The seven deadlies
Yesterday, after three hours of writing (on a fellowship application and my dissertation, of course…because heaven knows I certainly would never “waste” the morning by working on a humorous and perhaps-slightly-embellished memoir about a woman who is, ahem, not in her “first youth” but who nonetheless decides to pack up her trusty dog in an old jalopy and go to California for graduate school where countless hilarious misadventures occur, nearly all involving some combination of organic kale, Bikram yoga, surfing lessons, VW vans converted to run on vegetable oil, Oakland-based muggers, paradoxically hostile peace activists, and relentless, soul-destroying homesickness for New York City…), and five hours at Woolcott, I really needed some physical activity.
Just maybe not quite as much physical activity as I actually got.
The heart has its reasons that reason cannot know, and once I got to the gym, my heart reasoned that I could do each and every one of my weight-lifting exercises with more weight. You know, 2. 5 pounds here and there. What could be the harm?
As I did these curls and presses and whatnot there in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirrors in that Temple of Narcissism that is the gym, I thought, “Hmm, my arms really look quite nice. Good definition there, girl!”
Pride, as you know, is one of the Seven Deadly Sins. Sometimes also known as Vanity. And pride, furthermore, goeth before a fall.
My arms, so powerful yesterday, are refusing to goeth anywhere today, including above my head. Well, okay, they will goeth, but they will not goeth gladly.
The big question is: will I go to the gym this evening and work through the pain? Or will I indulge in another of the Seven Deadlies—Sloth? Aided by Netflix and PopSecret brand microwave corn?
Or—even worse—will I decide to spend a week “working through” the Seven Deadly Sins instead of working on my dissertation (“…and tune in tomorrow when we’ll be doing…Wrath!”)?
Only time will tell. In the meantime, I am not so crippled that I can’t knit the final rows of Icarus:
She could only ignore my siren song for so long, people, before she surrendered to my seductive call.
The end is nigh, my friends. Eight rows and then, hallelujah, I shall be delivered!
I have a date with my blocking wires this weekend. Expect the full report on Monday…
November 16th, 2006 at 10:03 pm
You know, for a product that advertises itself as having some sort of mysterious secret, Pop-Secret tastes an awful lot like regular popcorn to me.
November 16th, 2006 at 10:14 pm
Good one, Alex!
And Sloth is my personal favorite of the 7deadlies.
November 16th, 2006 at 11:59 pm
No, no – go back, work through it. If you stay home you’ll stiffen into an old woman for a week. But if you go, there’ll be 15 minutes of agony and then you’ll be OK.
This is a message from my aching ass whch dodged lower body this week
November 17th, 2006 at 1:12 am
I say go for the sloth! But then I do plan on going to the gym tomorrow (or make that later today!).
November 17th, 2006 at 1:49 pm
Hey, your arms probably need a day to recover anyway. After a day of rest, or a day spent hoisting popcorn to thine lips, they’ll probably goeth with less trouble. A soak with epsom salts probably wouldn’t hurt either.
And let’s hope wrath does not come between you and Icarus!
Thanks for some of the day’s giggles. Always needed, always appreciated.
November 18th, 2006 at 8:42 am
I’m simply adoring Icarus, and thinking of proposing marriage. Which is about the only time I’d get around to, like, actually *wearing* a gorgeous shawl. Otherwise he’d hang around elegantly while I admired him, like art. Well, he is art.
I’m big on Sloth myself. Even the word is neat. Say it out loud a few times. Sloth. Sloth. See? It’s neat.
Only problem here is I’m gettin’ totally distracted by mental visions of organic yoga surfing fun ‘n games inside a Volkswagen van while slicked up with vegetable oil. Is it just me?
November 19th, 2006 at 11:25 am
A few responses: I think the “secret” of Pop Secret is how they get you to spend $6.95 on an amount of popcorn that would have cost you $.67 if you had bought it in the classic, non-microwave form that comes in a plastic bag.
You will also all be pleased to know that I did go back to the gym and I have not stiffened into a board. Yet.
And finally, I love Monica’s vision of the combo of CA stuff. I figured someone was going to head down that path…and Monica came through for me!
November 19th, 2006 at 6:27 pm
::snerking:: Thanks, Ellen; you can *always* depend on me. [eg] I have people who can vouch for that. Although I can’t imagine why I have that reputation. ::tries innocent look – drat, I knew it wouldn’t work. it never does.::
PS – Got your comment, for which thanks, and email bounced? Weird. Will email reply. Drat, if LJ weren’t the eminently reasonable $20/year…but there’s that budget thang. This dithering of how to reply to non-LJ members’ comments on my blog is getting annoying. Not that I get that many yet. 😉