Moving to New Office

It's been a while since I have blogged and it being a Sunday night with pumpkin in bed reading with mommy, I can have a little free time. The economy of course is down the toilet and that has affected Custom Development. So much so that we are now forced to move. Yep, the landlord wants us out as in GTFO. And who can blame them? We haven't paid the rent in months. No, I take that back. We have paid the rent but only 1/2 and that has been pissing off the landlord in a big way. I guess he just snapped. The bad news is that business is so crappy we can only afford a tiny little space in the back of a light industrial park. The good news is that it is just around the corner from where I live. No more long bike commutes through the streets of Rancho Cordova.  I was riding on the bike trail but the truth is that although it has some great views of the American River, I just couldn't stand some of the asshole riders wearing their Italian bike gear who came up quickly behind me and then warned me with their condescending "On your left" notification. Sorry, I don't need that kind of unpleasantness to disturb me while I think. Yes, I like to think while I ride and by the way, I always rode on the far right. I never hogged the trail like some of the others I have seen. So the perfunctory "On your left" warnings started to irritate me very early on as I view them as totally and completely unnecessary. That unpleasantness drove me to look for a new route to follow to work. I was pleasantly surprised and delighted to discover a route with zero other bike riders and practically no cars that was actually faster than going through the bike trail. Reason why is because it was a more direct route. Much nicer, quiet and fast.

Life at the Gym

Since I am no longer riding my bike, I spend a lot of time at the gym and the closest one to home is CFF (California Family Fitness) at Sunrise/50. I either go in the afternoon around 4 before the herd of cattle come in after work or I go at night at about 8:30 - 9. Favorite activities are stairclimbing and eliptical and weightlifting. And no, I have not seen that woman with the grandma perfume. She just made a one time appearance, thank goodness! As for how I pass the time away while climbing stairs, I don't want to listen to music because the ear buds keep falling out and watching TV from three rows back is not enjoyable. That leaves people watching and believe me there is a lot to see, some pleasant and some not so pleasant. Among the interesting people are a couple I call Kitty and Beefcake. She is Kitty because of a small tattoo of a Kitty on her right ankle. I know Kitty lives in Gold River because I was standing behind her once at the Bel-Air market on Sunrise. Beefcake is her boyfriend or husband. Kitty could be Hispanic. I can't tell but she is very attractive, probably early twenties with long, dark hair and dark eyes. Beefcake is, well a beefcake. Short blond hair and just generally thick all around. The fun is when they work out together on the cardio machines. The truth of the matter is that Beefcake can't keep up with Kitty who has tremendous stamina. He can usually last around 20 minutes before he peters out while Kitty is still going strong. She sometimes teases him about it which I imagine he probably doesn't like but that's what happens when you focus too much on heaving weights up and down and don't spend enough time working up an aerobic sweat.

As for me, I usually get drenched and that is how I like it. Others don't seem too enthused when I head over to another machine dripping but I am diligent about cleaning my mess up.
Usually when I go there I really have no interest in conversation. I just do my thing, sweat, change my shirt and exit stage left. Last few weeks have had more social interaction. For example, I met Ortega Rodriguez from Durango, Mexico while playing with pumpkin in the pool. Nice guy. Likes to joke and I have someone I can talk to in Spanish. Oh yea, last night I was in the locker room, a place where I have even less interest in talking to anyone when a stocky Russian guy next to me holds up his smelly, sweaty shirt and proclaims in a thick Russian accent that his shirt is too sweaty. I look at him and then hold up my dripping shirt. I thought I had him beat but he hadn't even started working out yet. Yecch! I am out of here!

That's all for now. Tomorrow is wedding in Bay Area.