Dealing With Atrophy

So today, after months of the relative inactivity of retirement, I decided to deal with muscle atrophy. I signed up for an intensive exercise program down the street. It is my goal to tone everything. For those of you who know me personally: yes, I know, that is a helluva lot of toning. But hey! truth is what you perceive it to be. (George and Dick certainly knew that to be a fact.)

To make all this venture seem to be even more "purpose driven," you know, like those people who jog along the lake in 20-below Chicago weather, I have opted for the 7 a.m. class. Facing the day bright-eyed and bushy-tailed! (I will let you know when I switch to the afternoon.)

I do not mean to imply that I am totally inactive.

I keep my mind exercised by driving daily in Chicago. It is no surprise that the Windy City was just acclaimed as the most frustrating city for automobile operators. Chicago drivers are the worst!!!! In our wonderful assimilation of cultures, we have also assimilated the worst drivers in the world. When the light changes red, four additional vehicles are likely to continue through the intersection. Even if you are 30 feet behind the line when the light changes red, if your blinker is on, you turn!!!! This is also good for the eye muscles, as you can surmise.

There is some degree of benefit for the “slamming on the brakes to avoid death” movement of the right leg. I have noticed it is markedly stronger than the left.

My favorite frustration is tied between two: the cellphone user and that person who passes on the right to get one car length ahead at the intersection. Sometimes events become a combination of many.

One morning, on my way to work when I did that sort of thing, there was a slight drizzle. The streets were wet and so when the light on McCormick Avenue began to change to red, I slowed and stopped. The car behind erupted with a series of horn blasts. When the light changed, the vehicle pulled around on the right and the driver, on a cellphone, shot me an offensive gesture with a middle finger.

Well! That was just too much. I followed the car for many blocks until the owner parked and headed into work.

I lowered the window and spoke calmly to the lady who had so rudely gestured to me. “You know, you may have a nice dress, a decent pair of shoes, and a so-so hairdo. But you and I both know, that each time you glance into the mirror you will know you are just a candidate for the Jerry Springer Show.” (Well, that is not exactly what I said, but that is the blog version. The actual aspersion had to do with rubbish from an assemblage of modular dwellings.)

Then I used my strong right leg to exit the situation.

I am living the “purpose driven life!”