Every year around this time, the Christmas cards come in. Even though the cards bring a tinge of guilt for me, as I rarely send any cards out any more, but feel, as a Responsible Adult™ I should be, I enjoy the cards I receive. They range from the hey-haven't-talked-to-you-in-years cards, to the thanks-for-being-my-friend cards, to the family cards, and everything in between. I receive a couple newsletters in these cards, too. Kris and I sent out a newsletter four Christmases ago, when all sorts of major changes in our lives happened (engagement, dogs, etc.), but haven't actually sent out cards since.

Maybe we shot our wad with that one....

[Side note: I actually looked up the origins and current cultural definitions of that phrase to make sure I didn't just write something offensive. I was pretty sure I hadn't, but, just in case. Turns out that, even though "shooting one's wad" can have a sexual reference, it actually means to spend all one's money (wad). The origins come from the Civil War era guns whose bullets were actually gun powder and musket balls wrapped together into a "wad," the term for the ball, powder, paper package. "Wad" meaning money happened sometime in the 1920's. Phew!]

Each year, amongst all the cards I receive, there's one in particular I look forward to reading: Charles and Noelle Cook's.

I met Charles at Freshman Camp. Caltech takes all Freshman off-campus for three days for an introduction to each other, to school, to what they're about to experience, to what they just got themselves in for, to some upperclassmen and to some faculty. I was horrible at meeting people then, well before I could just walk up to someone, stick my hand out and say hello. I was standing with my back to the camp ground, facing a building, trying really hard to learn to juggle the three balls I had with me, when Charles walked up to me and did exactly what I couldn't do: he said hello.

Charles' and Noelle's wedding inspired our wedding: an outdoor campground with everyone they love for a few days. Whoo, were there stories with that wedding, starting with my near inability to actually get there from the airport. Hello, crazy weekend.

Their newsletter always manages a very nice balance of what's happened in their lives for the last year, without going into the uncomfortable details that spoil some newsletters. I always read the newsletter with Noelle's voice, though I'm not 100% sure it's all her writing.

I think she hates me. When they lived in the area, I went over to their house to cook dinner for the group of us. When she asked if she could help, my answer was something to the effect of you can help me by leaving the kitchen. I didn't really say that, and I certainly didn't mean that, but it was a few years later before I realized what I had done. I had kicked a woman out of her own kitchen by my lack of tact. Yay me. Not.

But, I receive a card each year. This year, they moved to Europe. I'm both surprised ("OMG, they moved to EUROPE?"), as well as, well, a bit envious ("OMG, they moved to EUROPE!"), but they do these kinds of adventures. Kris mentioned they're the perfect family (husband, wife, two kids, dog, cat), mostly joking, though he's quite right. They're a family with parents who have their heads screwed on straight, life going in the right direction.

Of course, I'm projecting. I know it. Must be the newsletter's influence. It's that good.

Okay, I've done it.

I've finally done it.

Though, I am, admittedly, still quite nervous about it.

Here's what I did:

1. Upgraded my old site from Drupal 4.7 to Drupal 5.5 (no big deal).
2. Enabled anonymous users to add comments to my posts (you know, without logging in, a big deal)
3. Removed the search engine don-t-search-my-website directive (really, really big deal - once you're in the search engines, you can't get out, even after you die).

Most people won't notice. Actually, 99.9999999841% won't care either. I do. I care. It terrifies me, like you wouldn't believe.

But, I've been wanting to do this for a long, long time now, and this is the way to do it.

I'm still unsure if I want to use kitthodsden.org or hodsden.org, so they both point to the same place. Hey, maybe you can help me. What's your opinion? You can actually post a comment now. Without logging in even! What a deal!

I managed to finish today's Velocity workout, even after Kris expressed hesitation and being able to complete the workout on time, before we started.

The workout was four sets of decreasing reps of:

Waiter walks 4 lengths
Ball slams
GHG situps
Ball up throws
Run 8 lengths

The middle three exercises had the decreasing reps, not the first or last. The reps were 21-18-15-12.

The waiter walks started with a weighted barbell push press to lift the bar overhead. With arms wide and elbows locked, we walked with the barbell overhead down the length of the turf and back twice, for four lengths. The walking length was 20 yards.

The only hard part of the waiter walks is the turning part. Well, no, not the turning part, per se, more like the stop turning part. Once the bar starts turning, the momentum carries it, making stopping the turn to start walking difficult.

Ball slams are done with a weighted, non-bouncing medicine ball. Breanne calls them D Balls, most likely from the D-Ball brand name. Start with the ball overhead and pull down on the ball as hard as possible. Continue the downward motion of the ball, while pulling then pushing down, into a squat. When the ball hits the ground, it'll bounce less than 6". When it does bounce, catch it (you'll be in a deep squat position, still), and stand up. Press the ball overhead and repeat.

GHG situps were done on a back extension machine. I have no idea what the second G stands for. The first one is Glutes. The H is hamstring. You anchor your feet pointing up, bar along the top of the feet, another (padded) bar under your butt. Lean back. Farther. Farther. Faaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrther. Great! Now sit up.

I did my first three sets on the machine to the right. Kris told me I should try the one on the left, it's harder. So, like a fool, I did so on the last set. The padded butt bar was about 2/3 of the way down my leg, on my hamstring, and, daaaaang, those situps were HARDER.

Ball up throws (or throw ups, as we called them) were done with a weighted ball, using only the arms. We stood straight up and threw them up into the air. The most simple of exercises.

Running 8 lengths was as normal. Not sprinting, thank goodness. I ran most of them with good form, but not all of them at top speed. I had a couple lengths that were just so hard.

Until I saw a classmate catching up. Then good form and quicker speed caught up and I ran more quickly.

I managed to complete the workout at 8:05, and make the 8:13 train to boot. Yay!

I dropped my car off at the dealership today for a routine checkup. I have been on a roll with the cars this week, taking Kris' car in on Monday, nearly taking the S2000 in yesterday (Heather needed it an extra day, so that'll happen next week), and the new car in today.

When I arrived, a dealership employee did a visual inspection of my car, marking down on a sheet where there were scratches and dents on the car. I believe this to be a record for them, so that customers can't complain of scratches, claiming the dealership made them. I wonder how many times that happened before they started this procedure.

I also wonder how long until they start taking pictures of the incoming cars' scratches.

After my dents and scratches page was filled out, I wandered into the service area, and stepped into line behind the woman at the end of the line. As I set my bags down (gah, I'm such a bag lady), I rested my car dents and scratches page on the table next to us. The woman immediately leaned over and started reading my page.

"What the?" I thought, and flipped the page over during her mid-read. Why she thought it was okay to look at my paperwork, I'm not sure. After a moment, I looked at the page, and realized there was a big S on the front dash. "What the?" I thought (I'm full of these this morning), and wandered out to look at my car. Turns out, one of the scratches was dust, which I was able to rub off. The D dent, well, yeah, that one exists, though it's actually puncture holes in the bumper. The garage vampire bit it a year ago in Katie's garage.

When I walked back into the service waiting area, and back into line, the woman in front of me asked the service rep behind me what the dents and scratches paper was. He said it listed all the scratches on the car (like, duh, did you even read the top of the page with the legend that says, "Scratches, dents, dings?").
"Even all four tires?" she asked.

"Yes."

"All four tires?"

"Yes."

"Can you show me? I don't believe this," she continued, and stepped out of line, and out the door with the service guy.

Just after they left, the guy in front of me finished, and walked away to the shuttle waiting room. I paused before stepping up, wondering if the I-have-a-scratch-free-car would miraculously dash in with perfect timing and reclaim her spot in line.

She didn't, so I stepped up, and started the paperwork for my car (they couldn't find my appointment, couldn't find my car, was I the legal owner of the car, when was it last in, etc.).

Just as the service rep is about to hit the save button on my service order, the I-have-a-scratch-free-car woman comes bursting through the door, completely huffy.

I'm guessing she had scratches on her car.

Just as the service rep is about to hit the print button on my service order, three seconds after he hit the save button, the I-have-a-scratch-free-car woman declares quite loudly how inappropriate and unfair it is that she lost her place in line. She then starts on a rant about how she has to go to work, and she had to go discuss the non-existent scratches on her car with the other service guy, and she shouldn't be penalized for having to step away to show him how she doesn't' have scratches on her car.

When she started her rant, the service guy helping me, and the other one paused in what they were doing to listen. After about thirty seconds, my service guy reached over to the printer and grabbed my paperwork. I signed the paperwork during the woman's rant sometime.

If she had just shut up, and stood there in line behind me, she would have been helped within 15 seconds of entering the service area. Instead, she wasted my time, the two service guys' time, the other customer's time and her own time.

As I sat in the shuttle waiting room, waiting for the shuttle to take me to the train station so that I wouldn't have to walk home or to the nearest Starbucks for wi-fi, I couldn't help but think, "Good lord, woman, look! We're all here waiting for the shuttle bus. Even you! If you had been in front of me, you would have sat her an extra 5 minutes. Joy! See how much time you saved?"

The shuttle took about 15 minutes to show up, at which point there were six people waiting for it. The shuttle was an Audi SUV, which held five people, including the driver.

As I was busy putting my computer back in its bag (the bag lady, remember?), I was the last one outside. Therefore, I was the least likely to manage a ride at this moment. Several of us were wondering what do to with this scenario (though, two people were not - they jumped into the vehicle, ready to go, even though one was the last one into the shuttle waiting area). One guy told me I was in the shuttle waiting area before he was, so I should go, but the shuttle driver found another car to drive me (and only me!) to the train station. Custom service.

Now, and astute reader (or a non-dementia Kitt, depending on when I read this next) would notice that I mentioned six of us were waiting for the shuttle, but,

4 in the car + 1 riding solo = 5 patrons

Interesting number there.

As I was waiting for the car to drive around to take me to the train station, the I-have-a-scratch-free-car was talking the ear off a guy that looked like the head of the service department. I heard snippets of, "... I shouldn't have to wait..." and "... car falling apart after five years..." and "... takes too long to drop off car..." and many, many Is.

Many, many of them. Did I mention the number? Lots.

As I stood there for the five more minutes for my solo-shuttle car to arrive, she kept talking this guy's ear off. Talking? I meant complaining. Oh, lord, was she complaining. I couldn't help but think, aw, crap, am I this bad in my negativity? I don't think so. Maybe I am. I'll ask Kris and Megan. They'll let me know.

She stopped complaining when her car was pulled around. I looked at the license plate, a 4W something plate, so the car was originally purchased early 2001. Note to self: the I-have-a-scratch-free-car woman can't do math. She drove off just behind my shuttle car as it left the dealer's lot.

My driver was initially a bit quiet, but loosened up when I mentioned I needed to go to Starbucks (for the wi-fi). He needed to go to Starbucks, too, but for the coffee. What a morning! We had the hardest customer this morning!

"Oh!" I exclaimed. "The woman complaining about the scratches on her car?"

"Yes."

"Why was her car done so quickly? Did she need a part you didn't have?"

"No, her headlight went out. We just replaced the bulb."

*blink*

*blink* *blink*

"The bulb?"

"Yeah, the bulb."

"All that complaining. For a light bulb."

"Yeah."

"You need a Starbucks."

"I do."