowcroft, Bush pere’s National Security Advisor. Scowcroft makes plenty of good points as to why this war will be a while–a long while.

You know, it wouldn’t be hard at all…

Amy: (1:45 PM) You realize that a good portion of the nation is super-susceptible to email virii right now. All someone has to do is package a file as something vaguely patriotic, and people would probably open it and forward it on their _own_.
Me: (1:45 PM) You got that right.
Me: (1:46 PM) If you could work up a way to infect a jpg, it’d be all over. Hell, just make it usflag.jpg.vbs, and it’s alllllll over.
Amy: (1:49 PM) *nodnod* Frightening, isn’t it?
Me: (1:50 PM) Yeah.

A note to you all: as we forward half o’ everything around, if you’re using Outlook, you want to pay attention, eh?

If I had something profound to say after reading this piece, I think I’d keep silent anyway.

…will you find an idjit running around offering squirrels for sex.

L-Fred done hit the big 2-1 today. His liver is likely recoiling at the thought…

America’s financial markets re-opened this morning. I almost wanted to shed a tear as “God Bless America” was sung at the opening of the NYSE. Air travel’s almost to normal, although flights have been cut back. [On that note, we had too many flights anyway, and this provides a convenient way for the airline industry to go back to some sense of sanity with flight scheduling.

Our collective foot is tapping, waiting for the fury to be unleashed. We've given the Taleban 72 hours to give us the head of Osama bin Laden on a platter [well, not really], and so far they haven’t cooperated. They will, or they will be crushed.

It is their choice. America’s military might waits, coiled like a snake, ready to strike. The Taleban must ask themselves: “Is today a good day to die?”

My gut feeling that Dr. Boucher would move the exam to Monday was correct, although now I feel compelled to study for it a little more.

Why do I get the feeling that Todd and I are going to argue about this? If I go to the farm, I won’t study. I know that.

Me: “What’s goin’ on?”

Todd: “Not much. You?”

Me: “Oh, about to head to campus for a meeting and some studying got this test this weekend.”

Todd: “Hey, ya know, you’re going to the farm this weekend. I’m pointing at you as I say this.”

Me: “You’re pointing at me? Or at TBE?”

Todd: “I’m by the Engineering Building, my truck is facing the pond, and I’m pointing at your sorry building. Don’t argue with me.”

Me: “Uhhh, okay.”

Todd: “You need to get out of Huntsville, and you need to spend time with your friends.”

Me: “No argument there.”

So, I guess I’m going to the farm. Because Todd’s computer is up here in Huntsville, no communication for me today assuming I go. I say assuming, because I better not be driving. I did get a decent [five hours'] amount of sleep last night, but I have to clean when I get out of this exam, then host a dinner gathering of the St. John’s Drinking Society at the house, then go up to church and stay up all night for, uh, “Leadership Training” at church. [I can't say what that is, because one of the kids just might happen to be reading.]

So I’m going to be shot when it’s time to roll to Demopolis this weekend. But as long as I have my rifle, some ammo, and my targets, life will be good. Let’s go kill some snakes. They aren’t what I’d like to have a shot at right now, but it will feel better than just tagging paper.

I slept, for about an hour, maybe. Probably not that. No, not even that, because Todd called around 7:00, and Leonard called around 8:00. I was almost asleep when Todd called, and I was asleep when Leonard called. [That must have been a weird phone call from his end--I know I didn't make sense. I remember the last maybe ten seconds of what my cell phone said was a 1:19 phone call.]

But I’m certainly not refreshed. I don’t have the intense desire to sleep that I did at, say, 3:30 this afternoon, but then again, it’s certainly not enough. I don’t know when the sleep will come, the sleep that will refresh and renew. The only fear–the only fear–I have now is that it won’t come for a long time. I think I know why you’re never supposed to go to bed angry.

Rightly so.

IJSM isn’t a news site, but I feel compelled to link to the story on ESPN.com about the NFL Players’ Association pushing the league to postpone or cancel this weekend’s games. Yes, I want to see America go on with it’s life. However, with all the problems here–how will the teams travel? Are they mentally ready to play?–it makes good sense to wait a week.

Besides, who would watch without guilt? I wouldn’t watch at all. I can’t make a single coherent thought about sports and this tragedy past, “Dammit, they shouldn’t play.” This isn’t a time for playing. It will be soon, though, and when it is, we will play–and we will remember.

I have a few links for you to read.

Leonard Pitts, Jr.’s column from today on the inevitable bias crimes happening in this country.

Pitts’s address to the “unspeakable bastard” who did this.

Today’s commentary from Dave Barry. This hits home for me–I try to be funny a lot. My friends tell me that I succeed often. But I can’t laugh about this [or cry, or scream, or do anything but slowly, inexorably, burn.

I don’t normally do this, but I got this from one of the list services to which I subscribe, and I feel led to pass it on to you:
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